I have a large collection of notes from workshops and lectures. Every so often I'll go through them and see what I've heard often enough that it is now ingrained in my writing practice. Those notes get tossed. The others stay in the pile. Last year I moved some of the pile to a notebook, but wasn't sure how to organize all the notes. The notebook went into a tote bag, and I promised myself I would create my own personal, private writing manual. Well, that never happened and now I'm three chapters into my next book and there's this voice in the back of my head nagging at me to review those notes because it might help move things along with the plot. This is the joy and curse of being creative – so many projects, all of them interesting. At least looking at old notes isn't as sad as looking at old paint that has dried in the tube, or old spices that are now dust in the jar. I'm not sure there's a moral to the story, except to take some comfort in knowing I've provided employment for speakers, farmers, manufacturers, and suppliers of bits and bobs for all my creative pursuits.
Luck and wisdom!
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