The Notebook

No, this is not about the Nicholas Sparks novel or the film made from it. This is about your writing notebook.

You do have one, don't you? Do you have it with you right now?

Relax- there's no pop quiz, and you don't get brownie points for having it. But have it you should, and here's why: inspiration is around every corner. Ideas at every intersection. Stories walk the streets, bump into you accidentally, beg your pardon, and slip past at speed. You need to be able to capture those unexpected moments quickly.

I write this to remind myself. I spent the afternoon in Austin with my girl yesterday. It was my first visit, and it was magical, walking the streets near the campus. There's art everywhere you look - murals on the sides of buildings, in storefront windows, the city architecture itself. We encountered an incredible variety of people, from impeccably-dressed debutante to punkers who looked as if they'd plucked their wardrobe from a garbage dumpster. We strolled out of the parking lot and saw a street artist working with 11 x 14" cardstock and spraypaint. I bought two paintings from him. He had fascinating ideas for all kinds of different approaches to his work, incorporating a blend of visual and performance art with music. He flipped the cans like Tom Cruise's bartender in the movie Cocktail, doing little tricks and flourishes, putting shooting stars into his night skies by turning the can upside down, angling it, and tapping the release valve against the painting surface. It was marvelous to watch, and to hear his ideas for visual art that would evolve alongside improvised techno and drum n' bass music.

See, I'm writing this now because I need to. I need to catch it while it's still relatively fresh, because I forgot to take my notebook.

Stories, stories. Everywhere, stories.

About halfway down the block a guy asked for money toward a hotel room for his wife and himself. He said he was short eight bucks. We gave him the eight bucks. He did a little happy dance, shook my hand, said I was awesome, and ran down the street like a kid with a new toy. Was he telling the truth? I don't know for sure, but I think he was. Giving him the money felt good, and that seemed reason enough to give it. I believe in random acts of kindness.

Later, a guy in a wheelchair asked for some change. "I'm just trying to get a beer. I ain't gonna lie to you." We laughed. Was he telling the truth? I think he was. I didn't give him the money. It had been awhile since I'd been in the "big city," but I've seen the pattern before.

On our way back to the car, we almost hit a guy stumbling through the crosswalk ahead of us. He did a freaky little dance, then stood next to the car, motioning for me to roll down the window. He wanted beer money, too - with an added wrinkle: it was beer instead of heroin. "Serious as a heart attack, dude," he said.

I told him he was doing great if he was staying off the heroin. Then I told him I was an ex-drunk, and he had more to fear from alcohol. He mumbled something unintelligible and wandered off.

Was he telling the truth? I don't know for sure, but I don't think so. I didn't give him money.

Why did I give money to one guy and not to two others? Why did I believe two guys and not the third? I can't say for sure. I leave the value judgment to you.

But take what I did, unbiased, and give it to a character in your story. What does it say about your character? Will it say something different about your character than it does about me?

You'll never know if you don't write it down. Your notebook can save you from those empty days, when you seem to have nothing to write. It should be small enough, unassuming enough, that you can fit it in a pocket or purse or backpack and take it with you anywhere. Keep it on your nightstand in case you are shaken from sleep by a seedling, a dream doodle. Plant it and add imagination.

I used to jot handwritten notes in my PDA, but I'm back to the low-tech approach, at least as a backup. PDAs run on batteries, and batteries run out. Often at inopportune moments. As Ferris Beuller says, life happens pretty fast. If you're not careful, you might miss it.

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