Her heart raced, each beat faster than the previous one. Would she ever set eyes on that beautiful elusive creature again? She could feel her stomach clench, painfully, at the thought of never being reunited. It was too unbearable to contemplate. . .
No, this isn't when my heroine frets about whether she'll see the hero again. This is what it's like trying to find that scene I know I wrote down one day.
Unfortunately, when I say "wrote down", that can take many forms. If I'm at work, it often means a scrap of paper or a sticky note where I scribble a few words meant to jog my memory later. Only, my memory is as much of a jogger as I am (read: not at all), so sometimes those words look like a clue to a puzzle I'll never decipher. Or I'll jam the scrap into my pocket, where it resides with half a zillion other little scraps until the ink is obliterated, making it impossible to know what brilliance it once contained.
Sometimes I open up my email and type all my writerly WIP thoughts into a draft email. I used to also send it to another email account, but then I'd get confused as to which account had what. Then I discovered that saving it as a draft worked better -- all of the ideas I wanted to hang onto were there, and I could add to them as the thoughts blossomed, etc.
However, I also like to write things down in notebooks, because sometimes the muse cooperates better when I'm writing longhand rather than typing at blazing fast speeds on the laptop. I've got easily a half a zillion notebooks (since I also have an addiction to buying school supplies), so trying to find THE EXACT ONE that contains this scene I'm searching for. . .it's no surprise that "needle" and "haystack" spring to mind. Along with some naughty words that I am only going to say inside my head.
But, on the bright side, I got a blog post out of my frantic endeavors. And I'm sure I entertained the hell out of the characters waiting on the sidelines while I paced and fumed and threw my hands in the air while proclaiming, "I can't do this to myself anymore!" They know better. They understand that creativity is messy. They comprehend that calling the writing process "non-linear" is only accurate if you take out the word "linear" entirely.
To be honest, if it were any other way, I would be bored in an instant. I like when things are organized, but only toward the end, when I'm exhausted, faint with hunger, and willing to sell my soul to see these words lined up neatly and sweetly. I actually enjoy seeing how this big pile of bright ideas and half-baked thoughts transform into an actual story, all by cutting a little bit here, and adding a smidge there. It borders on the miraculous, this writing thing, and even though I'm convinced it never matches my vision, I'm still in awe of how it comes pretty dang close.
Which is why I'll continue to scribble notes to myself, and continue to wonder where I put them. It just wouldn't be as much fun otherwise.