Given there is nothing in the world which means more to me than Ilimoskus, it seems odd that I do not take very good care of my notes for it.
Yesterday, I went on a train (fascinating story, I know). I thought that I would kill the time of my journey by taking some writing-related work with me. So I did. However, I also took a book to read, and it turns out I got so engrossed with reading the book that I didn’t do any writing-related work at all. What was this book, I hear you cry? Lord of the Rings, of course. What else?
Anyway, the point is: I took a VERY important piece of paper with me, of which I do not have a copy. So, what do I do with this incredibly important piece of paper to which if anything happened I would be responsible for mass homicide? Stuff it at the bottom of my bad and let it get ridiculously crumpled up to the extent where the pencil scribbles start to fade away, naturally. And yes, that’s right, my incredibly important piece of paper is written out purely in pencil. I’m just asking for trouble, I know.
Although the mutilation of this piece of paper didn’t annoy me, it made me realise that I should probably take a bit more care… When I returned home that evening, I noticed that the remaining two of my most important pieces of paper were just chucked anywhere in my room, both with a different type of mutilation:
- One has its fair share of messy scribbles, and it has been folded so many times I can’t even..
- The other… Well… Let’s just say it has been brutally defaced. It has scribbles all over it. Considering it’s supposed to be one of my most important pieces of bloody paper, I have never seen such a disgrace in all my life. Crossed out there, arrows here, more crossed out, another arrow having a funky jig on the way to its destination, so many asterisks it puts the night sky to shame, circles, numbers (one section in particular goes:
29, 39, 38,40… I don’t even know what happened there). I could go on. I cannot believe something so important is such an utter mess. How did I allow this? Not only that, but this particular piece of paper is also ripped in places.
This is what I work with. How I achieve anything is beyond me.
So, life lesson of the week: Take care of your pieces of paper.
They are very important, and treat you well. In fact, one might say they are a writer’s best friend, because what would we do without them?