writing-404I have too many writing apps.

On an episode of Seinfeld, a comedian wakes up in the middle of the night and laughs. He’s thought of a joke. He scribbles it down on the handy notepad he happens to keep on his nightstand. The gag, of course, is that the next day, he can’t read the note and can’t remember the joke.

This is the example I’ve based my life upon.

My problem isn’t the app. Reading what I’ve written isn’t the problem. Handwriting is (usually) not a factor. Based on empirical evidence, though, I have identified the culprit. It’s my own brain.

My God, it’s full of apps!

Writing apps. So many apps. When I have a thought my brain deems memorable, I’ve learned from experience I gotta write that sucker down or it’s gone, forever gone.

So I turn to the nearest recording implement, whatever it may be, and jot.

I like to carry a pen and a notepad. Sometimes this is the way I go. I’m currently on notepad #3. The first two were completely filled with indecipherable scribbles. Then they got wet. Already you must be sensing my cleverness.

Like the Library at Alexandria, the content of those notepads has been lost to humanity forever. The cost is incalculable.

Notepad #3 is a “Rite in the Rain” all-weather notebook. (And I have three more for emergency backup.) On the back cover it says, “Defying Mother Nature.” Yep, that’s me. The protagonist hero of this story, defying this, that, and the other thing.

Let’s take a look inside, shall we?

“She was a check biter.”
“Food, food, food, full, full, full.”
“God made the rocks flawed.”
“Vermin Supreme 2016.”
“Cinco de Moroccan.”
“Rich areas.”
“Steak dinner.”

The last two are probably my favorites. At the time I wrote these things, they had great meaning to me. (I know because I was there.) They seemed painfully obvious and full of self-evidence. Each of these was meant to prompt me later to go on and write fantastic pieces that would shock and awe the whole world.

That said, I haven’t got a clue in Zeus’ butthole what any of that crap is supposed to mean.

And yet, I spend a good deal of my life engaged in this activity. Pro tip: You probably shouldn’t be reading the writings of a lunatic.

So, that just covers the physical world of notepads. Did I mention apps? My iPod has something called Notes. My iPad also has Notes. In addition to that, I’m rather partial to Werdsmith, a writing app. Sometimes I jot my thoughts into MindNode, a “delightful mind mapper.” Why? I don’t know.

Things get dicier on the computer. There are apps for notes and things to do and reminders. I have more than a few writing apps like Byword (used to write this post), Bear, OpenOffice, Pages, TextEdit, Vim, iBooks Author, and much, much more.

Where did I put my movie treatment? I have no idea. I spent an hour this week looking in all these places. Nothing! I’m starting to doubt if it ever really happened. What a twist!

Where’s the outline for my book? Same story.

I’m so worried about recording my all-important thoughts that I never give any thought to finding any of them ever again. And, if I do, my methods guarantee that none of them will make sense.

No wonder I’m writing about this instead of doing my comic-tary job. It’s almost like I’m making this up as I go along.

In closing, here are a few more examples:

“The urinal problem”
“Three tables”
“Sit middle or either end”
“We hates them”
“Lumberjack emo”
“Old lady jog turtle”

If I ever write anything coherent, be sure to let me know, won’t you?