Ever get up at three in the morning to pee, and while on the throne, you solve one of the big problems with your WIP? You go back to bed with a smile on your face. You wake up two hours later and know you had a stroke of genius but can’t remember what the heck it was?

Been there. Done that.

Invariably, I would come up with great ideas while driving, but forget them before I could get back home.

Ever been driving down the highway and OMG -- you come up with a whole new story idea that is nothing short of genius. You get stuck behind rubber-neckers that turn out to be staring at somebody fixing a flat and turn a ten minute drive into forty. You’re sweating whether you’ll make it to the gas station –- and you don’t because some jerk cuts you off and you have to go another exit. Then, the new shoes give you blisters for walking a mile to the gas station. And back. By the time you get home you’re so rattled it’s a wonder you even remember where home is. Guess what you’re not going to remember.

Been there. Done That.

Now, picture this. It’s quiet. You’re burning up the keyboard with the new story idea. It’s flowing like the spring melt off the Rockies. Phone rings. Husband backed into a cop car. Grin. Gonna be late for supper. Good. Phone rings. Motherin- law. Surprise visit in ten minutes. Frown. Going to spend the weekend. Not good. Think that flow will still be running Sunday night when the old hag leaves?

Been there. Done that.

And then there’s the age thing. You can remember perfectly your first grade teacher’s face and voice, and sing every song you’ve heard over the last forty years, but you can’t remember what you had for lunch yesterday. Or that brilliant story idea an hour after the muse bequeaths it to you.

There now. Don’t like it.

But – I got smart. Okay, I got lucky.

Every Wednesday I drive to the other side of Houston - – a forty-five minute drive –- to have lunch with my best friend. Invariably, I would come up with great ideas while driving, but forget them before I could get back home. The solution, I decided, was one of those handheld tape recorders. You know, little tiny tape about the size of a matchbox?

I went to Best Buy and stumbled across a miracle. It’s called a digital voice recorder and these days I don’t go anywhere without it. When I go to bed, it sleeps on the bedside table. No longer do I lose those ideas I have while driving or peeing.

Best Buy has a fair selection of these little miracle boxes. Fry Electronics has an even better one and their prices are comparable. Prices can range from $29.95 if you can catch a sale, to well over a hundred dollars. The difference is not so much in quality, but in storage capability. Size ranges from one that is four inches long and barely over an inch wide, to twice that size. I have an Olympus Digital Voice Recorder I paid around forty dollars for a year ago. It is small and easy to operate with one hand. Or no hands. The thing has “voice activated” recording capability. Good in quiet settings but not in the car where there is constant noise.

Being digital, the voice recorder requires no tapes, CDs or floppies, etc. Just a couple of batteries that last forever. Mine displays time and date and beeps to indicate different actions such as beginning a recording or erasing one. There is a calendar folder and three file folders with up to ninety-nine files in each. It may sound complicated but really isn’t. When you want to record, you push the “Record” button and say how the butler killed the chauffeur from three thousand miles away. It goes into file number one, takes up about ten seconds of the two hours of allowed recording time. Listening to it is as simple as pushing the play button. Want to remind yourself the chauffeur is really the Butler’s sister in disguise? Push the Record button. Whatever you record goes into file two. And so on.

You can switch folders with the push of a button. I use Folder A to record any ideas that have to do with my WIP. Folder B holds anything business related, like what the vet told me about how to treat the cat, or the tag number of the drunk driver going down the road. Folder C I use when reading my critique partner’s work. I put it on “Voice Activation” and put it on the table beside my chair. All I have to do is speak and the thing records what I say, then shuts off until I speak again. That way I don’t have to stop reading to write comments. I can comment verbally and keep going, then write up the notes later.

Once you’ve transferred genius from the voice recorder to the computer, you can erase the individual file with the push of a couple of buttons, freeing up the recording space for other brilliant ideas.

I’m sure the muse led me to those recorders that day. I think she was beyond tired of having her genius wasted because of a shortcircuited memory. Nothing beats chocolate, but my little voice recorder runs a real close second.

Sandy Thomas is retired and lives in Dickinson, Texas with a crusty old ex-Marine and a spoiled fourteen-year-old cat. She wants to be a writer when she grows up.

Copyright © 2005 Sandy Thomas. All rights reserved. Used with permission.