I created a list a thousand years ago.
Or so it seems.
Can't really remember why. Something I read perhaps? A spark, an ember of an idea from some brilliant soul.
Whatever the reason, it started and grew and grew some more until the folder which it inhabits is bent and burgeoning with paper guts peaking out from all corners.
My Master List I call it. Snatches of ideas. Words. Phrases. Memories. Colors. Constellations of ideas there and waiting for my imagination to connect the dots, form the pictures.
Write every day, the experts admonish. A novel, a poem, a half remembered dream?
Matters not, they cry, so long as you write. And so I created a list, a thousand lines long.
Or so it seems.
And for a while, yes a long while, I have fodder enough.
I created a list a thousand years ago.
Or so it seems.
Can't really remember why. Something I read perhaps? A spark, an ember of an idea from some brilliant soul.
Whatever the reason, it started and grew and grew some more until the folder which it inhabits is bent and burgeoning with paper guts peaking out from all corners.
My Master List I call it. Snatches of ideas. Words. Phrases. Memories. Colors. Constellations of ideas there and waiting for my imagination to connect the dots, form the pictures.
Write every day, the experts admonish. A novel, a poem, a half remembered dream?
Matters not, they cry, so long as you write. And so I created a list, a thousand lines long.
Or so it seems.
And for a while, yes a long while, I have fodder enough. 
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