Or “How doing the dishes triggers the best kind of daydreaming, unless you daydream about doing the dishes.”
Tonight has turned out to be a fairly average Wednesday night, and I found myself washing the dishes I’ve ignored for far too long. This is, of course, not my favorite activity, but there are only eight bowls in the house, four of which are only large enough for a small serving of cereal, and I can only justify pretending Tupperware is a solid alternative for so long. I’m completely unashamed of the fact that I heated up soup in, and ate the aforementioned soup from, a microwave-safe container, by the way.
Veering back toward my point: I found myself listening to music on my trusty iPod, going through the robotic motions of washing the dishes, when a hint of an idea for something later in “Joshua’s Nightmares” popped up in the forefront of my thoughts. I considered the revisions, then stored them away in their usual spot in my memory (which, by the way, probably looks something like the top of my dresser: riddled with notebooks, writing utensils, and a good deal of unused origami paper).
That’s when the idea exploded, becoming so much more (at least, as of now, to me) than it had been in its initial drafting. It’s probably one of my favorite parts of the writing process, because it’s something I have no control over. The thrill of having an idea go from being a spark to an inferno is one I have yet to fully recreate elsewhere (except maybe on rollercoasters, and I think I’m mistaking the rush of creativity for the rush of blood to my brain).