So you think that fantastic idea you had is forever locked in your brain, impossible to forget? Maybe you’re right. But you don’t want to be well on your way to becoming the next Rodney Dangerfield only to have your memory fail you—jokes gone forever.
I began journaling on December 24, 2015. Since then I’ve handwritten over 3,500 pages. I’d been contemplating getting my ideas on the page for a few years before that Christmas Eve. My intentions had been—and continue to be to this day—to document ideas that I may someday use in pieces of creative writing. Why did I believe I could someday be a writer? Well, I still don’t necessarily believe that—despite penning a novel (unpublished) and cranking out over 100 blog posts.
My late father, however, thought otherwise. Ever since I was young, he would often tell me I should be a writer. My brother was the artistic one, so Dad would say I should write a story and have Jim draw the pictures to accompany my prose. He reiterated that sentiment shortly before he passed. That was the ultimate inspiration for me to finally start writing. My wife and I teamed up to fashion a short story, which I turned into my novel. From there I began creating the concept for the very blog you’re suffering through presently. If you don’t like what you’re reading, don’t blame me. Blame my father.
I’d like to believe that not quite 4 years since his passing, I can still vividly remember most of his quirks and mannerisms that I came to know over 37 years. But as we all learn the hard way, memory fades and changes with time. Our memories are not like a photograph or video that replays exactly as it was recorded every time we access it. Memories are little more than a plethora of neural connections in our amazingly complex brains. Each time we access a memory it changes a little bit, re-encoded with new neural connections influenced by any number of things: our current mood, recent experiences, someone else sharing their version of the same experience, etc. Certainly some of my memories of my father already differ from what was reality.
This is why it’s important to write things down as soon as possible.
Humans are notoriously poor witnesses. Ten people can witness the same event and have 10 differing accounts as to exactly what happened. Throw in a level of trauma, terror, or anything that creates an emotion of any sort, and the encoded memories are anything but trustworthy. The recent mass shooting at the supermarket in Boulder will likely turn out to be a prime example of this. Hopefully the market’s video surveillance was adequate, because otherwise the first-hand accounts of frantic workers and shoppers will vary widely.
If you are a witness to something, the best thing you can do is to document on paper or into a voice recorder your memory of the situation as soon as it is safe for you to do so. This, by no means, guarantees your recollection of events is what truly happened. But it is the best way to assure your memories don’t change when you think back on the situation, or when you hear other’s accounts and incorporate their memories into your own.
Write it down.
This is as true for your important memories as it is for your mundane day-to-day chores. I gotta remember to cancel that HBO introductory offer today, or they’re gonna charge me for a full month. Just then, a commercial comes onto the TV reminding you that you need to stop putting off that oil change you were due for 500 miles ago. Wait. It was 500 miles ago, early last week. Which means I’m probably closer to 800 miles overdue. Okay, so I have to call the dealership and schedule an—. Ahh shit, what was the other thing I have to do? How’d I forget already?
Write it down.
Even if it’s just a single word to jog your memory, anything is better than nothing. Find the methods that work best for you and employ them diligently. The thought strikes you during a Sunday sermon about why “First come, first served” is a terrible maxim. Type a note in your phone. While you’re in the shower, the idea comes to you to get a tattoo of a seeping wound on your right palm so you never have to shake hands again. “Okay Google. Remind me to write about . . .”
Just write it down.
A decade or so ago I came up with a joke. It was completely original—short and pithy, yet loaded with subtle context. I searched Google and found nothing like it. I told it to only a couple people, never writing it down. After all, there was no need to, right? Wasn’t it locked in my brain forever? Sadly, no. It’s now lost to time. A forgotten joke is one thing. It’s quite another to lose the memory of how your father would randomly continue with a conversation from 2 weeks ago as though no time at all had passed. The rest of the family around the dinner table looking to see if anyone has the faintest idea what the hell Dad’s talking about this time. These are the memories you never want to forget.
Write it down.
So, you still think that fantastic idea you had is forever locked in your brain, impossible to forget? Let’s be honest, if it’s that good of an idea, capable of changing the world and making you rich, you’re likely already pursuing means of monetization. In that case, you’ve surely had it documented in various legal fashions. If you can’t get rich from it, it’s probably already on your social media platforms of choice, collecting Likes, Wows, and Hahas. And there’s no reason to worry that the post may be permanently deleted from the platforms. It’s the Internet. If it was ever on there, it’s there forever. So, I guess, yeah, come to think of it . . . You’re Probably Right.