Kate Flora: Whenever I clean out an old purse, empty the tote bag from a conference, or clean out the pockets of an old coat headed for Goodwill, I find little scraps of paper where I’ve written down things I want to remember. I also have a lot of random phrases in the Notes section of my phone.

If I scroll through the notes, I find things like this:

One thing I really like whimsey, like this giant red chicken

The empty channels through the salt marsh look like slick brown eels.

Or this, though I don’t know what it means:

Driving around with skunks

A person is only as strong as their enemies.

“The pain of being from away” was a comment made by a writer who had moved to Maine and felt like an outsider.

And then there are these:

Decadence can’t be rushed.

Rental caskets.

There’s always a farmhouse.

World’s largest marine taxidermist.

Not just any ooze.

Fifty shades over fifty.

Are gummy lobsters really a way to attract readers to my table?

There is the thing a friend said, quite casually, one night at dinner: “Every time I got clam poisoning . . .” And from another friend, “I’ve come terms with the pickles.”

From a talk by James W. Hall:

Hide the word that is the subject of the book in the first paragraph

The experience is both “of course” and “aha!”

I’ve noted weird word sequences like fuzzy logic, fussy logic, fluffy logic

Among my notes there is a page of tee-shirt mottos for writers, including:

I’m a mystery author. I write wrongs.

Major Heroine Dealer

Is “Publishing Business” an oxymoron? There’s a story about this one. After a few years of total nonsupport from my publisher, I put this on a tee shirt and wore it to a conference. Of course, the first person I met was my editor. Luckily, I was carrying books, so they hid the words on my shirt.

I rarely wear tee-shirts with words, but currently love: All Plants are Edible. Some only Once. And the one with a cat holding a bone that reads: I found this humerus.

And of course: Living in Sue Grafton time–where no one ever gets old.

The friend who used “supererogatory” in regular conversation.

There are some I’ll never figure out, like The Lady with the Miles. Or The Scale of Damocles. Or Is it a Storm or an Animal?

As I’ve often noted in my posts, observing the world is an important part of writing. It gives us so much to think about.

 So, dear readers: Do you have a notebook? A stack of index cards? An entire bookshelf full of notebooks? A shoebox full of those little pieces of paper you’ve scribbled on? And will you share some of your notes with us?