However, the mere fact of writing the little notes is all I need. I hardly ever refer back to my little notes, and the story often ends up diverging wildly from anything I wrote about. Hence the fun. Tidying my desk today in advance preparation for a LAN party in two weeks' time, I found at least 50 sheets of little notes. The fun comes from playing "guess the story." The presence of S, T, R and M (often, confusingly, also called R, though usually with a hastily-added superscript "odney" squeezed in after it) helps me work out the fandom. Okay. Read on. "S is wounded." Okay. Narrow it down a bit more, won't you? "M panics." Nope. Doesn't help.
I read more. "Did I actually write this story?" I wonder. Have I stumbled on a great unwritten idea that I can add to my talismanic list of "stories I might write one day"? I read on. Nope. No ideas. I'll turn to the next lot of little notes to see if they help. Oh. Curses. I think this is a different story. I was a bad archaeologist, and I disturbed the layers without recording what came from where. Oh! The next sheet is full of notes about Kingston in 1720. Something recent has sneakily crept in to the earliest layers, and messed up the fossil record! All chance of deciphering the relics has been lost.
Oh! Brainwave! I know what story it is! Wow! So it was originally going to end like that, was it? I never knew. Why didn't I tell myself more clearly?
One mystery solved. On to the next one...