The other day my husband was trying to remember to plug in his electric car. In the morning, he asked me not to let him forget to do that later in the day. In the afternoon, he told me he had written himself a note reminding him to charge the car. In the early evening, he told me he was going to include plugging the car into the charging station in the nightly locking-up-the-house ritual. With each iteration, I smiled and nodded, and refrained from complaining that he was really talking to himself, not me.
The reason I refrained had less to do with being a kind and understanding wife (which I am, of course) and more with the realization that speaking aloud is a fabulous memory aid. Many times I have thought, “Self, you need to remember to write this wonderful story idea down as soon as you get your hands on paper and pencil.” Of course, by the time I’m anywhere near a notebook, the idea has disappeared like a butterfly in a strong wind.
I often talk to myself when I’m trying to remember items on my to-do list. Grocery shopping brings out the worst in my memory lapses. In the past, I cringed to think of what I must look like wandering down the aisle, squinting at my shopping list, and berating myself for not being more specific in my descriptions (what exactly does “salad stuff” mean today, for example).
No more. From now on, I’m going to jabber at myself, loud and proud, whenever an idea I want to remember strikes. If anyone gives me a funny look, I’ll smile and say, “Sorry, but I’m writing my novel just now.”