The final tips article for the school year has arrived. With this final article edition, it goes over how you, as a writer, can keep track of all your unique ideas and notes for future or ongoing projects. We have times where we have an amazing idea that we’re eager to write about and think that we’ll remember it, but when the time comes for needing it, we forget! These tips will help combat the reliance of memory so you can remember all of those wonderful ideas.

Tip 1: Good Ol’ Fashion Notebook

Some of us have an easier time writing by hand in a physical notebook. Having a physical copy of your ideas can help you keep track of what you want to write about and the things you want to add to ongoing writings. If you’re out and about, you can carry a small notebook with you to be able to jot down those pressing ideas so you don’t forget them. 

Tip 2: Sticky Note Mayhem

This tip ties in with the notebook idea. Sticky notes are small pieces of paper that can grab your attention wherever you put them. If you write an idea down on one and stick it where you would see it the most, you’re sure to remember that brilliant idea of yours. With a diverse array of sticky note designs and colors, you can assign different topics to the different color or design. 

Tip 3: Digital Realm

Some of us may not like writing by hand, and that’s okay! That’s where digital notetaking comes in. With many platforms and apps to do this, digital note-takers have a wide variety to choose from. From sites like Google Docs to even Canva, these platforms can be used to personalize your notes and keep all your information right at your fingertips.

Opening up the window with a groan of the wooden frame, I let the sky consume me.

For two, maybe three years now, there’s been a pot on my floor,

a week ago I finally cleaned it up, though it’s been something I prefer to ignore.

Long since dead, it was a jade plant from your house, I forgot to water it, not even a douse.

Now, it sits on the table at my bedside, pot within cup upon saucer, no reason to grouse.

It was thanks to my girlfriend that I ever got so far,

I think you would like her, she’s a veritable main sequence star,

she’s kind and she’s bright but she burns herself out, every night.

In the air hangs a heft that whispers of summer, heavy on the horizon,

I dread its approach even as I feel it encroach, though it’s a plot point there’s little surprise in.

The heat always comes, along with the sun,

some find it fun whilst I’d far prefer to run,

it weighs down my bones, clings to my clothes,

a sticky film even a cold shower can’t wash off.

Still, there is some comfort in the unbearable heat,

a nostalgia, memories of what we can no longer repeat.

Wiffleball as the sun dips low, pine sap sticking to my hands,

uncomfortable chairs and creaking stairs, tying together old strands.

It’s been years since we drove those roads and yet,

I still remember them. I hope I never forget.

Down the hill, past the reddish building and the conifer trees.

Drop me off and stay, watch me fight and tease,

play classical music in the car that smells like fake sweetness,

laugh at my jokes, smile at me in a way without concreteness

because I can’t remember what your smile looked like.

They say to take the road less traveled by,

but I’d prefer not to. I’m a landmark kind of guy,

I need to know the path before I can give any kind of directions.

It gets easier with every time, I’ll add it to my collections,

gathering data and filing it away,

waiting for maybe a sunnier day,

but I don’t like the sun, so probably not,

I’ll try to come by on a day less hot.

We wear memories into roads, we beat paths into the ground,

erosion and water washing it away without a sound.

Still, I remember the way, as the crow flew,

even if in your home, there’s no more you.

Three objects were set out before Lux, who cocked her head to the side as she watched her papa set them in a straight line. He didn’t say anything when he was done, sitting back in his leather chair and watching her intently.

Lux turned her attention back to the items — a shiny gold coin, a sparkly diamond necklace, and a pair of red dice.

“Papa, what are these for?” She tugged at the ends of her hair, silky and blacker than the night sky past the wall of windows to her right. She looked up at him from her cushioned seat on the floor, the soft fabric of her dark purple dress brushing her knees as she sat cross legged, making them itch.

“Pick one, Lux. It doesn’t matter which one,” he finally said, eyes flicking from the row of items back to her.

She frowned, scanning the objects. The necklace glittered in the overhead lighting, the jewels enchanting her. She broke away, studying the dice. They were made of solid red plastic, the dots on all sides a striking white. The coin puzzled her the most. It was blank on the side she could see, and she didn’t want to pick it up in case it was the wrong choice. She knew papa liked having his way, even if he said it didn’t matter.

She chose the dice, remembering the sounds of them rolling on all the tables far below in the casino, the hollers of joy when they rolled in the thrower’s favor. She clicked them together, savoring the sound.

“Well.” her papa stood, looking at the two guards positioned by the front door. Lux forgot they were even there, their stances unwavering as if they were made of stone. “It looks like my daughter has chosen. Both of you, dismissed. Now.” The guards ducked their heads, leaving soundlessly out the door, no doubt taking their positions on the other side.

Papa turned back to Lux, his face conveying more emotion than she had ever seen. It startled her to see so much pride in his eyes directed at her. 

“My little raven, you’ve shown you are ready for your studying to begin.”

*

10 years later.

Lux stood at the front of the small crowd, the wave of black in the vibrant Elite Gardens spilling around the trees and colorful plants. Hushed whispers passed behind her, a discordant of voices and soft whimpers.. 

She had sealed the sadness behind the thick walls around her heart, breathing in deeply to dissipate the growing need to cry. 

Her father was dead. 

She didn’t let herself dwell on the fact, burying the anger she had towards those who caused it. She wanted the funeral to be over, for him to return to the earth and let it be.

The ceremony droned on for what felt like hours before Lux closed her eyes as they lowered her father’s body into the leafy hands of his final resting place. People left quickly after the leaves closed, as if they only needed confirmation that her father was gone once and for all.

Lux didn’t let the assumption sink in. She stayed there, staring up at the massive plant the city used as a burial site, having not enough room for graves. People brushed past her, not paying one glance in her direction as they all left the garden. The sun was almost gone, the last rays bleeding through the canopy above, her shadow rimmed in orange light as it stretched towards the base of the plant. 

She took the red dice from her dress pocket, the black material plain, simple, practical. She rubbed the worn faces with her thumb, feeling the grief clawing up her throat.

“You made me choose my life at the age of six,” Lux said aloud, speaking to the plant. It twitched, as if listening. “You made me who I am now, your successor, because I chose the dice.” She stopped, swallowing the lump in her throat and fighting the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

“I want to be my own person, not a mold of you, father. I want to choose my own path.” Lux threw the dice into the dirt in front of her. They rolled for a short distance, the dots seeming to wink up at her. She stamped them into the ground, making sure the dirt enveloped them, before turning.

She walked out of the gardens, back home, a single thought in her mind.

Life is like a roll of the dice.

And she was going to make the next roll count.

Little Red Riding Hood strayed from the path

and — well, 

I don’t need to tell you

what came of that. 

Red strayed

so I stayed

right and ready

no wolf would find me 

I walk the expected. 

It’s good and nice and 

so utterly boring

the same trawl

every moment the same as the 

one prior

there’s a certain madness in redundancy

the way my eyes bleed

from haphazardness gleams

you see there’s nothing 

to my everything

my footsteps pressing into the same prints. 

I judge Red because

how could she be so stupid 

to let a wolf bite? 

How could one

jeopardize

it all

for flowery words

and the thrill of risk? 

I judge her

because I could be her. 

Because I see how one could. 

A wolf brings in trouble

but trouble brings excitement

a sharp claw tearing away my current 

reality 

and breathing life

in its deathly growls

a wolf brings trouble

and I want trouble. 

How insane must I be

but still the words branch true

I want some insanity 

some action

some change from this 

beaten down path

I’d relish the hurt

the pain wouldn’t bother me

because then I’d have something worth 

living for. 

I want to live. 

I want to do more with my life

than wear a cloak and

hold a wicker basket

I want to hold my life in my hands and 

play with it like

a small doll 

I have dreams and ambitions

that this path doesn’t hold

and I’m tripping because 

these footprints are growing

deeper

and I can’t climb out

I can’t breathe and —

No. 

I have all these words

I’ll never say 

because Red hurt more than just her

and the wolves won’t play fair 

so I avoid their stares

and keep walking down my path

because I don’t even think I’d know what to do

if my shoe stepped too far left. 

Red strayed 

I stayed

she died

I’m unalive.