Like pretty much every writer ever, I take a lot of notes. Ideas occur and they must be jotted down before they’re forgotten. I have proper notebooks I’m supposed to use for that sort of thing, but instead I end up writing everything down on scraps of paper. And those scraps of paper pile up.
It’s a delight for me to get rid of some of them – that delicious moment when I incorporate the last tidbit of data or a final fleeting notion into a larger story I’m working on. Then I can feed another one of those damn scraps to the paper shredder and be done with it. One more note off my desk, ten thousand more to go.
A while back, I found one from 2012 I’d like to get rid of. It’s not the sort of note I can plug into a short story or novel. This one is an unused acceptance speech. Unused because I lost.
At the time, I spoke about my latest nomination for a Writers Guild of Canada Award for my work on Kid vs. Kat. I also predicted the pending loss because I’d won the same award only a few years previously and therefore, as awards often go, it wasn’t my turn to get another one.
Nevertheless, as I stood at the ceremony, pounding pilsners before the open bar closed, I decided to cover my ass and jot down an acceptance speech, just in case. I’m not fond of public speaking, so it’s always a good idea to have something short and cute prepped.
For the record, and in the name of clearing my desk just that tiny bit more, here’s what I would have said in the face of victory.
“When it comes to my scripts for Kid vs. Kat, there’s a very select group I need to thank.
I want to thank them for being such superb examples of pure feline evil.
This makes all the claw marks worth it.
I also want to thank my dear wife for driving all the way from Montreal to be my date for tonight.
Oh, and for being such a superb example of pure feline evil. This makes all the claw marks worth it.”
I thank you for indulging me as I file that away and remove it from my to-do list once and for all. The shredder slot yawns open in anticipation.