My Best Ideas are All Wet

By Sue Marquette Poremba

Without fail, when I am in the shower or the swimming pool, a million article or story ideas flow through my mind. Unfortunately, my notebook isn’t waterproof.

Why the water? Other people sing in the shower. I tend to sing everywhere else, so maybe it is because the shower is the one place where my mouth is shut long enough to get some quality thinking done.

However, I think the best ideas come when you are least able to write them down. When recording my ideas immediately is virtually impossible, my brain goes into overload, but I’ll be lucky if I can remember anything by the time I get to dry land.

It may help too that water is my cheap version of a full-body massage. Water relaxes me. Stress floats away when I sit on the beach, watching the waves wash up on the shore. Rain falling on the roof soothes me to sleep. When I’m in the water, I find my mind uncluttered by thoughts of housework, carpools, and in-laws, allowing my brain to wrap itself around ideas for my writing.

Not only am I completely calm in the water, I’m also completely undisturbed. No one is there to talk to me. Moments completely alone with no other distractions rarely happen outside the water.

In the shower at the gym, my memory drifted to the toddler antics of my now-teenaged daughter, which I turned into a published essay. During a lingering bubble bath, I wondered if the story of an auction would make a nice story (a regional market thought so).

Swimming, while not necessarily the source of the best ideas, gives me the best opportunity to think. There, as my mind works in tandem with my strokes, thoughts flow as complete sentences and paragraphs, with beginnings and endings, an entire article or query letter written, edited, and rewritten during a thirty-minute swim. (I’m convinced that I could complete my novel if I could swim enough laps in one session.)

The problem is keeping the article in my head until I can write it down. I do carry writing goodies with me to the gym, but someone stole my shower stall once when I tried taking a break to jot down some thoughts. At home, there is usually an entourage at the bathroom door, ready to pounce the moment I walk out the door. Swimming? I simply pray that at least a few snippets of the “perfectly written article” will stay with me until I get to my computer. Sometimes that happens—an article about marriage and exercise virtually wrote itself on paper after it was developed in the pool. More often, though, the swimming stories are like dreams—foggy at best, completely forgotten at worst, evaporated by the time I get to the hot tub.

My best ideas are all wet. All I need to do is dry them off.

Sue Marquette Poremba is a freelance writer based in central Pennsylvania. Her writing credits include The Christian Science Monitor, Road King,, and Notre Dame Magazine, among others.