Going To Disneyland
I rely on my memory for absolutely everything, and I cannot comprehend doing anything without recalling my past. How could I even write another sentence without knowing about the last one? Fortunately, even people with terrible memories actually have superb recall skills. But what happens when this foundation comes under question?
Last week, I had a boring day. I awoke, ate, completed uneventful chores, and had dinner at a local restaurant. In summary, blah… Because of this blandness, it would be challenging to remember any specific details in two days.
This all seemed normal until the next day, when I was in a store and happened to see ice cream bars shaped like Mickey Mouse. It reminded me of the trip I had taken to Disneyland the previous day. Disneyland is about a 90-minute drive, and I have been there several times, so this was not a mega-event. Still, it was not like I went to the pyramids of Giza, the Taj Mahal, or Red Square. Right?
My trip was fun, and I remembered having a fun time on the rides as I continued shopping. On the drive home, this line of thinking continued, but something was not adding up. It then occurred to me that no, I did not go to Disneyland.
In retrospect, I likely dreamed about going to Disneyland, and seeing the ice cream reminded me of the dream. I admit to having minor memory lapses in the past, but this was by far the largest. In fact, way too large.
Well, this leads to a huge problem. How can I contradict this basic statement? My only proof comes from my (now flawed) memory. An objective person would look at the physical evidence, such as credit card receipts, and talk to my family about the prior day to form a logical conclusion. Yet I certainly know my memory is not perfect, and it is possible I did take the trip.
Let’s postulate further. “Bill, you committed a crime at Disneyland.” Now, I need to prove my innocence, but my only tools are my memory. This thought experiment has become a trial. Lots of people would be involved, and my integrity is being questioned. And what is my ultimate defense? “I do not remember going to Disneyland. But I kind of do.” A weak argument.
Now, you know that I like to write about writing. So, what is the tie-in? Memory issues form great plots. “Bill, you went to Disneyland, but cannot remember.” Bam! It is easy to convince a reader that the character does not know what happened. “I believe that you did not go to Disneyland.” Bam! A huge twist. Does Bill have amnesia? Will Bill suddenly remember going to Disneyland? Was it a dream? Is Bill crazy? Is Bill lying? What do Bill’s friends and family say?
And that is the thing. We trust our memories to be 200% perfect, which makes them a foundation and a crutch. It is nearly impossible to admit our memories have failed. The writing tie-in is that memory is a fun space to work in as an author.
Readers also do not question when a character says, “I remember doing that.” Just as much as they do not ask, “I do not remember doing that.” It is as if these simple words were written in stone. Given the chaotic nature of our lives, crazy biology, and the infinite amount of information we are subjected to, one would think readers would be a little more questioning. But no.
And I have had a lot of fun as an author in this space, because I have figured this out. Readers do not question memory, and every single time, I surprise them when a character’s memory is incorrect. But this leads to a final question. Will you remember this blog?
You’re the best -Bill
July 07, 2021 Updated December 13, 2025
Last week, I had a boring day. I awoke, ate, completed uneventful chores, and had dinner at a local restaurant. In summary, blah… Because of this blandness, it would be challenging to remember any specific details in two days.
This all seemed normal until the next day, when I was in a store and happened to see ice cream bars shaped like Mickey Mouse. It reminded me of the trip I had taken to Disneyland the previous day. Disneyland is about a 90-minute drive, and I have been there several times, so this was not a mega-event. Still, it was not like I went to the pyramids of Giza, the Taj Mahal, or Red Square. Right?
My trip was fun, and I remembered having a fun time on the rides as I continued shopping. On the drive home, this line of thinking continued, but something was not adding up. It then occurred to me that no, I did not go to Disneyland.
In retrospect, I likely dreamed about going to Disneyland, and seeing the ice cream reminded me of the dream. I admit to having minor memory lapses in the past, but this was by far the largest. In fact, way too large.
Well, this leads to a huge problem. How can I contradict this basic statement? My only proof comes from my (now flawed) memory. An objective person would look at the physical evidence, such as credit card receipts, and talk to my family about the prior day to form a logical conclusion. Yet I certainly know my memory is not perfect, and it is possible I did take the trip.
Let’s postulate further. “Bill, you committed a crime at Disneyland.” Now, I need to prove my innocence, but my only tools are my memory. This thought experiment has become a trial. Lots of people would be involved, and my integrity is being questioned. And what is my ultimate defense? “I do not remember going to Disneyland. But I kind of do.” A weak argument.
Now, you know that I like to write about writing. So, what is the tie-in? Memory issues form great plots. “Bill, you went to Disneyland, but cannot remember.” Bam! It is easy to convince a reader that the character does not know what happened. “I believe that you did not go to Disneyland.” Bam! A huge twist. Does Bill have amnesia? Will Bill suddenly remember going to Disneyland? Was it a dream? Is Bill crazy? Is Bill lying? What do Bill’s friends and family say?
And that is the thing. We trust our memories to be 200% perfect, which makes them a foundation and a crutch. It is nearly impossible to admit our memories have failed. The writing tie-in is that memory is a fun space to work in as an author.
Readers also do not question when a character says, “I remember doing that.” Just as much as they do not ask, “I do not remember doing that.” It is as if these simple words were written in stone. Given the chaotic nature of our lives, crazy biology, and the infinite amount of information we are subjected to, one would think readers would be a little more questioning. But no.
And I have had a lot of fun as an author in this space, because I have figured this out. Readers do not question memory, and every single time, I surprise them when a character’s memory is incorrect. But this leads to a final question. Will you remember this blog?
You’re the best -Bill
July 07, 2021 Updated December 13, 2025
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