I often write in my head when I'm driving. I've written short stories, novels, non-fiction manuscripts, columns, articles and Honey do lists for my husband. But when I get home all my plans blow away in the wind from the car to the house (lucky husband).
Maybe it's the seat heat I like to have on while I'm driving. I have it on because it feels good on my back, not because I'm particularly cold. But maybe heating up the seat on my backside sets off some sort of creative trigger or loosens a strategy gene.
Just today on the way home from Weight Watchers I lost 60 pounds, wrote a non-fiction book, straightened out my checking account, and joined a marathon.
But I'm just making that up, because I forgot what it was I was thinking in the car on the way home. I'm assuming I drove because I am home, but when I walked in the door the laundry awaited and all my brilliant ideas went down the drain on the spin cycle.