Write.
Markdown, invisible. Syntax shows only near your cursor; everywhere else, it's typeset prose.
Plain text, wiki-links, and tags that build themselves as you write. Come back in six months and find a map.
A tree that grows from #your writing, a list of everything you half-finished, and a page that stays out of the way until you need it.
Polishing too early is an avoidance strategy. It lets you feel like you're working without asking the dangerous question underneath: [[what am I actually saying]]?
I used to keep these scraps in a notes app that asked me to name a folder first. Now I type #drafts/nonfiction into the middle of a sentence, and the tree builds itself. When I come back later, the thinking has already found its neighbours.
Related to [[thinking out loud]] and, earlier, [[on honesty in prose]].
Markdown, invisible. Syntax shows only near your cursor; everywhere else, it's typeset prose.
Type # in a sentence. Slashes make trees — #reading/philosophy nests itself in the sidebar.
Wrap a phrase in [[double brackets]]. The other note exists now; the backlink writes itself.
Full-text, stemmed. Type the phrase you almost remember; Neuk returns the paragraph from March.
One blank page. Then another. No schema to commit to, no preview pane to arrange. Come back in six months and find a map.