Post by carlos on Jan 23, 2018 19:12:44 GMT -5
I used to keep track of my words per day, and post the results here--but in the last couple of years my production has dwindled to the point of non-existence.
Today I began the reverse process--getting rid of words written in the past and stored in a file cabinet in the basement. We are on the verge of selling the house we have lived in for almost 50 years. A good rule for moving from a house to an apartment is: "If you haven't used it in ____ years, (or months, or days, or whatever...) then send it to the bin." We have been pretty good at doing so--but the basement file cabinet contains print-outs of semi-completed manuscripts dating back to the days of the IBM Selectric typewriter, through five or six previous computers and printers--long before there were such things as jump drives or cloud storage. All of them (the good the bad and the ugly--first second and sometimes third drafts) have been patiently waiting for me to return and finish them, or in some cases for 'one more edit' to a completed or nearly completed version.
Almost any sort of closure would have served the purpose--but there was always something about them I didn't quite like, or some reason why I couldn't get around to working on them, or (having meandered my way toward a conclusion) I finally 'knew' the ending and lost interest in the process of writing it down.
Today was the day: I have thrown out at least three reams of printed manuscripts--often single spaced: a lawyer novel, a banker novel, a Vietnam novel, a family saga, a space opera, an academic rom-com, numerous sketches for larger works (or, God help me, even a series) -- all 'gone with the wind'. Many of them (I blush to assert it) better than similar indie stuff on Amazon--if only they had been begun by somebody with a larger commitment to completion.
Who knows what literary triumphs I might have enjoyed if I had been less self critical, more diligent, or more willing to let the market be my judge.
I'm humming the old MLK song, "Free at last, free at last..." but it is something like whistling past the cemetery. Free, but depleted--there was some good stuff there. If only there had been jump drives, or cloud storage when it was written it might have been imperishable prose.
Today I began the reverse process--getting rid of words written in the past and stored in a file cabinet in the basement. We are on the verge of selling the house we have lived in for almost 50 years. A good rule for moving from a house to an apartment is: "If you haven't used it in ____ years, (or months, or days, or whatever...) then send it to the bin." We have been pretty good at doing so--but the basement file cabinet contains print-outs of semi-completed manuscripts dating back to the days of the IBM Selectric typewriter, through five or six previous computers and printers--long before there were such things as jump drives or cloud storage. All of them (the good the bad and the ugly--first second and sometimes third drafts) have been patiently waiting for me to return and finish them, or in some cases for 'one more edit' to a completed or nearly completed version.
Almost any sort of closure would have served the purpose--but there was always something about them I didn't quite like, or some reason why I couldn't get around to working on them, or (having meandered my way toward a conclusion) I finally 'knew' the ending and lost interest in the process of writing it down.
Today was the day: I have thrown out at least three reams of printed manuscripts--often single spaced: a lawyer novel, a banker novel, a Vietnam novel, a family saga, a space opera, an academic rom-com, numerous sketches for larger works (or, God help me, even a series) -- all 'gone with the wind'. Many of them (I blush to assert it) better than similar indie stuff on Amazon--if only they had been begun by somebody with a larger commitment to completion.
Who knows what literary triumphs I might have enjoyed if I had been less self critical, more diligent, or more willing to let the market be my judge.
I'm humming the old MLK song, "Free at last, free at last..." but it is something like whistling past the cemetery. Free, but depleted--there was some good stuff there. If only there had been jump drives, or cloud storage when it was written it might have been imperishable prose.
