Yesterday, Annette Dashofy asked about manuscripts we have stuffed in the back of a drawer that may never see the light of day, and I started to laugh.
The happiest summer I can remember during my K-12 years was the summer between my junior and senior years, when I had access to an electric typewriter and the room to myself. (Fun fact: There were three of us girls and two bedrooms; I shared a bedroom with one of my sisters my junior year, but since it was my upcoming senior year, I got the room to myself starting that summer until I left for college the following year.) I plopped the typewriter on the desk in my room and spent the next six weeks writing. This was more than forty years ago. At that time, not even simple word processors were financially feasible for most members of the general public. For me, the electric typewriter with its ability to erase mistakes was the ultimate tech.
If I told you the novella-length work that flowed from my typewriter that summer showed early (any) proof of writing genius, I’d be lying. (I’m still hoping for proof that I possess budding writing genius, even now…) What emerged that summer was probably the weirdest, longest fractured fairy tale in the history of mankind. I won’t bore you with the details (partly because I don’t remember many), but to give you the flavor of the entire work, the heroes of the story were three bears named Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail. When I finished the story, I gave it to my mother to read. After she finished it, her only comment was that it was very unusual.
Just thinking about that summer puts a smile on my face, because I remember how happy I was pounding out that story day after day. But what made me laugh about Annette’s question is that, sadly, the fragile paper remains of that story are still stored in a box in the closet with all of my non-digital writing from my junior year forward. I haven’t read it since that summer of 1981, but I still own it. Throwing it out would make me feel like I was abandoning one of my dogs in the wild, and I really love my dogs. It will never see the light of day, but I won’t get rid of it.
So, thank you, Annette, for a wonderful trip down memory lane. Fellow writers and gentle readers, do you remember a time when you were particularly happy because you were writing?
