Remember The Drawer? That place to put poems and stories until they cure? Or are forgotten. But forgotten in the best sense? (And do you like all those fragments, you grammar cops?)
Well, sign me up as Pro-Drawer. I was cleaning computer-house the other day (picture me with a virtual mop if that will help), opening cyber-drawer after cyber-drawer. I'd put a bunch of poems and some Flash Fiction pieces away when I started to work on LIES, KNIVES AND GIRLS IN RED DRESSES.
And there they were. Sometimes I open a drawer and there's money in the back. Sometimes just a dead mouse. It's not hard to tell the difference, is it.
Man, there were a lot of dead mice in my cyber-drawers. (Go ahead and make the joke about the other kind of drawers. I'll wait.)
The point is I could tell the difference between a poem or story that was pretty good or might be pretty good and those that were hopeless. It was clear in a heartbeat. So I kissed those hopeless things good-bye.
Throwing moribund things away can be really liberating. And the old New Age bromide might be true: Make room for the new.
See you soon.