You'll see over to the right, there, next to my photo (with Pete) that I have been neglecting my writing. Apparently for more than just a few years. Because I realized the other day, as I was preparing for this big deal I'm making out of having free time every day to write starting in September, that most of my writing from when I was young and spry and creative is on floppy disks! That's right. You heard me. FLOPPY DISKS. Does your computer have a floppy drive? Because mine doesn't. Not even an imaginary one, which probably wouldn't help anyway.
Admittedly I could write without the files on these disks (diskS). My miserable little skeleton of a novel in on a flash drive, and the Frog and Fox stories are mainly in my head and the short story that I just recently realized is going to end in a particular way is in a composition book, but what if I wrote something ten years ago, fifteen years ago, that is worth exploring and editing and finishing? I have to know. Wouldn't you?
Don't worry, though (I know you were). I am not going to let this stop me from doing what I want to do. I told the Grandpa yesterday that I have to write because if I don't write then I'm going to feel like I need to find something else to do (some other job, I mean) and I don't want to do anything but write so I have to do it. Also, Poppop, who has everything computer-related that you could possibly need ever or knows where to get it cheap if he doesn't have it already, has a floppy drive and said I could bring my floppy disks next time we visit them and transfer them to CD or flash drive or something so before long I will have everything except the little book I wrote and illustrated in the OSU library when I was 8 and the poem I wrote about spring in the 4th grade.
Some of my best work, those were...