Let the Word Out

Three short stories in and I’m closing the Nook. I enjoy reading; I am a writer. One love does not diminish the other, only informs it.

I lost an adult lifetime of writing somewhere in the ones-and-zeroes of computer files. Journal, fiction, nonfiction, poetry—all of it is gone.

Before admonishments for digital redundancy march up through the comments, my husband and I both recall three different locations to which these files were backed up at various points.

There is no act of piracy; to assume others wish to credit my writing as their own or destroy phrases strung together with punctuation would require the sort of ego I simply haven’t got.

It occurs to me a long-time friend is right. He said I really should publish this stuff. If I had, at least a few well-worded memories would be around to flip through.

Each work of others I read triggers painful nostalgia for what I hadn’t thought to publish.

©2015 Sandra R. Davidson

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One response to “Let the Word Out

  1. THAT IS AWFUL!!!! You must be absolutely desolate.

    I am sure you have thought of all these things — can you remember where those backups were? Sometimes if you take the computer to a “dealer” they can recover data. But finding somebody who knows more than your husband might be a problem.

    Makes me think of a poor guy who had his car stolen. It contained writing — his life’s work, his dead wife’s work, and her ashes. He was moving to start a new life as it was too painful to stay in the house they shared. Cops found the car and the ashes were in it — nothing else. His first reaction was gratitude.

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