Monday, August 27, 2007

Jigsaws with missing pieces

Sometimes when I try to do some 'filing' and topple the rickety piles of crap that accumulate round my office, aka the sitting room, I uncover old long forgotten stories. Half-stories, to be exact. They sit in strata, from the very old scraps I wrote at school to the tiny flash pieces I wrote on the back of club fliers when I was bored to the point of rigor mortis in my first job, to the very bizarre shit I wrote on the island, to more recent efforts, to three-word ideas scribbled on receipts that I spose may be future stories. There's stacks and reams of them, all those illegible words and half-thought out ideas.

If I'm in a good mood it's like archaeology, so many abandoned but possibly fertile seams to be explored.

Some days, though, I just think what an awful waste of paper.

At which point its best to do the laundry, make soup, clean the windows and start all over again.

5 comments:

Smut Girl said...

I bet if we put your pile of papers and scraps with my pile, we could reconstruct a tree. When they get out of control, I have a fail safe system. If I don't know what it means, I toss it. If I don't know what it means but like what it says, I put them all on a page of a notebook with a big "?" at the top. The ones I can decipher I transfer into a notebook. Then I start to regro my piles and scraps! Tada!

Smut Girl said...

Regrow. Re---grow. I can spell. I swear.

Nikki Magennis said...

Maybe that lost double-you is somewhere in the notebook with the ? on the cover, no?

: )

Anne Tourney said...

Oooh, I wanna read your bizarre stuff you wrote on the island . . . .

I would definitely go with the archaeological interpretation of your scrap pile. With fewer and fewer authors scribbling on actual paper, those scraps are going to turn into archaeological finds in and of themselves!

Mostly, I like to go back through my scrap piles. Half the time I don't remember writing some of that stuff down. That's what happens when you get to be my age and you've burned up too many brain cells :).

(And I'm serious -- I want to read your island stuff.)

Nikki Magennis said...

Hey Anne,

Oh, the Island stuff.... It was all people eating cats and getting lost in white pages and mostly probably appalling writing.

Re: not remembering what you've written - absolutely. Sometimes there's things that I could swear I never came up with. It does something a bit weird to the brain, reading something that seems so foreign but that must, by all the evidence, be your actual words. Almost like time travel, meeting yourself in a different ... no, see, I'm about to go off on an island-style tangent again. That way, madness lies!