Random Junk

Writers, being the pack rats that we are, tend to collect a lot of things. Most of the time, these little objects have something to do with a story or novel they're working on. Or at least they did at the time they were collected. Sometimes, the reason for collecting fades with time. I found a few examples while poking through a folder in the filing cabinet.

Item No. 1: The cover I made for "Slouching Towards Bensonville"


Carefully hand-crafted, this. The background is made up of packing slips and other papers I smuggled out of Target during the nine months I worked there in 2005-06. The line drawing is an amalgam -- the person was drawn by my Dad, in a letter he sent to me while I was on my mission in France. Originally, he drew the figure pushing a lawn mower, a fate he found himself in with his two youngest sons out of the house. I changed it, rather clunkily, to a shopping cart to fit in with the novel's memes. I do plan on finishing the book one of these days.

Here's another item: A freehand drawing. Don't remember what this was supposed to mean, but, obviously, it was rather important.


Then there's this item:


Again, don't remember why I kept this.

As for the next two items, every hack writer has at least one of each, stashed somewhere, like pennies in the couch cushions. No one ever uses them in a novel unless they're writing some kind of spoofy mystery or a Pee Wee Herman movie, but they're preserved nonetheless.



Yup. A lotta junk. But in a way, it's all inspiring. Little snippets of thought, of possible inspiration. Perhaps someday . . .

Looking through this stuff, I suppose, is natural when you're considering your options. Wondering if what you're doing right now is worth the frustration. It probably is. I'm being cryptic again, purposely. I suppose things went as well as can be expected tonight. Could have gone better, but still.