Over the last week, I've been working on my room. Working is a polite euphemism for wading through piles of papers. One particular pile is about three inches thick and the best I can tell contains at least five different versions of the same book.And I do mean different. It would have been nice if I had numbered them or something intelligent, but no, I didn't even change the titles. Of course they were written back before the days of the BIG floppy disks. Fortunately, I printed them out--on a dot-matrix printer. And in spots the print is faded.
In a spiral notebook, I found yet another book beginning with maps, family lists, village names, and other assorted information. It was like stumbling across a treasure map. There was even a primitive outline.
So my question is...where do your old stories go to hideout? And what was your best find years later?
anny
