Dropbox says it’s almost full and I was just looking through it seeing what I could delete. There’s a folder I have called SCRAPS. In it is Poetry Scraps and Short Story Scraps.
Just wanted to give a shout to all the people making stuff.
The stuff you make doesn’t make itself.
And you don’t have to like what you make. You don’t have to let it be seen by anybody. It’s for you.
It’s for you until you get it published, or you publish it like a DIY punk touring weird America in a smelly white white van covered in beautiful graffiti.
Maybe then it’s no longer for you.
I’ll take it.
The Short Story Scraps folder has a file in it with 78,000 words worth of short stories that I don’t like.
I’m not gonna delete them. They’ll just sit in dropbox.
I’ll delete pictures of a cat sitting on the fire escape across the street. I’ll delete a jpg I made to send to somebody on their birthday. I’ll delete the video in here of somebody talking in their sleep while passed out on a couch at a party.
But the SCRAPS folders can stay.
The Poetry Scraps folder has poems that didn’t make it into the working draft of Everything Neon that I sent out to initial people who looked it over. That same folder has poems that were cut after I sent it to readers. Even more that got cut by the editor. Some of those scrap poems I tried to put in a different manuscript I’m sending around, called High July, but … there they are back in the folder.
I WANT TO SEE IT.
But also, keep fucking with the things you make. And don’t let it bother you that only 10% of what you make are things you like and want to share.
Had to write four novels before I liked one.
Writing or painting or singing or dancing or running from the cops takes practice.
I’m happy I have a folder with stuff that didn’t make it into the projects.
I want more and more folders like that.
I want you to have them too.
Dropbox: I just deleted ten photos of a glass of water that is half empty.
I hope you’re happy.