Barbara J. Hamby

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Buried Trash or Treasure

Yesterday I dug out of a closet a plastic tub of family letters I was sorting before I moved here a little over two years ago. When I pulled the cardboard box of letters out of the tub, I discovered about a foot high stack of writing labeled, “To be revised.”

I have mixed feelings about the discovery. Part of me wishes it had been left for my heirs to find. Another part is delighted that poems and essays that have either fallen out of computer files when changes were made, or are still handwritten and not in a computer, have come to light.

Today I worked on a few pieces that can possibly add a little sparkle to my memoir manuscript. There are others that can use some tweaking also and be added to the memoirs or just to my body of work.

Work is the operative word. I’ve become lazy in my old age. Although writing stimulates my brain and keeps me out of mischief, a lot of it is hard labor.

At my age, it’s easy for me to believe that, if fame ever knocks on my door, it will find I’ve left this earth for greener pastures. It’s fun to believe that posthumous praise may occur at some future date. I don’t think I could handle fame now, anyway. I don’t have the energy to flit around the globe promoting my creations.

I have noticed a trend toward virtual book tours, that is, online interviews of authors. That’s more my style, so if I ever do get a book together again, I’ll look into such venues.

Meanwhile, I’ll try to get a few writing contest entries submitted and maybe even offer some work to paying markets. What a concept!