Gone, But Not Forgotten
Contributor
Written by
Brook Blander
July 2012
Contributor
Written by
Brook Blander
July 2012

It was a balmy 102 degrees the day I realized I lost all the previous versions of my novel Im currently writing. Yet inside, I felt cool, calm, and a inkling of relief trickling down the side of my temples. Something deep inside me, beneath the heat and wonders, made me think that I should be mad, furious, and even a bit panicky. But I wasn't. I really wasn't. And today, the very next day, Im still not. 

So here's the skinny. I've been working on my novel, tentatively titled The Secret of Sweet Tea, off and on pretty much since 2006. Each time I've put it down and drifted away from my focus of writing, I returned to it only to begin again with a new version of the story. How many versions between '06 and now? Well, I lost count and can't tell you now, because they are all (cue suspense music) GONE. 

It wasn't until yesterday, while finishing out a chapter on version number (insert any number you want here, because it really doesn't matter) of my novel that I started, again, back in February, that I recalled a section that I'd written in a previous version that I thought would fit perfectly at this point of the story. When I went to search for it, it was gone, along with everything else that I'd saved on my online storage space I'd forgotten expired at the end of June. Many of my files I had moved, but somehow I'd managed to forget the deadline was coming for me to move the remainder. 

Still, though, a new day has started, its 8:30 in the morning and already a comfortable 75 degrees out, and I...I am still calm and cool. Why? Because I realized something about myself in that moment. I realized that I couldn't put my hands on the past...I accepted that I simply cannot put my hands on the past. That's it. I can't control what has been done. I cannot return to what was. Though, what I do have is the memory. All is not forgotten. I remember the scene. I remember exactly what happen well enough to have spilled the details to my editor/friend in a phone call last night of what I was looking for. The reality is this;  if I remember it that well, then I can write it again, more than likely, even better than I wrote it before. 

This is the story of life. It is to remember the past, but know that it is simply that, the past. There will never be another moment that's identical to the one that has gone by. But, you can remember. All does not have to be forgotten. Its the memories that serve a purpose of keeping us moving forward. Embrace them clearly as that. 

Today, in my writing session, I intend to recreate that scene, because it really would fit perfectly at this point in my story. And I'll enjoy doing, this I know. Because I am an evolving writer, growing everyday by the nurturing of the seeds planted in the past. 

Let's be friends

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