On File

Last night I began searching for some essays I had written a few years ago. I have yet to find them. They are stored on a floppy, perhaps, or in one of my voluminous "folders" inside my twelve-year old computer. There's so much inside the machine now, I can scarcely locate anything I've written.

I'm still old school in many ways. For example, I keep an index card file/box for all of my submissions . . . one essay/story/proposal etc. per card. I write down where I've sent each one, alongside the date and year. This little card filer has been with me since grade school. It is rusted, completely outdated . . . but I still use it.

Flipping through my card file last night in search of the essay didn't help me either . . . but I did discover that I have stories out there that have never been returned, proposals that are (reportedly) still being considered by editors. Some have been floating out there in the ether for a year or more. I doubt I'll ever see them again . . . and I just forget about them, and also chalk up the loss of postage as one of the costs of doing business.

Should I ever croak, I've told the wife and kids to search the card file for my submissions. That will tell them what else is out there.

With my luck, I'll probably die the same day the highbrow editor calls to inform me that he is moving forward with the publication of my great American novel . . . but then, there are a great many significant works that have been published posthumously.