At the gym today, I found a flash drive in the parking lot, next to the door of my car. I picked it up, and turned it in, but on the way home, my writer brain wouldn’t shut up with all of the possibilities of what could be on it. Most of them were conspiracy theories that had to deal with death and mayhem. I even came up with the bare bones of a plot, which I might use down the road for a short story. It was a lot of fun, and a good reminder of why I love to write.
Lately, it hasn’t been so fun. Two weeks ago, due to a glitch I lost a hundred pages of edits, and then the next day, lost the whole darn manuscript. Needless, to say I was tad upset and depressed. It took several days of reconstructing it with old drafts, and in one case, a partial found on the C: drive. To stop this from happening again, I’ve taken precautions, and am looking at writing on Google Docs. But the whole situation zapped the joy out of it, but thanks to that flash drive, I’m back to loving it.