I came face-to-face with my early writing, ironically at the precise moment in time when all my online work disappeared into cyberspace!
I recently sold my house in Massachusetts. Although I’d started decluttering years before, emptying out my house forced me — as my astute and dear friend Bertha reminded me — to “put your hands on everything you own.”
I’ve been writing professionally since the 1970s. In my cellar, I had file cabinets and cartons filled with reams of old articles and multiple copies of the 14 books I wrote or co-wrote. The smell of basement mildew was as overwhelming as the task of sorting through it all.
Coincidentally, as I was putting my hands on every book and print article I’d ever written on paper, my digital work vanished — literally — into thin air.
The “why” — at least in retrospect — was tragically simple: I didn’t pay the web-hosting company on time. My dog was dying, drama in my South Florida condo association further distracted me, and I was preparing for a cruise (my first) with my 13-year-old grandson. I learned too late that ignoring emails from GoDaddy is like not paying the electric company. When they don’t hear from you, the lights go out.
At first I felt relieved. For months, I’d felt guilty about neglecting the website I’d created in 2014 as a “home” for my work. For months, no for years, as I began to upload more and more of my writing, I’d been talking about hiring a teenager to copy-and-paste my online work and download it to my computer. Too late now. Cross that job off your to-do list.
But as a day or two passed, the relief faded, and the reality of losing years of writing took its place. Gone were the photos and videos, the countless blogs I’d posted on my own three websites, descriptions of all my books, lists of articles, links to my Huffington Post column and pieces I’d written for other sites.
Zelda, my centenarian friend who almost made it to 105, often reminded me to “look for the silver lining” when something bad happens. I could start over….sort of.
Thanks to the “wayback machine,” many of my posts were still floating in cyberspace. And with the help of a talented (and patient) web designer, a writer herself, this site was resurrected, including the post that launched the first melindablau.com, How to Not-Write.
Here’s to new beginnings. Now all I have to do is write…