This is another one of the posts that speaks to the writer within the lawyer. If this is not you, move on. As someone old enough to have written seriously in the longhand/typewriter era I speak with authority about the differences between the old ink-and-whiteout days and the new world of cyberwriting. And what I want to talk about today is the heartbreak of losing a loved one, that is, a carefully crafted piece of writing, to the capricious computer gods. In the old days, it was of course possible to lose a freshly created piece of writing but it took really hard-core carelessness or spectacular bad luck. I'm talking (from experience), for example, about such self-inflicted losses as leaving a term paper in the mesh seatback pocket of an airplane, or, (not from experience) about flood, fire, or devastating wind. But what we modern era writers risk daily is a whole new kind of writing tragedy, the startingly sudden demise of a newborn piece of writing from some inexplicable computer malfunction. There one instant, fresh from your brain, gone the next, sucked into some cyber black hole. Shakespeare, Spenser, and Solzhenitsyn all had their share of woes, admittedly, but never this.
A few observations and a question. First, the five stages of grief are definitely in effect here.
- Denial. It's there somewhere, I just have to find it.
- Anger. Not again! Where is the %#@!!! thing!
- Bargaining. Just let me find this and I will save my text at the end of every sentence from now on. And, I will exercise, give up coffee, and floss regularly.
- Depression. This is a catastrophe. It was the finest piece of writing I have ever done. I can't go on.
- Acceptance. What was my opening sentence, again?
So here's my question. After you've reached the acceptance stage and start writing, do you try to recreate what you've already written word for word, or, do you approach the mission from scratch, as a fresh writing project? And, when you're done, how does the new piece of writing compare to your lost love?
