That Giant Wastebasket in the Sky

Last week I came across an intriguing piece of advice for writers: "Never throw anything out." "Uh oh," I thought, "I'm in trouble." I've been ripping, tearing, shredding, burning, crossing out, and tossing things in the trash for as long as I can remember. My first memory of getting rid of writing comes at age seventeen. I had just broken up with my boyfriend. With a hurt look on his face, he handed me back a packet of letters I had written him. I didn't bother to read them over, but headed straight out to the burning barrel in our backyard. 

Later in life, I was to toss not only love letters from unhappy relationships, but also ordinary letters, diaries, journals, first drafts of stories, second drafts, third drafts (you get the idea), etc. etc. I began to joke about "that giant wastebasket in the sky" which contained all the material I had thrown out in my life. I never saw the point of saving multiple drafts of any book. Once the final book was published, I destroyed all the earlier versions. Of course, there were things I saved, as well. I still have a few of my earliest writings, such as "The Cowboy Coloring Book" that I wrote and illustrated at age 6 for my brother. I have dream diaries, a few travel journals, my son and daughter's stories, and every single letter that kids have written me about my books. I've never thrown out any poem I've written, either.

Have I ever regretted anything I destroyed? Of course, I have. Now I wish I had those letters written by my seventeen year old self. I wish I had my early journals. It never occurred to me as I was burning, tearing, or shredding, that someday I might be curious about my younger self. However, I've never regretted getting rid of manuscript drafts or unsuccessful stories. Getting rid of old things often frees me up for what's ahead. I don't want to hang onto every little scrap of writing as if it's my most precious treasure. Even if I lose a few good ideas along the way, it's okay. What's on paper is finite, but what's inside the brain is infinite...