Is there anything quite as awful as realizing that you’ve lost parts, or even ALL, of a story? I remember once I accidentally deleted a serious rewrite I was working on, and on the move down from Alaska I lost a notebook that had two or three story starts that I really liked. Both times the loss happened just as I was beginning stories I was really excited about, and it was absolutely devastating. I couldn’t bring myself to keep writing them. It felt as if nothing I did was as good as what I’d lost. It’s probably my worst writer’s trauma.
And now, here we go again. *sigh*
I have been working on Angel Wings in little bits and snatches since after Christmas. In the beginning of February, I sat down with my little pages of notes and typed up the first few paragraphs, just to get them out of my head. They were good, I really liked them, so I went back to the research I was working on and back to working on AW in between stuff, on paper.
Week before last I decided it was time to type up what I had, start working on the story in earnest. I opened up my file… empty. It was just a blank page.
At first I thought maybe I had been mistaken about typing it out. But I could remember bits of it, a couple of phrases and wordings that were different from the notes I had. Something happened, I still don’t know what, and all of my work had been lost. I didn’t really freak out, but I had this horrible sick, sinking feeling. My wonderful techy husband searched my computer for previous save files or something; but he couldn’t find anything either.
It wasn’t even a whole page, just a few paragraphs, but it was the beginning of the story. Beginnings are so important! I actually have tried to rewrite it, but nothing feels right. My brain is convinced that the lost draft I wrote was perfect and everything is just trash in comparison. *sigh* I know that’s just my brain being silly, but it’s so discouraging.
I really like this story, so I’m going to try really hard to pull it together and get back to writing it.