A Tale of Two Boxes

I have two boxes (we're talking non-virtual, plastic 8-gallon, file-totes-purchased-at-Staples boxes) in my writing "office" where paper manuscripts live.

One box is nicely organized, full of hanging folders that hold multiple manilla tab file folders, each tab labeled with the title of the manuscript within. This is the box for stories that have already seen the light of day, stories that members of Grub street classes or my writing group have seen and commented on. Manuscripts that have been seen, and rejected, by various and sundry editors live there, too.

I call this the Good box.

Stories in the Good box look like, well, stories. They have beginnings, and middles, and ends. They have flaws that need work, but those flaws have been (mostly) identified, duly noted, the spindly trees in a well-managed forest daubed with florescent paint and ready to be culled.

The other box is a chaotic slough of torn notebook pages, in-class exercises, false starts and lecture notes. You might find a few finished-looking pieces in there, but they are few and far between, or else the ones that received kind, compassionate, but resoundingly negative criticism. Pieces that aren't yet stories, or stories that are fatally flawed.

I call this file tote (I'm sure you've already guessed it), the Bad box.

The Bad box is a jungle.

Stories almost never move from the Good box to the Bad box, but there is substantial traffic the other way. Then again, there's also substantial traffic from the Bad box to the trash.

I don't organize the Bad box. I only dip into it now and then. After all, you don't live in the jungle.

I need both Boxes. In fact, I've been working out of the Good box a lot lately, trying to produce some truly finished goods.

Guess which Box I like to visit more often?

Welcome to the jungle.

Thanks for reading,

Stephen.