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It’s bad enough drowning in drafts of my memoir, but now I’m needing to go through 17 boxes of old papers that I stored when we moved to our condo five years ago. No wonder I’m procrastinating long enough to complain about it.

I wonder what other people do when they finish a book and before it comes out. I know I should be working on other writing projects I’ve started, but my book piles, plus the hundreds of drafts on my hard drive, keep calling me. But they are so intimidating that I do everything but get at sorting them out and pruning them down.

So these 17 boxes of memorabilia provide yet another delay. Maybe I should just have a bonfire. But, get rid of my appointment books for the last umpteen years of my career? Or my framed diplomas for my master’s and doctorate? Or wall calendars saved from the 70s with important play dates scrawled in?

It’s my history that’s at stake! But, as a friend said, if you haven’t missed them the five years you’ve lived downtown, chances are they weren’t that important. I’m not sure yet whether she has a point. I guess I’ll just wind my way through the stacks of boxes and piles of paper and go read a book.

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