Today it's been a whole month since we lost Cookie.

Yesterday, I found the diskette with most of the 2nd draft of the novel I was writing back in the 80's. When I got my first computer, the 25 MHz 386, I mostly wanted to put the novel on it. I'm not sure what happened, why I stopped. It may have been the obsession I developed with starting a career in the computer field. I remembered that 2nd draft as being incomplete, but yesterday I discovered it does have a conclusion, on typescript. So, all I have to do is finish typing it up on the computer, and I'll have a real live novel ms. The part that's already on disk is 42,000 words.

And I like it.

It's full of details I wouild never be able to remember if I tried to write it now. I had forgotten about that cord you used to pull to tell the bus driver to stop, and I didn't remember that LA RTD bus windows had a greenish tint. It's probably a general rule that you shouldn't wait to write about your experiences, that you should hone your perceptions and your ability to describe them by writing about your experience all the time.

I used to do that. When did I stop, and why?

I'm pleased with that 2nd draft. By tinkering with autobiographical material I succeeded in creating characters I like, and experiences a lot more interesting than what really happened.