The trunks sat in my back room for many moons until I finally had the opportunity to open them. Inside one trunk was vintage clothing from the turn of the century. Inside the other trunk beneath more cloth, were yellowed and deteriorating papers and letters.
The letters and papers captured my imagination. There are often times I can't part with 'things' and this was one such occasion. Eventually I would come to find that the material dated back to the Civil War era and ended abruptly in the early 1970's. I organized them in files and folders, attempted to categorize them, and told myself, "I will write a book one day."
But then I got caught up in life, school, and writing other books and stories, as well as amassing other boxes and collections of papers from someone else's past.
Over the past year I have been in a writer's slump. I kept going from one project to another and never completed anything. My store and desk area became a disgrace, piles of books and boxes of papers were stacked everywhere. They spilled over into the other two rooms next to me and barely allowed me enough room to pass through. Each pile and box had a purpose - their contents held material for one of my stories - some were destined for books I wanted to write.
|Clint or Frank Miller|
I was good at finding excuses why I couldn't write, which is why I started to schlog. Then the puppies came along in November, of course there was Christmas, snow filled January, Valentines Day, my birthday, and both my laptop and main computer got viruses and had to be crashed and wiped out of everything. I think they are back, though I lost a lot of material including digital pictures and videos that did not get saved.
The good news is that I am out of my writer's slump. I have story that will be published in the coming online issue at Allthings Girl, and today, a woman called after finding a blog I did last fall on, Clint Miller, Lost History and
|Ida Wharton Miller and Child|
It turns out she is a descendent of the material in the trunks. All the trunks belonged to a different branch; however, the history inside is hers. She was so excited she called her 94 years-young father. So know I no longer have an excuse for feeling slumpy about what to write about.
Which is why I am a firm believer that 'things' happen for a reason.