Project Albatross: Lost Again

After typing up half of the long-lost post-apocalyptic climate change novel I’ve code-named Project Albatross, I moved my writing desk.

Everything piled up on the desk went into boxes. The desk was dismantled, taped together, moved to its new location, rebuilt (mantled? re-mantled?). I unpacked the boxes.

The manuscript of Project Albatross was in there somewhere, but can I find the flippin’ thing?

Not yet.

Given that I wrote it in the late 1980s I don’t suppose another few months – or even years – will cause any harm, unless the paper starts to deteriorate; but as I pointed out in Why Print Will Never Die, paper outlasts pixels.

In the meantime, working on other projects has taken over my time, mostly non-writing.

Short pieces of poetry appear in my journal alongside pencil artwork: meticulous little drawings smaller than a playing card, patterns and structure gently shaded. Ideas for non-fiction proliferate; none of them go much further than an outline, a single Post-It note headed “Idea!”, the date and a line or two of text.

Prioritisation has to be my watchword if I want any of these ideas to see the light of day.

Albatross can stay in its box for now.

Published in: on December 12, 2018 at 12:00 am  Comments (2)  


  1. I’ve a box of albatrosses (as it were) somewhere.

    And novels chiselled on stone outlast paper – look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!

    • Cuneiform on clay. Easy to edit – one swipe of a sleeve and your work is done.
      Not so easy to scrunch up in a ball and throw at the bin, however.

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