Where all the incomplete, unrealized, uncooperative, intangible ideas go to die. The trash file. I have one. It's a folder that contains a few pieces that went awry, that never quite blossomed, that just didn't work. Sometimes, I go dumpster diving and flip through some of those ideas, seeing if there are any organs for harvesting. (No, I'm not above literary cannibalism or zombie tendencies. The dead can definitely feed the living!)
My trash folder is appropriately named 'Scrap.' It's not crap. It's not recycling. It's not on hold. It's not actual trash. It's the scraps. It's perfect for rummaging through, picking and choosing, trimming the edges from... all those things. Many things in there have taken on a bad odour, and will likely never see the light of day. But occasionally, when I'm hitting a stumbling block, a few minutes in the Scraps can turn up just the right bit of trim to tie one thing to another.
The Scrap isn't where pieces go to die. It's not really a graveyard. Unless we make it a zombie riddled one!
