Newton's First Law vs. attic mice

Sheesh. This is only the second box of papers that I've brought down from the attic. I don't know how many more are up there. Two. Or two dozen. Who keeps all this stuff? Oh. Right.

• This is the person who taught me how to write, my mother:
  
  
  
  
• Even the mice didn't want to nibble on a folder labeled Misc. Poetry 1977.
• For a time,  I wrote stories for those true confessions magazines. I didn't get published in the real True Confessions; they were the big leagues. My stories got into the knock-offs.
  A friend of a friend made a good living writing those kinds of stories; that's where I got the idea. I made a few hundred bucks. Some of the magazines are still around, but, with reality tv shows and all, who needs to read?
  I found folders with quite a few completed, but unsold stories and many more drafts.
• Those were some tough times, financially, but I had my cheerleaders:
  
  
  
  
  
• How did those mice get all that bird seed from the back yard into these boxes in the attic? That's a long way to travel with a mouthful of anything.
  
• I was a reporter for the Enterprise-Sun newspapers. The McDonald's near the office paid more, but they didn't hand out press passes such as this:
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
• As always, when you dig deeply enough in the archives, you find stories that inspire you with their great wisdom: