What Will Happen to Your Writings After You Die?
I’m so fascinated by this story. Vladimir Nabokov's final, incomplete novel, The Original of Laura, will be published in 2009. It’s been locked away for 30 years by his son, Dmitri, who is going against his father’s wishes and publishing it.
Now, I have to wonder why Nabokov and his wife didn’t just burn anything he didn’t want released. Apparently, this book is as scintillating as his most famous work Lolita. Surely, it can’t be Nabokov’s best work because it’s unfinished. But leaves us an interesting question—would you burn such a treasure or give it to the world?
Moreover, have you expressed your wishes to family members regarding your writings? If something were to happen to you today, what would happen to your unfinished poems and stories, essays, and manuscripts? What happens to all those journals and scraps of paper that you’ve collected over the years? And all of those juicy blog posts—what if they ended up in a collection you had nothing to do with? Not much you can do after you’ve gone, but there’s plenty you can do now.
So what should happen to your great (and not-so-great) works after you die?
Now, I have to wonder why Nabokov and his wife didn’t just burn anything he didn’t want released. Apparently, this book is as scintillating as his most famous work Lolita. Surely, it can’t be Nabokov’s best work because it’s unfinished. But leaves us an interesting question—would you burn such a treasure or give it to the world?
Moreover, have you expressed your wishes to family members regarding your writings? If something were to happen to you today, what would happen to your unfinished poems and stories, essays, and manuscripts? What happens to all those journals and scraps of paper that you’ve collected over the years? And all of those juicy blog posts—what if they ended up in a collection you had nothing to do with? Not much you can do after you’ve gone, but there’s plenty you can do now.
So what should happen to your great (and not-so-great) works after you die?
Comments
But interesting question...
As for me, I don't think I've reached the point where it would matter what happened to them. And since I'd be dead, I wouldn't care. I think what would happened would be there would be one overly full day of our recycle bin...and honestly, that would a-ok with me.
Oh and my word verification was "poremes" I can clearly see "poems" in that.
What about you? Do you have plans?
As for Nabokov's case, is Dmitri really the best judge? or does he just have a cash flow problem? That's always my worry when "something is locked away" for so long then suddenly, in a cruddy economy, it "surfaces." I am always suspicious.
I also think, however, if an artist specifically said "don't" then that means no. Donate the thing to a library but don't publish it.
Phebus was 41 and single, but without a will. She was not on the best of terms with her family, so her manuscript is in limbo because no one seems to be acting on her behalf.
In my case, my husband has the OK to publish my work, but no journals. I have yet to add this to my will but I do feel the need to make it official. At some point, I'll burn most of my journals. Not sure if I want my kids to read my work, or have my words on display.
What used to be kept were vast piles of correspondence, but now that we have e-mails, the art of letter writing seems to be fading. I wish my greataunts had kept my greatgrandmother's letters from cousins around the globe, instead of throwing them out. I doubt if they had literary merit, but I'm sure they would have been fascinating.
Word verification: parying
Now as to what will be done with this work, who knows? I don't think that my children are aware that my writing extends beyond e-mail and blogging. My husband, who is not much of a reader himself, doesn't understand why anyone would want to read what I write. Therefore, I have a feeling that my notebooks will probably go into the trash unread.