Years ago my father gave me a small metal cabinet with 18 one-inch-deep plastic drawers, each 2.5-by-6 inches. It was intended to hold screws, nuts and bolts, and other small items for the household repair shop – but mine wound up in my studio, where it holds small items of the writer’s trade. An artist’s pencil sharpener, push pins, souvenir fossils and flakes of mica, fountain pen cartridges, staples (for the stapler), a measuring tape, clothespins, business cards, foreign coins, colorful paperclips in both small and large sizes.
The last item – three of the drawers, in fact – recently stopped me cold.
Not so long ago, or so it seemed, I started collecting them at the office as we went through the mail. My literary work at home included a hefty dose of correspondence – not just submissions, either – and the bright-color clips seemed a much brighter option than the usual shiny steel in circulation.
As I gazed on them this time, though, I started to wonder what I’ll really be doing with them. Submissions are all done online these days, as is most correspondence, even of the personal streak. Maybe I’ll clip materials together when offering a workshop here or there, but I’ll never go through my stash.
Add to that the manila envelopes and cardboard backing, the loud bursts of colorful folders and binders, even the three bottles of typewriter correction fluid.
Not too long ago I wanted more filing cabinets, but as elder daughter informs me, folks can’t even give those away these days. Besides, I stopped printing out manuscripts long ago. Talk about downsizing?
Makes me wonder what’s next to go. Not that I’m really comfortable with any of these changes.
Jnana's Red Barn 
i have those same paper clips in a little wooden basket holder from a Mother’s Day gift long ago 🙂
Some of us still love paper …
I still have my old file cabinets which are stuffed with journal re-prints and photocopies from book chapters (books, real books printed on paper). These days I download articles and sometimes whole books, many very old and full of interesting facts written in wonderful prose. Also, I enjoy being able to find recent papers on subjects that interest me (mainly topics in botany). Not all are hidden behind a pay wall.
But I do have a complaint about all this online submission of documents simply because unless one has the latest “upgrade” it is nearly impossible to either send or receive and read the documents. There is a digital ton of unreadable documents on my hard drive now that are just gibberish to my operating system.
You touch on a nightmare regarding the future of civilization: what happens if/when the cyberworld comes crashing down?
So much stuff in the cloud and its yours if you pay rent. Even then I am sure that buried in the fine pixels are clauses that allow all our content to be used for promotional purposes.
And if/when there is some calamity then what, as you ask, happens? But calamity or not the constant “upgrading” of software and file storage types is going to make it almost impossible for many of us to archive anything anywhere. At least with the written or printed or inscribed on clay tablets word someone can read it and even translate it. Not so with invisible electrons.
I still love the ideal of the manuscript library in Richard Brautigan’s novel, The Abortion. A dusty place, yes, but full of dusty but loving pages open for discovery.
Which is why I so much enjoy used bookstores even the online versions.
Have not read Brautigan but I certainly find the image of a dusty library agreeable.