Burning Shakespeare

I got to work early this morning and had oodles of time to sit and think. I did some writing and it felt good to be putting pen to paper instead of typing. However, I found I missed the speed at which I can type something up and hit the delete button if it doesn't sound right when I read it over. There is something to be said for the modern convenience of the computer. That got me to thinking of Shakespeare. I'm in no way an expert on him. I haven't yet found a single thing of his that I can read without wondering, what the hell is he saying and why doesn't he just say it already instead of beating around the bush until he's worn a moat in the ground and no one can actually get to the bush anymore? But that's an argument for another blog. Deep breath. No, what I was thinking about is all the paper he must have used writing and revising his rambling thoughts. Can you imagine the hundreds and thousands of pages of script he wrote and how little of it was actually usable? And, how did he keep it all straight? I mean, I have a computer and I'm still not the most organized writer there is. I'm pretty sure I'm in the bottom 10% when it comes to writing organization. But imagine how he must have felt sitting in his tiny little room, candles lit and trying to keep his papers out of the flames. That begs another question, how many fires did he start and how much of his work was burned, accidentally, before he learned to write in the daylight when no candles were needed? I'm just saying ...