You have my sympathy, nonetheless. For being married to, or involved with, women who could be so cruel. Our writing isn't just "property." It is the child of our imaginations. Novelists often talk of "giving birth" and releasing their "child" out into the world when they submit it to a publisher, knowing that it will be edited - shaped and reformed and cared for or abused by others outside their control. To have your heart so bruised - you have my sympathy for that.

On the other hand, most of us have suffered the same loss at the hands of impersonal, callous, random failures of technology. We have all learned the folly of neglecting our backups, and most of us vow to do better and fail ourselves repeatedly, nontheless. Like the enthusiastic makers of New Year's resolutions, we forget those backups six months later. Most of us have no one to blame but ourselves, and are left with the grief and remorse of having neglected our own children of our imaginations. This is a good reminder.