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04 March 2012 @ 10:04 pm
Today I got rid of six years' worth of fiction writing, from 7th to 12th grade.

I'm mainly annoyed at myself for having wasted so much time. The love of fiction and the ability to write do not necessarily translate into the ability to write fiction in any serious way, and I don't think I was at fault for not realizing this earlier, but when I look at the time I spent and the direction I tried to set for myself...

Well. I feel better for having got rid of it. I'm not sure why I kept the things I wrote in college, especially since I'm pretty sure I have those on my hard drive somewhere, but I may go back and get rid of those soon anyway.

I figured this all out about five years ago, but I could never quite get rid of that stuff before now. I don't know whether I was clinging to the idea of myself as a fiction writer, or whether I was influenced by my notions of what a person ought to keep for nostalgic reasons. Probably the latter; I do find myself keeping things I don't really want because I think that normal people would, and therefore I should too.
(Deleted comment)
happiness is not a potatocumaeansibyl on March 14th, 2012 11:23 pm (UTC)
What bothers me most is that I haven't got a universe, or a continent, or even a small city stuck in my head or anywhere else -- because I always thought I would.

I wish you the best with liberating your continent.