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Depressing rereadings...
When I first began writing stories at the tender age of ten, I saved everything I wrote on floppy discs. Why? you might ask. Because in those days we only had one computer, and the disc protected my stories from being read by anyone else in my family (unless they put the disc into the computer, which they easily could have done, because I left it on a shelf right next to the computer. But I was young, and it gave me a sense of security, so there you go). I had several floppy discs, but one in particular was special to me, because it had my favorite story on it. It was the first story I ever wrote, and it was called People Change, and I was really, really attached to it. But one day I put this disc into my computer so I could open up People Change and something horrible happened: The disc was blank! All the stuff on it was gone, that's it, disappeared, nowhere to be found. Over a year's worth of writing had vanished without a trace. Naturally, I was upset. But eventually I resigned myself to the fact that I was never going to see People Change again, and I began a new disc. Over the next two years I went through five more discs, and at some point all five of these discs got erased! Eventually I got a brain and stopped saving stuff onto discs and started saving them onto my hard drive, which was a lot safer, especially after I learned how to password protect documents. But I still got bummed occasionally when I thought about those three years worth of writings I had lost.
So last night I was sitting at my computer. And I was looking around the desk for something, and I saw my six old discs. And I thought, I wonder if they still don't work. So I picked them up and put the first one in my computer and pulled up the page that said if it had anything on it and there was People Change! It was a very exciting moment for me. I immediately saved all the files on that disc onto my hard drive and put in another disc. Of the six discs I tried five of them worked. I saved all their files onto my hard drive (in case the discs broke again in the middle of the night), and then I went to bed.
Now today I opened these files and began to read, and it made me really depressed.
Why would it make her depressed? you are asking yourself. She hasn't seen some of these for five years.
And of course you would be correct. But you see, what is so depressing is that I was an absolutely horrible writer when I was ten. And also when I was eleven. And definitely when I was twelve. And I wasn't all that great when I was thirteen.
Well, you're probably thinking, of course you weren't as good as you are now, but you were probably good for your age.
And this is what I thought at first too. But then a horrible thought occurred to me:
When I was writing these, I thought they were good. And I think what I'm writing now is good. But what if, in three years, I read what I'm writing now and realize that it wasn't good? What if I'm really horrible, but I only think I'm good, and in a few years I'll realize I'm not good?
This is a very depressing thought. The other depressing thing about all this is that I realized that my sisters are liars! They are liars because they told me when I was writing these things that they were good, but now I know they were lying. This makes me really depressed. Whom can I trust now? Can I even trust my own abilities? I'm bummed. I'll just leave it at that.
Jerry the Frog Spoof Line of the Moment: Padme: What's with all this abnormally aggressive depression?
Anakin: It's all Obi-Wan's fault I'm a mass-murdering basket case!
Fans: Now we know where Luke got his whining from.
Deep Thought of the Day: Sometimes, when I reflect back on all the beer I drink, I start to feel real ashamed. But then I look into the glass and think of all the workers in the brewery and all their hopes and dreams. If I didn't drink this beer they might be out of worked and their dreams would be shattered! Then I say to myself, "It is better that I drink this beer and let their dreams come true, than to be selfish and worry about my liver." ~ Jack Handy
no subject
Um...exCUSE me!!! How long have I been sitting here, complimenting the CRAP out of your stories!!! Don't get me wrong, I'm really not yelling at you, but I need you to realize: I LOVE your stories and your style, and if you get down on this, your writing will change, and it won't be as enthusiastic. Hear this: your work is fantastic. Keep it the way it is.
no subject
YOU WERE TEN!
What you wrote then was good writing for a TEN YEAR OLD!!
I know college students who can't even write two good sentences in a row. If your writing hadn't changed in the past six years, then yes, you would be a bad writer, but the fact that there's such a noticable difference is something to be proud of, not depressed about.
no subject
INDEED I WAS!
I must confess that since mine is the only example I have, I am actually no judge of what is good writing for a TEN YEAR OLD!!
I know highschool students who can't write one good sentence at all. And didn't you read my entry "Afterthoughts"? *points up*
...
Nope, not mocking you... :P
no subject