Rambling.
I recently reformatted my computer, and in doing so backed up all my shit onto an external drive.
While I was doing so, I stumbled on a folder titled "in progress" on the old drive that I can't remember making. In it were 22 stories and random thoughts and jots all mostly forgotten.
In going through them, I am somewhat amazed. A few of them are exceptionally old (well, 2003) and reading them is strange.
Some are disjointed simple ideas and outlines, others are fully fleshed out (as fully as my crappy stuff gets) stories that just lack an end point.
It was awesome and depressing all at once.
I wonder why I don't really write much anymore.
I wonder why I ever started.
I wonder why I kept going despite the fact that, let's be honest as shit, I am not all that good at it.
I guess it was fun, a lot of what I was feeling at the time came out in those stories. Probably more than people will ever understand, but I think that's normal.
Even now, sorting through these old ones I can pinpoint the feeling of being up in the middle of the night because I couldn't sleep, and turning to the computer.
In fact I'd say 95% of anything I've ever written was at night with a complete lack of sleep and a barely functioning brain.
I don't use that as an excuse for how bad it all turned out, it's just incredibly weird to me.
Maybe the cool thing to do would be to finish some of these, but I don't know how that will go.
Regardless, as I said, it has been somewhat inspiring, somewhat depressing and generally nice to reflect on some of those times.
That is all.
While I was doing so, I stumbled on a folder titled "in progress" on the old drive that I can't remember making. In it were 22 stories and random thoughts and jots all mostly forgotten.
In going through them, I am somewhat amazed. A few of them are exceptionally old (well, 2003) and reading them is strange.
Some are disjointed simple ideas and outlines, others are fully fleshed out (as fully as my crappy stuff gets) stories that just lack an end point.
It was awesome and depressing all at once.
I wonder why I don't really write much anymore.
I wonder why I ever started.
I wonder why I kept going despite the fact that, let's be honest as shit, I am not all that good at it.
I guess it was fun, a lot of what I was feeling at the time came out in those stories. Probably more than people will ever understand, but I think that's normal.
Even now, sorting through these old ones I can pinpoint the feeling of being up in the middle of the night because I couldn't sleep, and turning to the computer.
In fact I'd say 95% of anything I've ever written was at night with a complete lack of sleep and a barely functioning brain.
I don't use that as an excuse for how bad it all turned out, it's just incredibly weird to me.
Maybe the cool thing to do would be to finish some of these, but I don't know how that will go.
Regardless, as I said, it has been somewhat inspiring, somewhat depressing and generally nice to reflect on some of those times.
That is all.
posted by D. at 6:35 p.m.
3 Comments:
I know that feeling.
I get that a lot when I look at Nintopia may it rest in peace. Funny how the name came from you one night at superstore cutting yourself on that broken spaghetti sauce jar, good times.
Keep up the writing man, your stories were always a good read. Still waiting for a sequel or a prequel to Gregg Hadd. you could add like a crank twist to it where he didn't really die, he was just blinking when the camera panned out on the final frame. get on it.
I'd say your stuff still rates among the top 10 stuff I've read, ever.
I found some of my old stories dating back to high school. Some were even finished. I probably won't be sharing them because they were overly dramatic, and by god, the fonts.
Still. If you feel like writing, just do it. I've added two new short stories to the roster in the last six months. There's nothing quite as gratifying as banging out a story, just to see where you go with it.
It's kind of like masturbating, really.
I very sincerely love reading anything and everything you write. It would be so delicious to read all of that stuff you found, even just privately. Though I know that will never happen and would possibly defeat the purpose of some of it. Perhaps some of it I would wish I'd never read, haha...you've written a story or two that has haunted me.
But yes. Good stuff. You have a very vivid imagination.
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