Every now and then I have the opportunity or misfortune of finding some of my old worker. As a writer I take pride in evolving, developing my style and becoming better. So when I come across my old stuff, especially from when I was starting out I can't help but cringe. Yes, even at some stuff that I published. Recently I found five word docs from four years ago and it was like reading the ravings of a psyche patient. Most of them weren't finished and all of them were clearly going for something but got whacked at a dark gas station along the way. But one particular story I found was finished, in proper manuscript format and damned if it didn't make me smile. In fact, it was so good I added it to my revolving cake display and am going to send it off to litmags for publication. It was definitely ahead of its time.
But yes, looking back at older works is a lot like finding your old childhood diary and realizing how much of an idealistic moron you were.
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