So I've been reading my old stories (I had an old Mac in highschool and most of my written opus so far has been typed on that old, reliable buddy; few days ago I've transferred all the stories from the Mac to my PC and thank the gods for floppy discs 'cause otherwise they'd be stuck on Mac still) and I'm amazed at how not entirely horrible they are. They're not good, let me make that clear. But some of them can be improved without too much work. Well okay, a lot of work but even after I flay the oily skin and strip the foul-smelling flesh, the skeleton that remains will serve its purpose and hold up a new creation with tender yet succulent flesh and smooth, silky skin and this metaphore went the wrong way several times during its journey...

Things I've learned so far: my prose improved considerably over the years (most of these things are from high school) and especially in the latter years of college after I took a creative writing class and started writing for various contests and generally continued reading a lot and paying attention to how the artists and those who get paid for their work do it. Most of the early stories or story fragments (guess which group is bigger?) are dealing with the same topics I write about today, both genre and non-genre related. Others are the musings and bad poetry of a highschool teenager. An interesting insight into my mind at that tender age. No, you will not see them

Comparing my old writing with my new writing I defintely see an improvement both literary and stylistic, my prose far less clunky and my characters come equipped with more depth. At least that's how I see it. Which is why when I was told some of my older writing was better than some of my newer I was...confused. Oh well, no accounting for good taste, eh?

My point is this: the only reason I can spot the difference in the quality of my writing isn't a sudden attack of self-deprecation but the fact that I wrote and kept on writing and kept thinking about writing better and trying to write better. While at the same time of course, thinking about writing something more than actually writing something or finishing what I started. So I guess I finally realized for myself what other people with more experience have been telling me.

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and in other news I had a great weekend with some of the awesomest geeks and geekettes I have the pleasure of knowing. Now I wish I had a DeLorean. Guys, gals, I love you. You know who you are.