Growing Up?

So a friend of mine was just talking to me about writing, and specifically my writing. I don’t normally share things with people I know in real life; I used to be highly self-conscious about it and always wanted it to be perfect before I showed people things. 

But this friend of mine asked me why he hasn’t read anything of mine (given that a lot of what I talk about, especially during the summer, are various projects I’m working on) and I realized that I don’t have a good reason. I wouldn’t open a GDoc and let people watch me type (because I edit while writing and I’d be too weirded out), but I don’t place my self-worth on the quality of my first drafts. At least, I don’t think so. 

I’m rereading Spark, the version I wrote nearly a year ago. It’s… well. It’s got potential. I can tell where I liked writing it, the places I was having fun. I can also see the things I made up on the spot, the places where I got bored and didn’t want to research anything. It was written in fifteen days, I think? So I understand it. 

It’s not as terrible as I thought it would be–or maybe my perspective is changing. I’m interested in the plot, and that’s not because I wrote it. I’ve always had something of a knack for dialogue, and that’s really felt natural throughout. I know there are lots of things wrong with my writing (namely, my inability to describe anything), but I’m growing out of the knee-jerk “EVERYTHING I WRITE IS TERRIBLE, BURN IT ON SIGHT”. I want to publish, someday, and this feels like a step in that direction.

(Though I am describing a novel I wrote my first JulNo, Retreat, and it’s the silliest plot in the world but I have such a soft spot for it.)

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