On the writer self, yesterday and today

Why do we write (and share) what we do when we do?

“I can’t believe I wrote that.”

“Where did that come from?”

“I never thought about it that way before.”

#1. Have you ever written something only to later stand back in awe? I’m not talking about the egotistical kind of awe, but true wonder—a realization that you accessed some truth or insight that was previously inaccessible.

#2. Have you ever written something only to later stand back and see just how underwhelming it was? I’m talking about the kind of writing that you remember feeling so filled with profundity but now, in fact, reads a little shallow or disconnected or self-indulgent.

I recently experienced both.

And while I wish I could say the awe factor has been more prevalent in my literary career in general, underwhelm is right up there, too. Luckily more so with works that are not published. I’ve written many words that I consider filler or, more optimistically, a trail of words that have led me toward more important realizations.

I wrote a considerable amount of climate-based fiction from 2012 to 2016, at a time when the genre was less popular than it is now. I was only a few years out of my MFA, and I was working multiple jobs to pay off debts. My writing happened in the early mornings or late hours in our twice-robbed one-bedroom apartment in San Antonio. In fact, one of the robberies forced me to rewrite a few of the stories.

Anyway, I recently revisited a lot of these stories due to a forthcoming republication. My initial response was hesitation to return to this older work, but a publisher, Press Americana, expressed a desire to re-release a collection of climate fiction due to its timeliness. When it comes to fiction, I am usually of the mindset that once a thing is done creatively, it’s time to move forward and start the next thing.

Unfortunately for us, climate concerns are more resonant now than they were then, and they were more resonant then than they were when Al Gore was being chastised for holding congressional hearings on human responsibility when it comes to planetary health in the mid-70s before I was born. Climate change will be more topical in five minutes than it is now.

And, due to the “hot topic” of climate change (sorry … I had to), here I found myself leading the unexpected resurrection of older fiction. And wow has offered me quite an interesting journey of discoursing with my former writer self. As I reread, I saw glimpses of insight that seemed beyond my experience at the time. I was busy surviving then, not keeping up with social issues. But the magical/strange stories I wrote then seemed driven by some deeper truth.

If you are organized enough to have older work on your computer or in your files somewhere that you can return to, I invite you to do a search. Try to find something that is five or ten years old, something you saved for some reason at some time. Something you wrote at a time distant just long enough that you can’t remember quite what you were thinking when you wrote it. Read it as objectively as possible and discourse with it. Honestly.

While I’ve had to update references and tweak language here and there in my own process of returning to my literary past, I realize both the value of my perspective then and now. I also understand that both moments of underwhelm and awe exist in response to my former writer self, and both are valuable on this artistic journey.

As a person who will never be in danger of hoarding, who eagerly purges and finds Swedish Death Cleaning a genius and comforting practice (metaphorically and in practice), to return to the cluttered art of the past has brought unexpected joy. It’s led me to reevaluate the depth and nuance of my current works in progress.

Prompt: Resurrect old work, no matter how self-indulgent or how profound. Have a dialogue with that work and see if you have anything to add or change or rework.