Though I have not yet finished exploring the rich resources of my family’s past, this weekend I turned my attention to a group of boxes that my roommate and I have been tripping over since we moved in. All I knew was that there were papers of some sort buried in there, but I had no idea from when.
Turns out, the majority of the content was from my high school years, and even a few “treasures” from those horrid middle school years. I shudder just thinking about that now.
I found a few papers from various classes and the plethora of material from my college search, complete with multiple drafts of my admissions essay and supplementary writings. I saved the final version of that essay, but trashed the rest. I couldn’t bear to read more than a sentence of it, though.
Surprisingly, what I found the most of were my attempts at writing stories. I was much more creative back then than I feel I am now. One of the stories was specifically for a class, where the assignment was to write a “founding myth.” I remember struggling heartily through that assignment, yet I found snippets and drafts of other stories I don’t even recall writing, much less saving. And most of them are pretty good!
Now, I also came across the occasional scrap of paper with a hastily written story idea that I had to throw in the trash as soon as I read it, ashamed that I once thought such a concept worth committing to paper.
But overall, I’m impressed with my former self’s creative side, much of which I attribute to a friend of mine starting a creative writing club in high school (the remnants of which I also found…). Now I just need to work to stir those creative juices again, bring it back from the ashes, hopefully improved somewhat by the intervening years.
It’s time to return to fiction. Just don’t hold your breath waiting for me to announce any publication of such efforts. Trust me on this one.