13 October 2016i've resurrected the horrible, awful, no good, very bad thing. what i once called the "horrible bitch of a blasted exorcism/writing thing" and which we worked over for a solid year in the naked lady bar writing group.
today, i opened the file to see if it might somehow look different in the light of five years later and be somehow salvageable. if, at the very least, there might be a shorter short story within the horrible mess of it.
oh, the irony! that a piece on being born again is completely without life.
circa may 2011, i apparently hated this thing so much that, after soliciting croftie's editorial comments, i did nothing to enact them. instead, the file just sat there for five years with her comments for how to improve it.
this may be a good sign. for i've repeatedly solicited croftie's comments on something, given up on it after receiving them, then returned to it again maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaany moons later to find that it suddenly works.
or it may be a sign that this is truly irredeemable and it is time to let it go.
because my process is one of prolixity, i am a frequent murderer of darlings, but this would seem to go beyond that. i think it's something to do about how, as a writer, it's hard to accept there are things you write only for yourself. a difficulty because so much of writing occurs in the tension between writing and the knowledge that what you write will be read.
and yet there are things that are of a particular time and place and which arise from particular experiences, and they maybe don't require anything more than being written down and worked over for awhile. they are timely in that they do something in that moment when you write them, but they are of that moment only.
if all writing is self-centered this would seem to be the most self-centered sort.