I recently decided to tackle a Big Project -- cleaning out my old files.
These aren't files tucked away in a file drawer. These are the Old Files, the ones stored in a box that is stored in a disused well room (cool and dry, but so out of the way even the spiders don't go there). My husband is the one who tucks things into that room. I refuse to go in (think "Root cellar" and you get the idea).
So he dragged out 3 boxes and a trunk full of ... stuff. Some of it is scrapbooks. Some of it is work-related (old writing samples, resumes, etc). I spent most of 2 mornings sorting, tossing, weeding out. I ended up with 2 boxes and a trunk and I told him, "When I go, just toss all this stuff. Nobody but me would care about it." Old letters, pictures, birthday cards. I had fun going through them, and suspect I'll have fun going through them in another 10 years or so.
Now I'm left with a stack of 3 or 4 notebooks that has my old writing in it. Some of it is surprisingly good, but the plots are very weak. I'm going to peek through them in my spare time this winter (ha! What is spare time? Who has any of that?!) The one thing that struck me as I skimmed through them was that my style is somewhat like my style today -- mostly first-person, casual, direct, straightforward. I would have thought with all the 'craft' classes & workshops I've attended, that maybe my real Voice would be changed. But it isn't.
That's sort of a relief to me. Now if I can just wade through the asinine plots ....
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