Over the weekend, I spent some time looking through my early blog posts, and short fiction and essays from a year or two (or longer) ago.
Good gravy, so much of it embarrasses me. Even the published stuff.
Once I was proud of each of those pieces. Now I don't want anyone else to lay eyes on them. It doesn't seem like the writing I know I'm capable of. And I don't want to be judged by that old stuff.
I can gauge how my voice and style have changed. And I wonder if it's those things that have changed more than it's marked improvement of my writing. Or, maybe it is improvement, which bled into the voice and style I've been working toward, and feel I've found within the last several months. I'm not entirely sure.
How do you suppose it works?
And when you look back at your old things, how do you feel about them? How and how much have you changed?