They tell you to never look back. It just stifles the present. In writing, it makes one think of the negative points of one’s writing. I wish I had done it better one moans. However, I do not mind looking back at what I have written in the past if just for the curiosity of rediscovering how my older work sounded.
I always intend on doing a good if not great job, something that I can be proud of, or at least somewhat proud of by my standards. Something that comes out in the wash is not good enough for me, but something that is given a thorough treatment comes out better for ware. I don’t like to be so conscientious, as if conscientious is uncool, but I follow my instinct to add layers of polish. Isn’t this what writers are told to do?
in 1999, I wrote a short piece that was implicitly about truth but even I, the writer of that article, found myself caught between truth and experience. On one hand, truth is solid. On the other hand, experience is fluid, it flows. They can be in contradiction, but sometimes the two can intersect perfectly. This was not one of those times. My article stated a truth; but something in my nature was also going in the opposite direction as well. I went along with the truth, but had I ignored writing about experience at my peril? The editor encouraged me that the article was about a good truth. Yet I got the feeling that wasn’t enough in his eyes. Myself, I thought the article was great and even now I think it’s the best article I did for that magazine up until that time.
Talking Writing 