Insecurity

Looking back has good and bad affects. As a writer, it's always nice to see how I've developed and refined my personal style over the years - improvements never seem as drastic when looking at stories I wrote months, rather than years, before. Still, it scares me how much I've changed as a writer just in the last five or six years. Back then (towards the end of 2005 going into 2007), I thought I had reached the peak of my brilliance. I was inspired, wrote at warp speed and hot and sexy and romantic and beautiful and just one big break away from making me famous.

Right. Reading old stories brings me back down to reality. I had no clue. Well, not entirely true. I had something of a clue. I just didn't have my act together nearly as much as I thought I did. Now I'm wondering if I've done myself a disservice by posting stories I wrote a long time ago and leaving them online. I've done so much better since then, but I'm not willing to post a short story in my online store that I could send to a traditional publisher instead. Now I'm left to wonder if my knowledge, and mine alone, that my writing is a lot better than what I've shown is enough to make me feel more secure as I move forward and attempt to sell my work on a bigger scale.