Discovered Words

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On a floppy disk in my work bag, I’ve found a 5,700-word piece of fiction that I’d completely forgotten about. I have only the vaguest memory of having written it. It’s nearly twice as long as my current attempt at a novel. It’s yet another version of the story that I turned into a screenplay a few years ago and into the beginning of a story a couple of years before that: the story of my first year of college, of making my first gay friend, of dealing with being gay.

What is it about those years? Why do I keep returning to them? Upon reflection, it’s because it’s a period of time for which I want a do-over. Didn’t date, stayed mostly closeted; came out to my parents too soon but couldn’t deal with the consequences, so buried my sexual desires. (Those were prime years I wasted!) Spent three semesters being pre-med when I could have taken other courses. Didn’t do much with my summers.

I know that it’s all water under the bridge. But a deeper part of me keeps reaching back to those years, obsessing over them, wanting to do them over. That part of me, far below the surface of my day-to-day self, doesn’t accept that it’s over. It mourns for what was lost.

But I’m tired now of writing about those years. (Though as I write the above paragraphs I see there’s some good emotional material there.) My newest attempt at a novel doesn’t mention that stuff at all so far. I want to get away from the purely autobiographical and write something more creative.

And it’s kind of depressing to find that I’d written twice as many words as are in my latest effort. It’s like climbing a mountain and being happy with your progress but suddenly realizing that you’ve already gone twice as high before.

6 thoughts on “Discovered Words”

  1. i find the meta-data more interesting than the data itself. i find what you just wrote to be interesting. its interesting that you face regret now. its interesting that you barely remember an earlier attempt. its interesting that you feel over the act of writing about that from that earlier state of mind but you keep feeling like its what you need to do. i like what you write about it from todays state of mind.

  2. Better out than in, I always say. That you’d nearly forgotten you’d even written it suggests that maybe you’re more over that period than your conscious mind thinks you are?

    Regret sucks. You now live somewhere cool and have a good relationship, yes? Throw that disc away! Write your novel! Yay you!

    (I realize this is silly blog advice, the kind you only get from strangers, but I can tell you can write and I can tell you’re not really wallowing in those years, so, for whatever it’s worth: onward!)

    :)

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