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memory lane is a lousy neighborhood
Nov. 12th, 2007 | 09:31 pm
It was a rather disheartening day, writing-wise*, so I wound up doing some archiving chores that I'd been putting off. As I did, I started reading stuff I had written nine, ten, even eleven years ago. It was almost like reading a journal; I could remember where I was when I wrote that stuff, what I had been doing, what I was thinking at the time.
Man oh man oh man. What's astonishing is that the Jonathan Moeller of ten years ago now seems like a stranger to me. He possessed much more confidence, had a greater sense of purpose. Broader vision, if you will. I seem to have lost that somewhere along the way. My sense of what is possible has gotten rather constrained.
But, then, I'm a much better writer. I look at some of the stuff ten-years-younger-Jonathan-Moeller wrote and, lo, I rejoice that no other living eye will ever see it. Because, man, it was bad. So my cup's half full!
-JM
*Occasional fell moods are both a family trait and a prerequisite for writers.
Man oh man oh man. What's astonishing is that the Jonathan Moeller of ten years ago now seems like a stranger to me. He possessed much more confidence, had a greater sense of purpose. Broader vision, if you will. I seem to have lost that somewhere along the way. My sense of what is possible has gotten rather constrained.
But, then, I'm a much better writer. I look at some of the stuff ten-years-younger-Jonathan-Moeller wrote and, lo, I rejoice that no other living eye will ever see it. Because, man, it was bad. So my cup's half full!
-JM
*Occasional fell moods are both a family trait and a prerequisite for writers.