Should you Like your Past Work?

Quite recently, I have opened up my old notebooks and begun reliving the stories that haunted my life four years ago. I was an aspiring author (you can read about how I started writing here), and I was in that infamous stage of "You don't know you don't know." My stories were fraught with random emotional outbursts (probably a result of something that had just happened during my day.) Plot twists were unforeseeable at best, unbelievable at worst. Dark and light clashed in paper cut-outs that struggled to be relatable and were often overly dramatic. Even worse, info dumps were common and usually came about when I had a grand, spur-of-the-moment idea and couldn't wait to set up for it.

Do you think that I've been enjoying reading these stories? Well, from time to time, I mutter a shocked exclamation over something I had forgotten about. I hang my head in shame over how I treated a character, or flinch at how ignorant I was over simple things like proper behaviour between a man and a woman. (For instance, I would tell my old self that two unmarried lovebirds shouldn't go on a journey alone...) But over all, a fierce excitement and love has welled up in my heart for these old stories.

You wouldn't think that four years would be long enough to form nostalgia, but I've moved so fast through my stories, constantly improving, that I barely had any time to look back. These old stories are unbelievably fresh to me. I remember where I was when I wrote certain scenes, but it also feels so long ago. I remember the horribly strong emotions that seemed to come out of nowhere over the death of a character. I remember how I got certain ideas, I and see where the ideas I have now originated.

For as long as I can remember, my parents have always told me, "Don't get rid of that sketchbook," or "Make sure you save that notepad of ideas." I obeyed them of course, and even then, I could imagine how fun it would be to look back later. As I get farther and farther away from certain accomplishments, it becomes more fun to look back on them. You can see how much I've enjoyed that when I review how far I've come in posts like this.

But lately, as I've been going through my old work, I've come to realize how truly important it is to save it.

First of all, you never know what you're going to wish you'd kept. Unfortunately, we've all experienced this with toys or books that we had when we were very little. There have been a multitude of things I thought I still had, but when I go to my mom to ask, she says, "Don't you remember? You said you were sure you didn't want that!" Anything that was ever once special to you, you'll regret getting rid of in the future.

Imagine for example, that you wrote a play when you were very little, acted it out and videoed it. For a while, you probably thought you were great. When you reached eleven or twelve, you suddenly realized that you weren't exactly the star you thought you were. In extreme embarrassment, you deleted the video. Eight years later, you're entering college to get a degree in theatre. Your new friends ask to see your very first time acting. You'd love to see it yourself as well. Unfortunately...

I've experienced this myself (with small things---none of the notebooks that my parents told me never to get rid of!). It's not a nice experience, and you can't help feeling like you've lost a bit of yourself that you'll never be able to remember.

But a second reason you should keep your work is to show yourself how far you've come and teach yourself some humility. We'll return to the example of a theatre major. Perhaps you become a famous actor and, regrettably, become pretty conceited about yourself. If you don't have any old work to remind yourself how you've grown, you won't have anything to remind yourself that you were ever...well...bad.

Looking at old work reminds us to be humble because of where we've started. It also helps us relate to others who are in positions under us! Good teachers remember where they've come from, and use that to help them relate to their students. A couple of years ago, when I was fourteen or fifteen, I looked back at my old work. I was very much ashamed of much of it.

Immature, was the word that probably came to my mind.

Now, I correct that word. Naive. And that's ok, because I was only twelve. I could write about what I wanted (as long as it was appropriate, obviously), regardless of whether or not I was old enough to deal with the topics knowledgeably. The thing is, I wouldn't have matured, if I hadn't started somewhere. (Of course just experiencing life grew me up and prepared me to write more as well.)

That word immature? It applied to me when I thought my work was worthless, something ridiculous and embarrassing. As my dad asked me one time, "Would you think that about your kid's work?" Of course not! One day, when I get married and have children, everything they do, whether they've just drawn a stick figure at five years old or the official Presidential portrait at thirty-three, will be important to me---as long as they've done their best.

Being your worst critic, looking back and thinking your work was stupid or worthless is one of the worst possible attitudes you can have. First of all, it assumes that your work now has arrived. Talk about arrogant. Second of all, it disregards any work you had to do in the past to grow in your abilities.

I'm so glad that today I can sit back and read my work and love it, not because I think it's perfect the way I did when I first wrote it, but because I see where it was going. I see the influence in my every day writing now. I see how it inspired my love of writing, my love of characters and their dialogue. Every block builds upon another, and one of the worst things you can do is to pretend that the foundation doesn't exist anymore.

Those info dumps? They were the foundation of my world building now. The cardboard cut-out characters? They challenged me to build relatable ones. The unbelievable plot twists? They urged me to apply foreshadowing, dropping hints here and there, learning to tease the readers.

And one day, if I ever reach a point where the words I'm writing now seem to be ridiculous and embarrassing, I hope I'll at least be able to remember their message and know that every word I wrote carried me forward.

So don't beat yourself up about your past work! It might seem ridiculous that it appeared amazing at the time (or it might never have seemed amazing), but it was unbelievably important.

"For though the Lord is high, he regards the lowly,

but the haughty he knows from afar."

-Psalm 138:6

If the LORD regards the lowly, shouldn't we? Even if it's our own past work?

"Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted."

-Matthew 23:12

Disregarding any proof that you ever had to grow to get where you are now is definitely exalting yourself. Better to admit that yes, you had to grow and now that you're thinking about it, realize that there will always be room to grow!

I hope you'll think about what I said and open up one of your oldest projects tonight. :)