Old Fiction

I've been clearing up the office in preparation for moving house (a process that is going to take several weeks, at least), and found a load of old writing from years back. I threw a small amount of it away - hardcopy duplicates of stuff I have on disk, and don't need any more - but I will keep most of it (albeit locked away where no one except me can ever get to it).

I even found a "portfolio" of samples of my "best" work, ha ha! (Mind you, I'm sure in five years' time I'll look back on what I'm writing now with the same pitying derision.)

It's strange, how you get better so quickly but never get good enough. Or perhaps strange isn't the word - maybe it's the opposite...