I must apologize. I’m a bit out of practice writing for enjoyment. There are 66 draft versions of posts in WordPress that I’ve kept meaning to finish and publish.
Some consist of a mere title or concept. Some are a basic outline, while others contain several paragraphs of prose which, upon review, I have deemed inadequate for publication because they don’t sound like me. Considering that some of those posts are from 2010, they’re more of a time capsule than anything else. Reading a few of them after so long had some surprising results: anger, guilt, sadness, and a touch of shame.
In some ways, it was like reading letters from someone I was close with in high school but lost touch with soon after. I recognize the handwriting, I vaguely remember the subject matter and emotional connections, but it’s pretty disconnected and detached and hazy.
If I found these in a box of papers while cleaning out the attic, I’d glance at them, experience a fleeting moment of sadness over not knowing that person anymore, guilt over having let things drift as they did (convinced that it was my fault, and not just a fact of life), anger over feeling the guilt, and then shame about all of it. Then I’d set that paper aside in a pile of documents for shredding; I don’t want to keep it, I don’t want it to remain intact, but burning it would be melodramatic. So shredding it like a financial statement seems to be the best option.
There is no shredding function here. I can trash, keep as draft, or publish. Chances are that fifty of the 66 posts will end up as trash. Normally, I’d go through them all just to see if there’s anything worth saving or repurposing, but I think it might be a good exercise to essentially throw the whole lot into a (virtual) fire pit and start from scratch.
So that’s the plan. Sometimes, it’s better to tear things down and start from scratch rather than go through the ruins on a salvage mission.