Zeus thinks he's a police dog.

The other night I was looking for a micro-cassette player, and ended up stumbling across boxes full of old stories instead. Never did locate the tape player, but I managed to kill an entire evening in reminiscing.

Some of these stories were old old old--pre-Clarion by several years. A few were even from high school. Others were from immediately pre and post Clarion, and I even ran across some of my early drafts of my first novel. I also ran across some hardcopy of the novel I wrote during my novel dare--the novel that I had subsequently lost due to multiple hard drive failures combined with laundering the backup disk. (Yes, it went through the washer. It did not fare well.)

It's hard to describe how emotional an experience it was. It felt like old-home week in ways, and then also felt like I was meeting an old friend whom I'd forgotten. Some of the stories were old enough that I was reading them again for the first time--I honestly did not remember writing a couple of them, though I know I did. Others were personal favorites that were a delight to find again. Most of them were completely un-sellable--some because of quality (or lack thereof) and others because they don't fit into the "mold" of magazine fiction. Some, however, I pulled out and set aside to look at again later and possible do some rewriting.

It's been a long time since I've written anything fiction-wise. I haven't felt like writing in a very long time. I know I was burned out and frustrated there for a while. I also know that the writing got me through a very tough time in my life and was a much needed emotional outlet. I'm certainly more content now than I've been in years. But, I think I'm feeling that niggling desire building again to create again.