Five years ago, my roommate gave me a trunk he wasn’t using. Immediately thereafter, I stuck some stuff in it and stowed it. We’ve used it to move to different places in two different counties over those years. The other day, he asked for it back.
Inside is a three-ring binder with various folders in it. There are seeds of science fiction novels. There are notes about planetology, maps of landscapes, and “scenes” – little pieces of story.
I wrote all this stuff when I was very much younger. Some of it is typed on a manual typewriter. Some of it looks to have been printed on my Sharp PA-1050 Typewriter that my grandmother gave me for my 15th birthday. Some of it seems to have been printed on an Apple StyleWriter II. None of it is dated later than 1993.
I read through one little snippet. Oh, my goodness, it’s all really bad. I mean really bad. I mean I’m not going to post any of it anywhere on the internet. It’s just too ridiculous.
You’d agree, if you read it. But, I have my pride. Sorry.
