Recently, I started looking over my old stories for inspiration. In case you’ve joined me since then, for Hallowe’en 2012 (or thereabouts) I wrote a story about a child who is taken from his home by strange magical beings. The story was intended to be creepy and unsettling, and it only really became a serial because I was bored and wanted something to write.
However, this past week I read it again, and I’m honestly kicking myself that I didn’t question the basic premise of the story. What was meant to be a nice story about a group of children learning magic read more like Stockholm Syndrome in the making, with Tom coming to accept that Lord Fulgaris meant well when he took him away from his home without an explanation.
I’m a different writer than the person from three years ago, and while I still love these characters, continuing on with the story when its very premise is kind of gross (and reminiscent of residential schools) is not something I want to do and was certainly not my intent when writing that first chapter. At the same time, I don’t know if I want to go back and revise the story right this instant, or scrap it and start over. Same characters, different story. There’s also a part of me that wants to preserve the creepy, problematic original version. It reminds me of how far I’ve come as a writer.
At this point, it’s been at least three years since my last update, so maybe it is a good time to start again if I can find the energy. I’m not sure what to do. I worked very hard on those first few chapters, after all.