I hate my old stories. Of the ones that are published only a few are good. The one coming out in the New York Tyrant this summer is good. The one that was published in Opium last year (or was it the year before?...no, last year) is stupid...no good at all. Written to be published. Should not exist.
Of the very short ones, many suck. The one, "Nonfiction," that just appeared in elimae is good - I like that one. The one that was in alice blue is terrible. I feel bad about that. I wrote one that I really like and just sent it to them, maybe they will accept that and expunge the memory of the earlier one... I hate that one now.
This is the lesson of reading Salter: never write a single thing that I don't consciously think needs to be written.
Experiments must be thrown away.
Amusing asides, however amusing they may be.
To the trash.