I don’t know if I’ve ever properly explained a phenomenon that has intrigued and upset me for many many years. Each time I write a creative piece my writing style changes, I get locked into a mindset that carries from the moment I begin writing up until the moment I finish. However, after a nights sleep if I come back to that piece the writing style I have used is entirely alien to me.
I am reading something written by someone I no longer remember, a person whose ideas I do not know and of a direction they dreamt that no longer is apparent to me. I am effectively reading a completely alien story that is not of my creation. It’s alarming and consistent, I’ve never once come back to a story and believed I wrote it.
It’s not a matter of arrogance either, I’m not necessarily saying that I’m coming back to writing I could never surpassed, or that I’m experiencing a piece of literature that has profoundly changed my life. I’m just entirely unaware of its content, I read each page as surprised and confused as anyone else.
For instance tomorrow when I wake up and read this very sentence I will not remember writing it. I’ll remember having written the night before, and remember the basic idea of what I wrote, but these specific words and the combination that I have chosen to complete each concept will surprise me without a doubt.
Maybe I’m not unique in this case? Maybe this is just how every writer, every painter, every musician, or any other creative mind (not necessarily good, but creative, I’m not gloating) feels? This is not a topic I bring up commonly with people in conversation so perhaps this is less a phenomenon and merely me experiencing the same odd results as everyone else.
I’m not sure, but seeing what this guy writes is really weird.