When I was 15, still in high school, I finished my first novel.
It wasn’t very good, but it taught me a lot. I felt such immense passion writing it, such incredibly joy and excitement that I was creating something. The passion bled away as I tried to get it published and came to the cruel realization that it was nowhere close to being good enough for publication. I threw it up on Amazon, just so I could hold the book in my own hands, and then I moved on.
I hold a great deal of affection for my first finished work. I think there is value in seeing how far we’ve come. And if you happen to be someone who enjoys my writing, you might enjoy a glimpse of what my writing was like before I practiced, and practiced, and practiced to reach the point I’m at now.