Some of us, in the heat of a break-up in our 20s, may have deleted the electronic folder that held all of our writing during a hysterical, bleary-eyed dive into self-destructive behavior. We thus crafted much bigger regrets than a fleeting screamfest of a “relationship” — one that resulted in the accidental destruction of more than one VCR. (It can really throw a gal off-balance to walk around wearing a dildo.) Yet the disappearance of all that writing also provides, frankly, a relief, and permits a mercifully less-specific (and undocumentable) remorse about being so honest at that tender young age. Tonight at Litquake's Regreturature, several excellent authors who kept that writing share their most raw and earnest early works in the form of fiction, nonfiction, journalism, and diary entries (!!!) they now deeply regret.
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