I started writing one year ago and have begun pushing my work to the open source. Unconventional, yes, but how many authors have also worked as software engineers? I use the interpreted language known as English for my work, and like all source code, it must be versioned and integrated into a larger program to be effective. The work is never done, and it requires constant maintenance, but I digress, and my thoughts are presently focused on the consequences of my actions. I have scanned through my work and identified several pieces which are quite bitter and aggressive, others which are neither accurate nor comprehensive, and many which are incomplete or even obsolete, but I am choosing to push them to the open source regardless.
I considered keeping many of my pieces private, or even destroying them, but that would be hiding a part of my journey, and I need to track my path for my own sanity. My hesitation comes from fear of retribution and the appearance of impropriety given the polite face I have been socialised to wear, but I am full of impolite and undesirable thoughts. I am a human being born in the late 20th century and I possess the same capacity for contradiction and variance that all humans do. I know my mind is riddled with ugliness and horror, but if my work is to represent me, it should be a true representation, not a pulped and filtered version for the consumption of the unexamined.
I look back now at my work and see not a body of truth or even purpose, but simply a mind attempting to make sense of this chaotic world. I will in time continue to upgrade and improve myself, and will adjust my work accordingly, but no progress can occur until it has all been checked in to version control. This has to happen, and given my commitment to the open source, there is no other way. I am taking a monumental risk by making my inner world visible to others, but somewhere buried in this soul is a child, and I intend to excavate myself from the ruins.