If I still possess the first thing I ever wrote and was pleased with (a rhyming ballad/epic poem I wrote when I was 14) I hope I find it before I die so I can burn it.

Looking through my old stuff makes me kind of happy. It's usually not as bad as I thought at the time, or else it is clear evidence that I've gotten better. I just remind myself of the truism that in fiction, one never arrives. If you think you have, you're doing it wrong.