I’ve been taking a lot of fiction writing classes, both before and during the pandemic, in the hope that maybe one story will not suck so badly that it could be revised into a publishable thing. So far that hasn’t happened, but it has produced a lot of printed out/marked up drafts that I look at every so often and feel bad about.
Then I took another class, which is more about making collages as a way to discover yourself. It involves a lot of cutting and gluing and sticking things together in pleasing combinations. It also gave me something to do with those marked up bits of story text I have filed away. At least they have a home now.