I had an odd moment the other day when I received a copy of the small print publication 'Garbaj' through the post. There was an old piece of mine in it, and I couldn't for the life of me remember sending it off to them. I assume I must have. People who use your work without you sending it to them tend to focus on rather more famous people, and very rarely send complementary copies to the people involved.
Yet it's raised a point about writing, and that is that these pieces are in the world. They continue to be in the world after you've sent them out. They have your name on. So are you proud of everything you have ever put your name to? There might come a point, a hundred or two years from now, when some bored PhD student is sifting through the archives of this early 21st century explosion in minor zines, or even ebooks, and they'll come across your work, or mine. Have you ever stopped to think about what they'll see?