It’s hard to call yourself a writer when you don’t write. It’s almost as if there should be a past tense noun for someone that wrote something once and then slipped back into a normal life of mundane nonsense. A “wroter” maybe. I’ve been living this diurnal routine and I let fiction slip to that thing I could do, that thing I did once and would do again as if it were a project car collecting oxidization out in the barn.
Actually I don’t have a barn; no one in the suburbs does. And I don’t have an old car, or anything that’s antique and rusting. I just can’t get into that nostalgic mindset and I suppose that’s either because I’m pretentions or lazy. Things with “potential” make me cringe. The finished product is where it’s at. I prefer shiny. So maybe it’s the work involved with a writing project that feels so off-putting. The prospect of a rough and then a second and third draft before that coveted final.
I suppose I need to just do it. Holy shit, isn’t that the single best phrase in advertising history? I was eight years old and on vacation in Ohio when I heard it first. Nike had paid the billions required to use a Beetles song in a TV commercial and played “Revolution” juxtaposed against some grainy footage of track stars running in their swoosh laden gear and sweat. The commercial faded to black and then that iconic “just do it” appeared in a white font. I imagine the guy that came up with that slogan was working late one night trying to appease the Nike gods and he was probably wracking his brain trying to figure out a proper slogan when he told himself to “just do it”. That’s when the choir of heavenly voices accompanied the rays of light shooting down from the heavens. It was perfect, and it’s what I need to do. And for the record, a “vacation in Ohio” is like a pleasure cruise in a cesspit; oxymoronic as hell.
I’m a few thousand words away from completing “Ephemeral Truths and Short Fiction”, or at least the shitty rough draft, and I suppose I could finish by Friday if I just did it. It’ll be a collection of four short stories and the drivel you find here on The Velveteen Maraca. It’ll be free, so I’ve got no problem saying that you’ll get your money’s worth. And yes, there will be plenty in the book that isn’t on this site and there are things on this site that won’t be in the book so please keep coming back here like addled crack addicts. Thanks for that by the way; I can’t tell you how happy I get when I notice that I’ve gained a new follower or when I get that first read from a previously uncharted foreign country.
This blog, this crutch, has been consuming my writing time. It serves its purpose, but at times it’s like a parasite that only partially fulfils my need to put thought into print. It’s got pictures and statistics and comments and loads of other distractions that keep me coming back but I need to shun this outlet until book #2 is complete. So I’m going to. This is the last post I’m going to make until book #2 enters the editing process. I promise (myself, not you).
Anyway, here’s the cover image. I love it. I didn’t have many followers in the beginning but if you go back to my first post, Wal-Mart, you’ll be able to figure out the impetus behind the image. Lastly, you should to go to www.miemomedia.com if you need professional graphic design services because I couldn’t be more pleased with Miemo’s services.
Miemo’s personal blog can be found at: www.miemonster.net