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The...

a couple of years ago I was trying to make it big time
as a short story writer
I had already written two novels
which were moderately successful amongst my friends
(until two threatened to sue me)
looking around you- I suppose
every snatch of conversation, every weird reflection of light,
every nuance seems to hold a story within itself
 
I  consider myself a conceptional artist now
no reworkings of personal experiences for me
that is all too easy
I want to capture the human condition
in a contemporary symbolist way
but also to write in a conversational, accessible tone
 
at the time, I compiled notes on palm cards
of any ideas for possible stories
much like contemporary poets do on beer coasters
I had dozens of these cards within a couple weeks
the one in front of me 
in the process of this research  
in upper case letters reads (no shit):

STORY OF PEOPLE WALKING AROUND WITH HARD ONS. FUCK WHEN FLACCID
GUY. SON OF AN ALCOHOLIC BORN WITH A DEFORMITY. GLASS ATTACHED TO
MOUTH. SELF REFILLING.
BLOKE-WRITER SPENDS WHOLE LIFETIME TRYING TO REWRITE ONE
SENTENCE.

I remember choosing the last scenario
& started to write the story
it seemed challenging enough
the narrative was to be more than just about writer’s cramp
but also reflecting the ongoing uncertainty, indecision in our lives
the difficulty lay in deciding on an appropriate sentence to spend a whole life’s dedication in composing

after a couple of agonising weeks
the story hadn’t progressed beyond the opening word,
‘The…
 
there were too many variables,
choices,
responsibilities
one word omitted meant
that others had free reign
another chosen
implied, other, often uncontrollable possibilities
as an artist, I decided I just could not continue with the story
as my integrity was at stake
 
I explained all this in detail to the Editor of Quagmire
when submitting my one word short story ‘The’
 
nothing could have prepared me for the shock & humiliation
which was to come in the form of
a standard rejection slip:
 
Thank you for submitting your work but we cannot use it at this time.
 
in the aftermath of this experience,
I suppose I’ve learnt that people want formula,
a pablum for the mind
they want to hear what they already know
to make them think that their world is going good for them
 
shit, the porn story should have worked!

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