from a while ago,
before blogspot decided to jam me up…
“Write
what
you know about…”
Mark
Twain
Sound
advice…? At one time, perhaps. The unfortunate part of this epitaph, most
people know nothing or of nothing that would interest others—especially
readers. We are a society of shallow gatherers and regurgitates, living
vicariously through electronic media, sitting on our couch-fat-asses vainly
attempting to mimic, absorb the energy of the real, the few doers and adventurers.
Fooling ourselves into thinking, we are accomplishing something…
I
am not a blues person. I simply have
not had to suffer what it takes to be truly “blues.” Yes, I’ve been to Billie
Pearl’s, wailed and sung along with B.B King, John Lee Hooker, Janis the Pearl and the greats, gone without
meals, ridden the rails, slept in stinking eau d’ nil trash bins out of the
rain and pinch of the police, but I haven’t achieved that status of being able
to say “I know the blues…” and, besides, I don’t play a guit’box or harmonica
worth a damn.
Sipping
a little Old No. 7, kicking back and watching segments of PBS’s slick
money-drive promos: seeing the true “blues men”. Astounding. Moving. Men
walking the walk. And then one has to sit though the technical guitar artistry
of Joe Bonammasa—man can that dude wail an axe. His strummin’, goosebump city. But
he’s a mimic, he’s got no soul no real blues. Too white- bread, enabled, over-produced,
doughboy soft, no real-deal hard-times history behind him, wouldn’t say “shit”
if he had a mouthful. Can you dig what I’m sayin’?
So,
if you’re going to write authentically, pick something you truly know of. A
readership can sniff assumed persona faster than a weasel smells blood. It may
be a narrow spectrum of writing themes for the time being. Don’t worry. Go out and
live life a little. Go hit the road (even in a WindStream with aunt Margie and
the cat if you must.) Take some day labor jobs down on the dock. Hang out in
the park with the old checker players and winos (you don’t have to brown-bag it
with them) if that’s your thrust in writing. Chillin’ a few hours in the bus or
train station will be a note taking eye-opener. A few days in nature’s grandeur
swatting mosquitoes and dodging asshole hunters—absorbing what’s left of the
special essence of the forest. Observe. Be purposeful. Let essence soak all the
way in. Keep lots of journal notes—time’s a comin’ you will use’em. Promise.
You may find out, your own too-shallow today
story, truly isn’t that interesting. But wait. There’s a whole other world out
there that needs its story told too. Your personal story and reservoir will grow
full with time…
Patience,
grasshopper.
Write
well, Max tdc