Hello peeps. Today I have for you an article written by the late Herman Sheckle. Sheckle, who died in 2011, was a longtime friend of mine. He was… well, I’ll let him tell you who he was.
Oh, one more thing. I should warn you that not everything Herman says is true. Remember, he was a writer of stories, and everything he wrote falls under the umbrella of fiction. But, like all good fiction, there was some truth to his lies. You simply have to be in possession of the decoder.
“Who am I?”
by Herman Sheckle (1980-2011)
Only those closest to me know that I am a writer. My estranged wife and children, neither of which claims me as family, would tell you that my being a writer is all they ever knew about me. I am a rather prolific author, in my own right. That is, if I ever finished anything, I would be. To date I have failed to finish over a thousand short stories, eighty-nine novellas, and twenty-six novels. Some of these are mere lines from being complete, while others I had barely begun, having quit them after the opening sentence, or, as is the case with four of these manuscripts, after the first word. When I am dead, perhaps these manuscripts will see the light of day. Although I have my doubts anyone will care enough to compile them.
I recently read an article about how business mogul Donald Trump is planning to run for president, hoping to oust Barack Obama from the white house in 2012. That’s just silly. But I bring it up because I would like to make a promise to all who might one day read this:
I do so solemnly swear that the day Donald Trump becomes president of these United States is the day I will publish my unfinished manuscripts. And, on this day of flying pigs fly and ice cubes in Hell, I will reveal myself to the world as The Illuminati. No, not a member of the secret organization, but the whole thing. I am The Illuminati.
I should say that my unfinished work is quite safe. However, should disaster ever strike America under the guise of a manatee in a toupée, I’ve left this blog post and my entire writerly output (a memory stick I have christened HMS Trunk; my full name is Herman Montgomery Sheckle) with my good friend and colleague author [name redacted], aka Edward Lorn, aka Scott Wax, aka Luv Lorn, aka [final three names redacted by request of [name redacted]]. If people only knew all the names my friend writes under, there would be more than a handful of angry souls in the world. It is so very hard to promise to stay away from one writer’s output when one does not know all the aliases of said author. Time and again, I’ve seen readers swear to never read [name redacted] again, or perhaps “I will NEVER give Scott Wax another penny!” only to see them read and enjoy [name redacted]‘s work. I do chuckle when this happens. Just a little. Okay. A lot. I chuckle a lot.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. To date, the latest version of my friend [Edward Lorn] hasn’t even published his first novel. Something he calls Bay’s End. I do think the title is a typo, but having not read the book I can only guess. That apostrophe is suspect, though… I’m sure leagues of readers will love the novel, it being a coming-of-age tale. Those kind of books sell buckets. I have three unfinished coming-of-age novels inside HMS Trunk. One of them is a paragraph from completion…
Where was I? Oh, yes! Who am I? Who am I, indeed? I am a writer you’ve never heard of and likely never will hear of. If HMS Trunk didn’t exist, one might assume that I am a figment of [name redacted]‘s imagination. But I am not. I exist… Or, on the off chance that I am dead when this article is finally illuminated in the light of day, I did exist. I was a real boy, as one is
[article ends here]
As with all of Herman’s manuscripts, this piece was left unfinished. This and more will be available inside The Complete Incomplete Fairytales of Herman Sheckle. The book does not have a release date as of yet, but as soon as I finish compiling twenty years’ worth of Herman’s output and arranging the pieces in chronological order, I’ll post a date you can expect the novel… or collection… or whatever I end up calling it.
I’m finding that I love working on this. So many memories have been brought back to the surface: times Herman and I spent shooting the shit on my porch after his wife kicked him out, trips we took, unfinished collaborations… The list goes on.
Finally I would like to say to those out there fuming about the possibility of my having used other names throughout the years, that section from Herman is most definitely fiction. Bay’s End is my debut novel, and I’ve only ever written under the name Edward Lorn. If you don’t believe me, Google the other names Herman mentions. I only redacted the names I did because they were code for certain unseemly websites. Meaning, if you googled them, you would be taken to something nasty akin to Two Girls, One Cup, or One Man, One Jar, or image results for blue waffles, and so forth. In other words, I’m not hiding anything of import. Promise.
See you tomorrow,
Pic of the Day