The Journal of Failure Vol.1
“In this the most dubious of worlds everything happens dubiously”
A Brief Introduction
Even without wading too deeply into the sea of affirmational pablum that populates the internet, particularly that which can be found on the self-publishing platforms; the trend of formatting one’s topic of choice, as bullet-pointed, postings of Panglossian optimism is pervasive; and appears to be the prevailing method of acquiring the necessary number of readers, to give voice to one’s literary aspirations and possibly gain oneself a few extra bucks.
Most stories of failure that come over the transom, tend towards those of uplift, emphasizing the overcoming of obstacles, the bucking of stiff odds and dusting oneself off to arrive at a place of hard won achievement; defeat arising to amplify victory, mutating into validation. A banner of triumphant determination waved in the face of sacrifice to have come through the other side all the better for it. In contrast, stories of failure void of a countervailing victory narrative are rendered quietly. The soundtrack of defeat lacks orchestral accompaniment. There is no moment of grand uplift, rather it’s a persistent grind that inexorably wears smooth.
Over the past ten years I have been wrong a lot, and wronged nearly as much; with the occurrences manifesting themselves in ways both mundane and spectacular. The stories, when recounted either voluntarily or compelled, have been told to a predictable audience of family members, friends, lawyers, probation officers, therapists, doctors, and support groups. The repetition of the telling, even to those who have, seemingly, had my best interests at heart, have rendered the story rote, almost meaningless, like the sound of a word repeated over and over again. Lost to the redundancy of the telling: are the life altering tragedy, the petty ridiculousness, and the heartbreaking collateral damage experienced by those closest to me. Those are the ones carried within me. The ones requiring upkeep and an active schedule that preoccupies my conscious mind. The ones that hibernate only rarely, providing occasional moments of respite. I hold no illusion that attempting to exorcize this collection of failure stories, kept loosely at bay in the haunted-house section of my psyche, would be an attainable feat.
As I stake my claim on a small corner of the self-publishing world I have thoughts about the directions it may lead. I don’t foresee telling it in a particular order. With that in mind, I’ll try to provide some context here and there, so you can maintain your bearings and follow along with the studio audience. Regardless where or when you may arrive in the narrative, I’ll do my best to keep you in the loop and minimize the punchy, bullet-pointed aphorisms.
Grateful for your work!!