One of this Worlds Janitors

My name is Pablo Meccano I’m 46, a writer, sculptor and designer. Having hung up my toolbox for now, I tend towards writing.

I come in many disguises dependant on how I feel, above is a gallery of me in different states of recognisability. My wife Katerina knows who I am. She’s the beautiful one.

Sonny is my dog, he has a big nose

I was born dyslexic, I still have trouble with smelling now. It crushed me as a child and later on as a teen, it crushed me in my early adult life although thankfully making and designing took over. Designing allowed me to use capital letters and minimal wording to describe my designs, the visual and material reality requiring much less written fluff, generally.

Throughout the early years however, although crushed I still felt. Words periodically fell from my mouth, they found space upon the page; void of commas, grammar, rules! I was writing poetry, at times on mass, often deep and searching, rarely making sense but always, always making me feel better.

As time went by, with the help of spellcheck and a growing business that required my written input, I broke through a confidence barrier and put my mind to correcting my dyslexia utilising poetry and a need to earn a crust as my tools. I wrote letters to private and corporate clients and grew a business inclusive of its complete marketing requirements. I learned where school could not teach, I excelled where I expected to fail and created a successful business.

Having handed over that business I have found the need to express myself and listen. Listening is filling me up, and having found friends in words, I now express freely.

 

I’ve always loved Science Fiction, I philosophise and pontificate, poke and prod at story, love to lift a leaf from dewy ground with a word upon the wind and will most certainly cry when words move me.

Words for me still form themselves in ways that require a spellcheck and these days that spell check is me but with the gratefully received help of the odd editor. When my life goes together in an order that makes me grimace I now, through the tools that writing and coaching has given me, I can correct it alone although with the help of my life editing friends.

I’ve been writing on and off since I was around eighteen, however, with conviction, since 2016. I think my average is around a thousand words a day now, most of which are still under my personal scrutiny, under lock and key, in first draft novel form.

I love Science Fiction of most sub genres, fiction of any type has a chance. I’m happy reading non-fiction too, although mostly to aid my own tuition. Essentially, I love writing Sci-Fi-cyberpunk and even space opera, it allows escape, to space, beyond ( buzz lightyear moment). Mostly it allows me a healthy space in which to contextualise my ideas on how we might live, how me may react, how, perhaps, we can make a better world in the face of unrelenting nonsense. I wanted to say bollocks but didn’t.

My favourite books

Robert M Persig- Zen and the art of motorcycle maintenance, followed by the lessor known-Lilla. his second book is a hard read yet stunning and important in my eyes.

I read this when I was in my thirties and it had a lasting impact. I had known depression and hardship, had already spent my time in ashes. This first book is a harrowing yet enlightening tale of a journey made by a father and his son on motorbike along with friends of the father. The father is in the throes of a slow and crippling mental breakdown and is himself narrating a story of his earlier alternate consciousness, this other, named by himself as Phaedrus.The story is told almost as a cantation (a singing) that invites the reader to live in the depths of the writer’s characters and feel the depth of Phaedrus’s enquiry into the meaning of quality.

These are stories about our own and our society’s mental health. But I love them because they lean toward solution, in self and it is in the round.

 

I’m looking to complete my ever-growing list of novels that are all in different states of completion, get them out there, you know, like doves. Or is it racing pigeons; destined to hang about, outside of second-hand bookstores; tagged but not going home.

Alongside this and probably more important in the long run, I have a need to bring my ideas on continued tribal connection to life. This is essentially a study that I hope may show that tribal connections are still present in our western societies, that we are living in littered and devolved tribal groups and that in realigning them (utilising a new understanding and modern technology) we me may be able to form sustainable communities that are both manageable, healthy and give us the connection to each other under a safe umbrella that our modern society is crying out for.