the Introduction from
'The Complete Short
 Works of Daniel Pagoda

The golden rule of writing is to use the time of the readers so that they won’t walk away embittered because their time has been wasted. I’ve tried my damnedest to finish this tale of my youth with some kind of satisfactory meaning behind it, but now the sun is falling outside, and I’m having a tough time pinpointing what I wanted to say about “Swindled.” There’s something about that concept that strikes me funny.

I wasn’t intending this to be an argument against reading the story. I’m sure my tired old words won’t be enough to keep you from stopping mid-sentence and flipping to page 174 to see what all the fuss is about. It won’t bother me if you quit right now to go read it. If I felt truly embarrassed by the story, there were other recourses I could have taken. I could have traveled upstate to the printer where this book was rolled out on an assembly line and personally ripped nine aggravating pages out of each and every copy. But I didn’t.

With so many uncertainties in the interpretation of Art, the only thing I know for certain is that I don’t know the meaning behind anything I write, unless I know there truly is none. I haven’t written anything simply about nothing since “Swindled.” With that meditation, there has to be something here.

You’re welcome to try and find it. And even though I haven’t looked myself, I promise that if you do there won’t be any kind of mean joke waiting for you at the end.