When people ask me ... no, make that, if ever people deign to ask me what kind of a writer I am, I'll start by telling them a few things I won't tell them. For instance, I won't tell them I'm a good writer. I won't tell them I'm a powerful writer. I most definitely won't tell them I'm a logical writer. What I might try and get by them is that I'm an unconventional writer.
Yawn. I suppose anyone with pretensions of being some kind of a wordsmith, would like to think of herself as, if nothing else, at least, unconventional. In that case, am I just a boilerplate slinger? After all, if every pen-pusher is in one way or another unorthodox, doesn't that make a writer who's not much more than different, same? It most ineluctably does. Yaysoos! (There, I even managed to, for a change, use words I just discovered the meanings of, properly. I think.)
In my brighter moments, I like to believe there's more to my writerly posing than just ... well, posing and atypicalness. When I look at my samples of writing, admittedly, with some trepidation, I see in them an Ali-esque quality. A jab here. Followed by a quick right hook. A step back to take stock. A sway to one side for a different point of view. A comeback from the other to restore equilibrium. A disarming moment of seeming weakness. A devastating counter. And much braggadocio.
Hold on a minute, did I just call myself the Ali of writers? Looks like I did. I guess all those punches I've taken on my head, in the gut and to heart during my years in advertising have ... well, gone to my head.
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