A question before I start – is there anything more nauseating than writing about yourself, for yourself, on your own website? Hmmm. If there is I can not think of it. As I embark upon this odious task, I realize that the ‘about’ blurb on a writer’s website is effectively a ‘selfie’ in word form; my chosen mix of words a filter that will encourage you to like me more or less. Having tinkered with various approaches to this chore for longer than I care to admit, because you should know that of all the lies and half-truths that you will read about me below, I am first and foremost a procrastinator of the highest order, I have arrived at this particular description of myself, using a word filter I call ‘veracity’.
I have done a great many things in my life, most of which I can not list below for fear that their mention might result in legal proceedings being drawn up against me, some gruesome revenge being sort (an act likely to miss it’s mark but leave me horribly disfigured), or result in an immediate change to my domestic circumstances. I should point out that whilst it is not in my interests to highlight this roll call of dishonor, I regard some of them as great achievements for which I am secretly proud.
Of those things that I would venture to call myself, and are of sufficient interest (I think) that they will prevent you, at least for a time, from rolling your eyes and closing down my website – deeds that if uncovered would wound me deeply, for I am an odd mix of sensitivity and poltroonery, the ones that I think will impress you the most are adventurer, mountain climber, raconteur, Philomath, autodidact, drug advocate, libertarian, psychonaut, neurotic, and of course writer, but I would submit that these last two are probably one and the same.
I am above all things, a writer. An assembler of words. A landscape gardener of the written form, humbly bending to the will of editors and sub-editors, seeking out their commissions as hungrily as a homeless person fossicks through wheelie bins behind a restaurant, accepting their minuscule word rates so that my work, channeled through me from some higher power, might appear in their publications, and in it’s unveiling, lift their readership out of the malaise of modern day living. It is a dirty, miserable thing, this freelance writing, but I have burnt all my bridges and it is the only thing left for me.
On the question of what I write about, I am a generalist in nature, devoid of any specialty other than those subjects to which my dilettantism has lead me, leaving me to hack through the maddening crowd of popular writers, straining like a sled dog to have my voice heard and my words read above the howl of others. I lust after the juiciest commissions; feature articles, personality profiles, opinion pieces; all of them shiny baubles to a writer such as I, but in truth, and for the right word rate, I’ll dunk my plume for whatever you care to give me.
So whether you’re an editor arriving at this site with a fistful of dollars, or a person who, in subscribing to my blog, simply wishes to be reminded that there are others out there with greater troubles than their own, I humbly welcome you, and bid you to take a seat at my table. Together we shall explore what it is to be human.