So this will explain to you, if you’re still reading by this point, why in my earliest years I wrote hundreds of thousands of words in what is known these days as genre fiction, more specifically, the horror/suspense/thriller genre. With that, how can I ever deem to know who I am as a writer? It’s only recently that I’ve come to realize the answer is simple–I can’t.įair enough, I suppose. There are so many quotients, so many alternating emotions and ideals and dare I say, even identities involved in this life-long affair that at times I cease to understand even who I am.
The passionate affair I’ve had with the English language, or more specifically, the creation of sentences to form an idea, long or short, has and still remains such a relationship. I’ve long since tempered this type of relationship romantically, though it was no small challenge.
Passionate is often a euphemism for, as Norman Mailer once put it, that old standby of the headshrinkers, the love/hate relationship. Those fortunate (or unfortunate depending on your philosophy or mood) people to be born under the sign of Gemini are known for their passionate relationships.
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