I am a walking dichotomy.
I profess a belief in God, yet I sometimes take his name in vain. I self-identify as a Christian, but I frequently break nearly every rule in Christian doctrine. I want to be loved in a way that reeks of desperation, yet I revel in shocking you with a coarse comment, and I think doing so is amusing. I want you to heap fawning praise upon me as you read my work, yet I go out of my way to make sure you cringe at least once in everything I write. I am filled with self loathing, yet—or perhaps because of that fact—I have the most fragile ego of any person in all of Humankind. Your words can shatter the frail veneer of my sense of self, yet I invite your scolding reprimand with my words.
I’ve always known this about myself, but I never really reflected on it consciously until a moment ago as I considered a recent conversation with one of my publicists, Danielle Hartman. That’s right; I have two publicists. My inclination toward polygamy is not limited to a marital and social bent. I need two publicists just like I need at least two of everything else in my life. Yes; I need two. One simply isn’t enough, and so I also hired Phillis Benson who has been educating me in the art of proper Web design, and social media, and I need her because I hate social media, FaceBook especially. Continue reading
rk I’m often asked the question “What’s your greatest strength?” I always reply “My writing. If you ask about me, anyone who knows me will invariably say ‘He’s a good writer; wears a lot of black.’” 
