by John Ellis
I get paid to write, but I’m under no delusion that I am a great writer. Frequently, I’ll read something on the New Yorker, in the Wall Street Journal, or on The Atlantic, not to mention the many books at my fingertips, and think, “That’s beautiful; I could’ve never written that.” And I’m ok with it. Really, I am. I dry my tears with the deposit slips I get from the bank after cashing my paycheck.
My ok-ness with my mediocrity as a writer doesn’t mean that I don’t love and value great writing, though. And I’m always thankful whenever anyone points me in the direction of a beautiful writer who knows how to use words in ways that I don’t. Just today, on Twitter, Charles Murray, the much loved and hated social scientist and writer, introduced me to a writer named Sami Kadah.