Short version: I was born a baby. Every 365-ish days, I grew one year older and four months wiser. Over the course of this process, I’ve made it my mission to visit weird places and meet weird people in order to assimilate their most interesting traits into my Borg of weirdness. I’ve also acquired some useful knowledge, but who wants to read about that, besides someone looking to hire me?
You should really read the long version.
By now, you are hopefully a little acquainted with my work (if you’re not, go here) and my personality (if not, check out my blog or read the short version of my life above). It and my skills are, truly, the product of assimilation. I’ve traveled around the world and have spoken with a cast of characters so diverse you’d mistake them for a mid-90s TV street gang in the Bronx. I’ve taken what I feel to be the most important lessons, epigrams, anecdotes, and advice and added them to my proverbial toolkit. The result is a unique blend of traits that enable me to understand what people like and why they like it.
The value of this, coupled with my superior command of English, is self-evident. I can create effective stuff that sounds good and communicates well. But there are a lot of people who can do that. I’m not going to pretend I’m the most evocative writer to put pen to paper (well, fingers to keys). But I can offer something valuable that most others can’t.
Ever since my trip to China in 2013—where I witnessed double amputee beggars and tin-roofed slum houses next to sky-high apartment buildings—I have been passionate about reaching people in abject situations. This vision has shaped my growth as a person and a writer, and it informs what I do, where I go, to whom I speak, and from whom I learn.
It’s led me to live in monasteries around the country to learn how the monks reach those on the margins. It’s led me to live on a reservation, to learn just how monstrous the problems Native Americans face truly are and what we can do to help. It’s led me to perform outreach work in a national park, to try to reach the lost souls who stay there. And now, it’s led me to work at a funeral home and a hospice center, where I can apply the skills I’ve learned to people in their most vulnerable hour.
All this sets the backdrop for my most valuable trait: sensitivity. Sensitivity means that when I read your writing, I’m not just looking for errors or poor wording. I’m looking to communicate your voice and your message as effectively as it deserves to be communicated. And when I write content for you, I’m not writing it simply to grab attention. I write content that speaks to people and makes them want to learn as much as they can about what you have to say.
Serving others is at the core of everything I do. Something as simple as a marketing email has the power to do good. My job is to draw that good out and make it accessible to the reader. By doing so, I—and you, by extension—have the power to change lives through our work, no matter how insignificant. This is the vision that drives me. If it speaks to you, please shoot me an email. I would love to work with you.