Liar, liar, pants on fire! When I was a kid, that’s what we used to chant when someone told a fib.
That’s what you must be thinkin’ about Becky and me. We claim that our writing styles are so similar that after a while even we can’t tell who wrote which scene in our story.
But our blogs are nothing alike. I write like I’d be talking to you, face to face. I’m far from eloquent. Forty-one years in the construction trades kinda steers your speech in a different direction from someone in a corporate conference room. I lean toward plain talk bordering on redneck. It’s too late for me to pretend to be smart.
Now Becky—she is smart! That girl’s got smarts, a corporate job, and a couple of college degrees to boot. The degrees don’t impress me at all—I’ve known plenty of educated idiots—but she truly is smart, and it shows in her blogs. They’re far different and a hell of a lot better than mine, if you’re looking for intelligence, and I’m assuming you would. Becky’s smart, and I’m just a smart ass. Sometimes she gets carried away and her “egg-head” side shows, or she comes across too corporate (gag me with a spoon), but in our story, she’s different.
So… how can we be such different people and write our blogs so differently, yet the scenes in our story come out so much alike?
I’ve come full circle again, and usually when someone talks in circles it’s because they’re hiding something, or they don’t know what the hell they’re talkin’ about. Well… it beats the shit out of me. I don’t know the answer. Let’s ask the brainiac.
Well, Becky, how about it?