They call me The Talent. When we first assigned nicknames (two years ago at the retreat in Lake Geneva? 18 months ago at the conference in Waikiki? three minutes ago when I first thought of this bio?), I think the group was trying to honor both the brutal beauty of my prose and the startling humility with which I approached my Gift from the Muse. Unlike the others in the group, Hair Lip, The Clap, Mosquito Nuts, Flaccid, and Donkey Breath, I carry the unique burden of being a genius. While I have composed two classic novels of lasting beauty, I have yet to be offered the collective adoration that is my due. My fellow writers, recognizing this injustice, began to make amends by bestowing my small appellation. It is because of their love for me.
I am the heart of the group. And the mind. I am also the left arm and the right thigh muscle.
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