I've always wanted a manifesto. It sounds so good, so revolutionary. The sort of thing that would allow you to die in peace, since obviously you had stood for something.
Sadly, I've conducted an extensive review of my curriculum vitae and I have little to fuel a proper manifesto. I don't think most manifesto authors are as content as I am to sit on the couch for hours wondering why my baby toe never fully developed, or who is to blame for the current propagation of frisée (aka curly endive) in ready-made salad mixes. Frisée is a useless and unwieldy leaf.
Still, a manifesto I shall have, though it may not be as glorious as the one of my dreams.
Manifesto
(Which means: publicly declaring the intentions, motives, views, of its issuer.)
Yikes.
Okay. Let’s start with issuer.
Kiley Turner: Vancouver resident. Marketing writer, co-partner of a great little creative strategy firm (Turner-Riggs), newlywed, chowhound, lover of culture of all brows—especially middle—trained in film criticism and publishing-related initiatives.
Intentions: To put my thoughts into writing and inflict them on unsuspecting passers-by.
Motives: Somewhat ulterior, I’m sure. But basically, to stop thinking about writing and just do it.
Views: Ambivalent about most things. Extreme about the rest.
That’ll do for now.
