Ever so often, I am taken to task (usually) by a new reader who takes it upon himself to critique my writing. Mind you, he avoids actually discussing the point of the discourse he refers to. Apparently, whether of not I have made my point or, indeed, any sense at all is outside the scope of his contentiousness. No, these neophytes to my rantings and ravings are not challenging my logic but my word selection. These distraught readers declare, usually in misspellings and syntactical butchery unworthy of even a 3^rd grade composition, that "I use too many arcane and archaic words!" Please be aware that the comments they proffer would never actually include words such as "arcane" or "archaic" - they wouldn’t know what they meant if they had Noah Webster, himself, reanimated and looking over their shoulders. But, in their Sunday-best one- or, at best, two-syllable words, they (barely) get across the point that my writing is too difficult for the "average reader" to understand.

What they don’t seem to grasp is that is exactly the audience I choose to avoid. I am, lately, of the opinion that too much in America is geared for the "average American." And, logically, when movies, books and even web logs are written for the "average American," much is lost. Movies lose the chance to stimulate the imagination of their viewers with new and, concurrently, complex plot lines that require the viewer to use areas of their minds outside their visual or auditory cortexes. A loud Surround Sound experience and pretty cinematography do not a good movie make. But, then, that is just my opinion.

Books and web logs abandon hope of actually teaching their readers new thoughts and methods of expressing them. When movies are so predictable that you can make a unhurried visit the snack stand or, if seen at home, leave them running out of ear shot, eat supper and come back to them and not even feel you have missed anything cogent to the plot, these are movies geared for the "average American." If you can read a book or web log without having to stop reading, every now and again, and reflect on what you just read or if you can read the entire manuscript without a dictionary or, better still, an encyclopedia handy, they were written with the "average American" in mind.

I am lately convinced that the concept of the "average American" has effected the content of visual arts and composition in a palpably adverse way. It is part and parcel of what many - including this writer - have labeled the "dummying down" of America. It is my belief that this onerous trend should be resisted at all costs. While I concede that if you are writing for the National Enquirer or Star tabloids or People Magazine, there are overriding economic reasons for dumbing down your prose. After all, your paying audience is, primarily, 18-25 year olds that have, by definition, had an inadequate education at the hands of inept teachers in ill-equipped and poorly run schools. Or, conversely, they are older readers who, having long abandoned any love they might once have had for literature (say, in the 6^th grade when they read Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys), haven’t read anything between hard covers in 20 or more years. In order to maintain a sufficient readership to cover the costs of your exclusive first pictures of TomKat’s alien child or Branjelina’s latest import, you have to write to be read by the "average American." That pursuit I leave to those who see nothing inherently wrong in writing nothing but strings monosyllabic words. Clearly, "Dick chased Spot. See Dick chase Spot" is challenge enough for these subscribers. Happily, I leave this sort of composition to the experts who know, if not respect, their fans.

I elect to go in other directions. The style (if you can call it that) I adopt serves a two-fold purpose. First, by using, at times, the least used word, I hope to stimulate the reader to look them up and acquaint themselves with some of the forgotten "gems" of the English language. Lord knows, they are dropping out of common parlance faster than rocks from the heavens during Leonids meteor shower. The second purpose is that my composition gives me the chance to expand my own paltry (but actively growing) vocabulary. I enjoy learning new words and phrases and how they might be effectively used to express some of the often-bizarre but, at least to me, entertaining subjects about which I write.

At this point, my critics (and they are multitudinous) might argue that I am merely a bourgeois pseudo-elitist trying to impress my half-dozen or so readers with big words and little ideas. To this, I can only answer: I hope not. They, these bitter, angry word-starved "averages" likewise might contend that I am simply a haughty world-be-writer who follows the old dictum: "If you can’t dazzle them with your brilliance, at least dazzle you with my bull@#$&"? To this challenge, I can only reply: I pray not.

My feeling is that there is quite enough literary gruel from which the "average American" can gain sustenance. If they actually ever do have the urge to read something - perhaps while executing their morning evacuation or to lull themselves to sleep in their motel room after a jaunty day at Dolly Wood - surely, they can count on something written to entertain (not to say, educate) them within easy reach. They are sure to chuckle, snicker and feel "enlightened" after diligently plowing through a page or two of the countless tabloids or, perhaps, the week-old Sunday comics. I begrudge them not in this desperate grab for "entertainment."

But, I aim at some loftier purpose. When one reads the works of the rare contemporary author - for example, Thomas Sowell - who persists in eschewing the simpler words or the trite metaphor, I do not feel "dissed" or "put down" or assume him vainglorious because he uses polysyllabic words to express his ideas. Instead, I feel honored that this skilled wordsmith is confident enough in his readers to challenge them to seek the meaning of his words and allusions, even if it means dusting off a dictionary or, occasionally, Googling an arcane historical reference. I am interested in enough in the book to invest the requisite extra effort to ferret out where Dr. Sowell wishes to lead me. It’s worth the extra labor.

So, unabashedly, I will continue to follow my own muse. Allow me to reassure you: I do not write to impress anyone. I write, simply enough, because I consider the endeavor an art form that challenges my mind and, more specifically, tweaks whatever creativity I may claim. Since I can’t paint, sing or compose music, it is my only hope of expressing myself. If the average visitor finds my writing obscure and not a little boring, then, so be it. My arrow is aimed at a higher target: the one in a hundred (thousand?) visitor that actually seeks to be challenged. If I can approach that sublime bull’s eye, I will be satisfied.

Mark Twain once remarked: "The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and the lightning bug." For writers - both skilled and amateur - that is a worthwhile motto.