Pretentiousness...if that's a word

So, I think I write with a pretentious style. I think my style comes from, well, me. I've been reading Donald Miller lately. His style is very postmodern: self-aware, straightforward, honest, conversational, somewhat raw. I like it, but it's not me...I think I'd like it to be me, though. Still, I have this inner drive to create things that are strategic, well-thought out, insightful, I don't really know how to express it... And not that Don doesn't write like that...a conversational writing style doesn't appeal to me unless it's strategically conversational. I want to be C.S. Lewis, George MacDonald, TS Eliot, Katherine Anne Porter, and and Ralph Waldo Emerson all wrapped up into one. They are my literary standard.

Not that I understand that standard, but neither do I understand God. I don't think he's my literary ideal, although perhaps I'm a little off there. He wrote the Bible, gave humankind the creative ability to come up with some pretty sweet literary forms, and made sure his book contained a variety of some pretty neat literary forms and construction. Some (I don't know who, but my MBC profs told me they and other people thought so over and over again) claim that the Bible is the best (or at least some of) literature ever written. Again, I'm in no place to give an opinion on what "the best literature" is, but it seems more complex than I can understand. So, I suppose I want to write like the biblical authors did, but my writing doesn't look like theirs. How can I try to aim so closely at something only to end up pulling arrows out of my feet? Ugh.

I suppose that's what happens when your real target is you...you hit it every time. But damn if it doesn't hurt. Bill keeps telling me to keep my eyes on Christ, but even now, I'm pulling a muscle patting myself on the back for the sweet metaphor/analogy/whatever I just made. Ugh.

I'm thinking about trying to write more, but I'm pretty much out of words, so, in an un-Ken-like fashion