There are so many types of writers. As a writer, you try to persuade others. In every case I can imagine, the writer’s goal is to persuade.
A skywriter’s goal is to let everyone know that Harold loves Ingrid.
The poet tries to elicit an emotion.
The spin doctor tries to confound.
The philosopher aims to awe.
The preacher tries to convert.
The scientist tries to teach, and the teacher tries to grow new scientists.
The biographer wants to define a personality, and generate love or hate for that personality.
The autobiographer wants to leave a legend.
The lyricist wants to make the song memorable.
The student essayist wants to be passing and forgettable.
The trendy essayist wants to generate a buzz.
One hundred million tweeters want to be controversial.
A graffiti artist tries to be more street-owner than the real street owners; a graffiti artist wants to be known, but never seen; a graffiti artist tries to be a terrorist with a spray paint can.
The pooch writes his name on a tree using only urine. His goal: to show the other dogs where he’s been. Few animals can write—even fewer persuade me. They might persuade each other though. (So much like the graffiti artist.)
A skywriter’s goal is to sell seats at the circus.
How many more are there?
Xenosthesia.com 