Just because I once locked myself in my office with a copy of the collected stories of Dylan Thomas and entered the Guinness Win a Pub in Ireland Contest 50 times doesn't make me, you know, odd.

        They wanted 50 words or less on The Perfect Pint of Guinness. I used Thomas for inspiration. I went on about ancient green hills and dewy morns. It was outstanding.

        I was stunned I didn't win.

        Now, I'm ready to make amends.

        I entered this new contest.

        I do this a lot. Enter contests. I'm a serial contest entrant.

        I mail the backs of cereal boxes hoping to win Super Bowl tickets, even though I already go to the Super Bowl. I go to Homearama with a roll of return address labels for all the drawings.

        (Note to solicitors: Stop. I don't need siding or windows. I just wanted to win the trip.)

        I never win anything.

        Even when I should.

        Like now.

        “There is more to you than meets the eye,” began the newest contest entry.

        Yes, there is!

        “In 250 words or less, tell us who you are, what you do for a living and what you live to do.”

        Do that, and win a week on Maui at a writer's conference. “Experience the art and craft of writing far from the distractions of everyday life, with your own personal writing outfitters.”

        Writing outfitters?

        “Balmy evenings are yours to write — on the beach or at the pool,” says the contest entry. “Live the writer's life.”

        All praise the writer's life.

        You could wonder why, if the writer's life is lived poolside, tapping out best sellers beneath swaying palms, everyone doesn't do it. If writing's as easy as exchanging the (mundane) distractions of everyday life for balmy (tropical) evenings (in paradise), how come Maui doesn't look like Staten Island?

        This is “the writer's life” I know so well. Take away the beach, the pool, the outfitters and the balmy, and keep the distractions.

        I could make up my own contest: Live the sportswriter's life.

        “Amid the newspapers, Coke cans, McDonald's wrappers and cell phones, live your dream of writing 800 words in 20 minutes, on deadline at a basketball game that you didn't see because you were too busy staring at your laptop screen.

        “Experience the thrill of getting through one night in a jammed Olympic press room without someone spilling PowerAde on the shirt that you haven't washed in six weeks.

        “Feel the love when Barry Bonds keeps you waiting at his locker for half an hour then tells you off.”

        Someone get me an outfitter!

        Not that I need one. I will write with a rum drink at my elbow. It will be the color of the sunset. The writing will be moving, brilliant and profound. Hemingway scholars will weep.

        I'll be leaving you soon. Sorry. I'll be on Maui, learning to write great. Or, perhaps, greatly. It will be easy.

        Contact Paul Daugherty at 768-8454; fax: 768-8330.

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