Whatever the absolute hell this means.
As an author, or indeed any kind of personality online who is there to promote themselves or a creation of theirs, you're encouraged to think of your brand identity. How do you sound, look, seem? Does it all hang together in one easily understandable package?
I think my brand identity is that I don't have really have one. I change hairstyles with the seasons. I like dark, awful, soulless horror and fluffy comedy. I like short pink skirts and bubblegum coloured hair and silver and goth and gold and bohemian and sunshine and snow and when autumnal darkness begins to fall over us all. I love beaches and bikinis and seawater, and forests and ice. I like Cronenberg and Clueless, Mean Girls and Michael Haneke, American Psycho, Vin Diesel, Van Damme, Britney Spears and Type O Negative. I like plastic glittery jewellery and rings that seem like they've been hewn from rock.
Some days I look like I'm shooting for an ensemble that sort of screams 'Akira Desert Nomad Biker', others like I just stepped off the set of Mad Men. People have accused me of looking really damn French at times, which are probably the days I wear understated outfits and Breton stripes.
I've toyed with sticking to just one thing. Wearing a uniform, almost, something that purely identifies me - especially to events, where I know I'm appearing before potential fans. Neil Gaiman does this wonderfully. The man is instantly recognisable. If he wore a colour other than black there'd be a riot.
But it's not me. I suppose it's no strange thing for me to say that the other one of my two heartfelt childhood ambitions was to be an actor. Actors want to inhabit others. Actors want to be everything. Perhaps artists of any stripe are curious, eternally curious. Once your curiosity goes, what do you have left? Just a collection of routines, until you die.
If a person could have a strapline, a one-sentence-sums-up-your-existence, mine would be this:
I remember this and it saves me every day.