Ask San Antonio Express-News columnist Roddy Stinson the same question. "I really feel providentially called to do what I do," he answers with a conviction one expects to come from a pulpit, not from behind the desk of a newspaperman.

If there is such a thing as an average newspaper man, Stinson is his opposite.

Oh, all the props are there: the cluttered desk, the small office in the partitioned room, the ringing phone, the woman bringing in a stack of mail.

A few minutes of listening as he paints pictures of his life and work with his East Texas drawl, however, shows that the props are part of the job, not the man.

He doesn't even consider himself a writer. He was never a reporter, never worked a beat, never broke a story, never "paid his dues" in the traditional ways.

"I'm still looked upon with somewhat jaundiced eyes by the 'real' newspaper people because of that," he says with a laugh. "We have an ongoing battle ‹ mostly good-natured."

So, he's not a writer and he never paid his dues. The obvious question is how did this one-of-a-set-of-twin-sons of a part-time Baptist songleader in Marshall, Texas, get from there to Section A, Page 3 of the Express-News?

Simple.

After 10 years editing magazines, they asked if he wanted the job and he said yes.

That was 23 years ago. With the exceptions of vacations and an occasional sick day, Stinson has written seven columns a week since then. He gets a day off if he writes two on one day.

"Writing is hard work," he says as he reaches into a drawer and fishes out a torn and tattered old dictionary.

"This is my third one." Stinson points to the three Thesauruses on his bookshelf and mentions his limited vocabulary.

Stinson's columns appear to be effortlessly and quickly written.

"Actually," he says, "I've been here from 10 in the morning to 7 at night working on what you're reading. Then I do it again the next day."

The repetition is challenging.

"A columnist can't get in a rut."

Speaking of two of his nationally syndicated contemporaries, Stinson says, though he respects them, he doesn't read them any more. At some point he realized, "I've read this before."

Stinson is determined to keep his column fresh. His method for an "evolving schtick" is found in his philosophy of writing.

"Wait for something to rise to the top and then hit it."

Governors have been favorite targets, as has the Legislature and lately, the "politically correct crowd." He sees himself as an equalizer and takes every opportunity to "level the playing field."

This approach doesn't always win friends, as evidenced by the first message on his answering service from the previous day.

"You sorry little ------," snarled the caller. "The next time I see you on the street I'm gonna' break your ----- neck."

"I write a controversial column," Stinson explains. "I'd like to say that kind of thing just rolls off like water off a duck's back, but it bothers me. For one thing, that guy is obviously crazy and who's to say he won't really do it."

Such is the life of this newspaper man. "To do what I do requires a psyche of steel. It's tough. If I had a dollar for every time I looked up at the ceiling and said, 'God, get me out of her' I would be a wealthy man."

He keeps coming back, though. Ask him why and you'll get a two-part answer. First is what Stinson calls his "Messianic Complex." He believes he's doing what he's supposed to be doing.

Second, he needs a paycheck just like the rest of us. Imagine that!

Are there any other goals or aspirations floating around underneath his silver hair? He'd like to find a small church and, as a volunteer, handle the community outreach program and "sell" that church to the community.

One thing is sure, whatever he does, he'll do with all the fervor and intensity of a man on a mission. After all, that's how he's always done things. . .and it doesn't appear he'll be changing any time soon.

You can do it, too!