Than me, of course.
Assuming, that is, that I wanted my story written in the first place.
I considered throwing a few other names out there: Stephen King because I love his tone and timing; Shakespeare because I love his rhyming; Margaret Weiss because I love her imagination and creativity; and Douglas Adams because I love his comedy.
(Did you see what I did there? None of them would bring the silliness I would bring.)
Some other notable mentions would be George R.R. Martin because he could turn my life into an epic, Mary Stewart because she would find a way to have magic dripping out of every line, and Terry Pratchett once again for the comedy.
As amazing as their write ups of my life would be, and certainly as fun as it would be to have them turn my life into a best seller, a chart topper, a page turner, they don’t know me, they don’t know my life, and no matter how well I describe it to them, and how well they take notes, they will still miss something that only I could bring to the tale: authenticity.
My words may not be as magical, or funny, or creative. My words may not reach as wide of an audience. My words my not grip the reader and drag him into the story as words written by any of the others would have. But, they would be my words, they would be truthful, insightful, real. And, I couldn’t imagine my story being told any other way.
Who would you have write your story if you could? Would you trust it to someone else?