Why do people tell stories? Why do people listen? Why are some great writers never read? Why are shitty writers (who tell shitty stories about shitty people doing shitty things) read so much? Why do millions of people not read at all? Why aren't we doing more to change that?
Why can't people handle the truth? Why do we spend so much (too much) time on lies? Why can't we say what we mean and do what we say? Why isn't love always unconditional? Why aren't people staying married, anymore? And why the fuck is Danny Bonaduce still on tv?
Some questions have answers. Some obviously don't. And sometimes the answer to one question leads to another question and the answer to that one leads to another one and eventually it's a book.
So, I wrote a book. I sold it to a small publisher in January 2006, started a second book in February, then joined MySpace in June to promote the first book by telling people about the second one. That was the plan, anyway. But something happened on the way to the bookshelf. The publisher delayed production. Then I got sick. So I started blogging, because short pieces were all I could work on and I had to work on something to justify sitting home every day. All of a sudden, I looked up and it was December. New Year's Eve was a week away, and I sat working on a blog post, thinking, "Why am I here?"
Why AM I here?
After a good bit of thinking, I concluded that I'm here to entertain you. Not with pictures or music or video clips, but with words. Just words. Based on your responses, I seem to be doing okay. And I'm enjoying the hell out of it. But, all cards on the table, I'm expecting something in return. Right now, I'm here telling stories, reading stories, and meeting fantastic people. But stringing words together is more than a hobby for me. Someday (soon?), I hope to be enjoying unreasonable dividends for the ungodly number of hours I've put into my novels and short stories. So, if you like what you read here, *please* tell a friend. I do my best to do the same for you.
In return, I will continue to entertain. As often as I can. For as long as I can. I will also make the following promises to you, so your friends won't kick your ass for referring them:
I, Dawn Scovill, being of (mostly) sound mind and body, solemnly promise to…
Use the fuck-word as often as good taste allows. The reason I make people click that "Yes, I'm willing to continue" button in the first place was so I could say things I shouldn't say in front of kids and relatives. I'd be doing readers a disservice if I didn't throw in a fuck or two.
Never say anything I don't mean. I don't throw words around. (Think about it.) If I tell you I love you I'm not blowing smoke up your ass.
Speak the truth. My novels are fiction, but, unless noted otherwise, the blog is all me.
Never (well, maybe never, and the links at right shouldn't count) ask you straight up to "buy my book". If I do my job here, my words will say it for me.
Do my damnedest to be somebody someday, so you won't think any of this has been a waste of your time.
Why am I here? Why are you here? Why are your friends here? Why are any of us here? And why IS Danny Bonaduce still on tv?
Let's just sit back and enjoy the ride. :)