A few questions I anticipate from readers if I ever have any, and the answers to those questions.

On one hand, I agree with the late author B. Traven, who said, “The creative person should have no other biography than his works.”

On the other hand, who gives a shit what that guy said? He’d never stand a fart’s chance in a tornado if he were trying to get published today. Nobody would put up with his “I refuse to tell you anything about myself” bullshit in this day and age. NOBODY, do you hear me? 

So if I think of any other questions a reader might ask I will add them to this list. I might even post the new questions and their answers on social media.

Because, er. Why not?

Q:  Where do you live?

A:  Snuggled up against the wheezing, wriggly spectre of my mortality safe inside some illusion of my usefulness to the world. Oh. Right. On the Gulf Coast of Alabama.

Q:  Are you on Twitter?

A:  Hardly ever, but I do have an account on the Twitter. I used to think “Twitter” was slang for some type of recreational drug or a new form of asthma medication, and the latter conjecture excited me a great deal.

Q:  Do you have an Instagram account?

A:   The answer to this questions three or four years ago would have been: I’m not usually a fan of eating before noon, but I do enjoy breakfast foods during other mealtimes. These days, however, I’m ashamed to say I have joined the Instagram.

Q:  Do you have a blog?

A: Yes. You can read it. Click here.

Q: Why do you have a blog? 

A:  I have blog because I DON’T have a spouse or a therapist with whom I can share my most important and profound thoughts and observations about life and the world around me. Also, I’ve found that most people don’t like long emails that share my thoughts and observations about life and the world around me in that format. Email is for old people, I’m beginning to understand.

Q: Are you old? Because blogging is for old people, too.

A: If, by “old,” you mean having reached the time in my life when I realize that people born after I started college know next to nothing about anything that is worth knowing and that they seem, if not ignorant of, then at least unbothered by this fact, then yes. Yes, I am old, I suppose. Suffice to say that by the standards of most young people I am so old I might as well be dead. (Read: I was born in 1969.)

Q: Are you so old that you also have a Facebook account?

A: Yes, I am that old. If you think it would be quaint to “Like” my Facebook page, you can. If I actually know you, you can send me a friend request. If you have done me wrong or consider anyone else who has ever done me wrong “fine people,” I’ve probably already blocked you.

Q:  What are you doing when you aren’t writing?

A: Depends. I might be sleeping. Or I might be blogging. Or I might be doing any number of other things besides. Does it really matter? See B. Traven quote at the beginning of this exercise.

Q: What are you doing when you aren’t blogging?

A:  Thinking about my cat; keeping an eye on the elderly; writing long stories that are intricately plotted in my head but that never seem to become novels; and designing employment applications to be filled out by people who will one day make up the army of servants and sycophants around me when I finally come into some money.