A: This is hard.
Q: Why is making a bio so hard for you?
A: Because it's like talking. I don't like to talk; I like to write.
Q: But people want to know about authors. Reading a book requires a lot of effort.
A: Writing one ain't exactly playtime.
Q: That's better. Go ahead, tell us more. Did you have a pleasant childhood?
A: Ask my dog; he was there.
Q: Your dog is stuffed. He's not a real dog.
A: He's more real than you are. You can’t even ask a good question.
Q: Here’s one: Why should people read your books?
A: Because my puppy will be sad if they don’t.
Q: We need to get serious here. How many novels have you written?
Q: I’ll bet your dog can’t count that high. How long have you been writing?
A: I’ll answer if you promise not to kick my dog again (metaphorically).
Q: He wouldn’t feel it—he’s stuffed.
A: If someone kicked the stuffing out of you, I bet you wouldn’t enjoy it.
Q: Would I enjoy it more than reading one of your books? Or would it be equally painful?
A: You’re cruel to dogs AND to authors.
Q: If you answer my last question, I promise to be nice. How many years have you been writing?
Q: That’s pathetic.
A: Why don’t you ask me about my stories?
Q: Stories are for campfires.
A: The basis of history’s greatest novels is the story: the story of nations, cultures, families, individuals. The greatest idea that can be expressed in fiction is story.
Q: Great, so tell me about your characters.
A: Dull and Dumb are not two of my characters, or characteristics.
Q: Do you ever write about animals, stuffed or not?
A: Rescued greyhounds in Heaven Again, tiny ponies in Only The Impassioned, mudfish in Resurrection Flowers, ghosts in An Atmosphere Of Angels.
Q: Ghosts aren’t animals, they’re unsettled spirits. If ghosts continue to read, what will they find in your novels?
A: They will find passion, idea, and spirited characters whose lives are a story. And puppies.
My music is available here:
My animated music videos are here: