Who is Dahlia?

Dahlia is a loose theme to hold this blog together. She would say otherwise, of course. She'd say that she's a whip-smart blonde with a porcelain doll's face and the body of a lingerie model. She'd say she knows enough dirty little secrets to sink empires, even if those empires happen to be fictional products of a certain writer's mind.

Or maybe she'd say that this introduction is dragging and it should be story time by now.

I, however, feel that an explanation is necessary. Dahlia can go sit in her mini-skirt and four-inch-heels with her I swear I'm classy silk blouse and pearls whilst I continue.

This blog is all fiction. I love the characters as though they were real people. In truth, they're parts of me, who I've wanted to be, what I've avoided, secret truths that even I haven't figured out. It all sounds very dramatic, I know, but life is dramatic, and these stories are about life. They're little individual snapshots of life, and perhaps they'll tell a story, and perhaps they won't. Perhaps they'll be so out of any kind of chronological order that you won't even know what's going on.

My characters aren't written with a beginning, a middle, and an end, however much their stories might be. My characters develop like photos, like good drawings. Maybe you'll see the dark spots first, but trust me, they can get darker. Maybe you'll see bits and pieces peeking through the lighter areas. Maybe they'll take shape, leading you to believe that you know what it is you're seeing. And maybe you do see it, but I don't always.

Dahlia's impatient.

Her quill is tapping a staccato beat on the edge of the ink bottle, and she's ready to go.

But who is Dahlia?

I'll share a little secret: She's me. If I were a whip-smart blonde with a doll-face and a short skirt.

Now, what shall we write?