Dona E. Bowens

I’m plotting. Actually, I’m always plotting. This time I’m plotting how I can bow out on the conventional…again. What do I mean by “conventional?” Basically work. I don’t want to work anymore for anyone besides myself. Conventional wisdom says we have to work, punch the clock, answer to the man in order to have a subsistence life. I’m saying nope, or I’d like to say nope. And thus the plotting.

The way I see it, I have 3 avenues to free myself from working:

1. Find a wealthy man or woman who is so enamored with The Dona Experience that they decide to support my existence until the end of time. But then I’ll be at the mercy of the wealthy man or woman. Golden handcuffs are still handcuffs at the end of the day.
2. I could hit the lottery. But first you gotta play the lottery and playing the lottery has never been part of my repertoire. Besides, I’d have a better chance of stumbling across that wealthy man or woman before I won the Powerball. (See entry #1)
3. Sell my TV series. But how? How does anything get made anymore? (If you want to read it, let me know and I’ll send you a copy. Otherwise it’s collecting proverbial dust on my hard drive.) I don’t want to pay dues working on other people’s projects (been there, done with that), I don’t have time to blindly stumble along hoping my script falls into the right hands at the precise opportune moment. That’s like hoping to hit the lottery. (See entry #2)

To hell with it. I have a copyright on the thing, you want to read it and tell me to give up my dream, here it is. But I know the shit is funny and I know it’s a story that hasn’t been told from the prospective that I’m telling it. So read it, if you dare, and tell me what your two cents are. I can take it.

****The picture heading this post are the typical paving stones of Barcelona.