The Man Behind Smoot 



'Lo.  My name is Matt Bowyer, and I am here because I am an alco -- wait, that's not it. Whee. There's the humor. Woohoo. Moving on -- I'm from western Virginia, the Shenandoah Valley to be exact, and we traded living, well anywhere else, for a version of Hell and moved to this run-down town, full of drug addicts, complete morons, and the most dense people you will find this side of California.

As you may have noticed by glancing around here, my nickname, moniker, and semi-official Net handle is Smoot. Almost everyone has asked where I got the nickname. I'll make a short story short. I "stole" a clothing pin from the drama department in my school that had "Smoot" written on it and pinned it to my old, battered trademark trench coat. It's not an interesting, funny story, but I have this feeling that you'll get over it.
Matt Bowyer, Charisma Incarnate. (photo by Evan Cook) Me bein' cool and reading Spin magazine.

See the skinny guy to your left? That would be me. I'm about 5'9", weigh a big ol' 115 pounds, and I disappear when I turn sideways. There used to be a picture of me and Johannes, but that got a bit dated (I've not cut my hair since), and I decided that sticking up a new one wasn't a bad idea. You can thank one of my bored friends for the picture, since he had nothing better to do than take a snapshot of me reading about Trent Reznor, scan it, and email it to me.

So what am I doing here on the Internet? Well, first and foremost, I'm a writer. You probably can tell that, seeing as I have about zippo pics on this site.

I write fanfic a lot less than I used to, but I still write it. I've found that being part of an online writing community, no matter what sort (for me, it's been the group based at CFAN), can help you immensely. I can honestly say I sucked two years ago, and now I've improved leaps and bounds.

I got started on the path to stardom by editing the fics of a good friend of mine, Spade's, whose writing was incredible, she just had a tendency to get ahead of herself while typing and turn sentences into gibberish. The first fanfic I ever read, I believe, was her Vow, which had Gambit as a half vampire and I got into rather easily. I remember one good line about Wolverine trying to figure out whether or not Gambit was a telepath, so he thought a word really hard "at" the Cajun. Apparently Spade found me growling "asshole!!" aloud and loud to be flat-out hilarious.

She directed me to CFAN to read more stories other than just hers, and I suppose the rest is history. I started writing, and never really stopped, going from just fic to a wide assortment of short stories, poetry, comedy, an original story of novel-length, and satirical columns, now.

But enough of that! I'm sure you guys are just having a great time listening to me creak back and forth in a rocking chair reminiscing of times past. Let's move on to other things.

I play trumpet in a high school jazz band, which makes me cool, even if you guys don't think it does. That's about the extent of my musical talents, although I can sorta play the drums, bass, guitar, and keyboards. Heh, I'm the next Trent Reznor. Or not.

I like a lot of music too, ranging from Nine Inch Nails and Rage Against The Machine to, oh, Sting and Billy Joel. Elvis Costello and Morrissey too, somewhere in there. An odd assortment.

I'm also, sadly, rather vain. I'm not ever like "Oh, look at me, I'm so sexy", except when I'm trying to throw up or some such, and I don't hinge all my thoughts and images of other people by their appearances. I do, however, take a lot of pride in how I look and how I present myself. It's that whole "first impression" thing. Plus I dress like Euro-trash half of the time, and I enjoy looking like that.

I'd like to add a paragraph or two for my cat, Ben. I've had the little bugger all my life, or at least since I was five. The first four years of my life really aren't that clear and vivid. Ben's about twelve or thirteen years old now, and somehow the kid's still alive. I mean, the cat sleeps in the middle of the road. Not too different from normal? Well, he doesn't move for cars until they're about a foot away from him, and then he's on top of the telephone pole. He stays there for about a minute, slowly slinks back down, hair on end... and then flops in the middle of the road again. Stupid, stupid cat.

But he's the kinda feline who'll just flop up on the foot of your bed on those days where you're too sick to get up, or hop on your lap while you're watching TV and snooze there with you. He's never scratched anyone, he's never caused any real problems, and he's never let a day go by where he doesn't beat the living tar out of another cat on the street. He's a retired prizefighter.

I love my cat, all right?

Anyway, if you haven't, go to that main page and click the link to "My Work" to find some fics, a short story or two, and a LOT of poetry. I've written more than what you can see there, but you know most of the stuff people write never sees the light of day. I'm like that.

Other than that, there's not much more to say. I'm far more complex than I've written on this little incomplete bio, but it's hard to sum up seventeen years of deep enriching experiences (and passing out three times) in a few HTML pages. In closing, stick around, because I'll add to this occasionally, enjoy what's on this site, and when the mysterious portal opens right in front of you, it's good to toss a squirrel in first or something so you don't pop out into deep space with no warning.


How about emailing me with some feedback?

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