I can't believe it's almost over. I knew that 2019 was going to be a good one, but I had no idea it would go out with such a bang. Y'all. Walking The Wrong Way Home has sold over 300 copies since the publishing date of 11-26th. I had my first book event at Story... Continue Reading →
Several people back in Tennessee have asked to read the story. It’s a very personal story, but after my friend told me she was approached by two women at her bridge club who wanted her to thank me for sharing, I decided to put it here. The theme was Hope for The Holidays. Here’s my story –
Kati is an amazing woman. Twenty years ago she was in the Peace Corps, traveling all over Africa making friends and teaching kids.
Walking in Linda's back field in a pair of faded overalls and a wad of Red Man chewing tobacco in his cheek with a determined look on his face. Focused on the divining rods in his hands, he looked like a country preacher or moonshiner, serious in his business.
At the end of the study I looked at her mom and said, "Your daughter is going to be covered in ink from under her chin to the tops of her feet by the time she's twenty."
She was a tiny thing with bright hazel eyes the color of a lion's, and a mane of sunbleached dreadlocks. Not a drop of makeup on her tanned skin, but she seemed to glow.
Pamela's here! She flew down from Nashville on Tuesday, bringing with her the smells of lavender, eucalyptus and everything Pammie, smells that I've missed more than I realized. And her smile. It's a long way from Nashville, but as soon as she got in my van at the airport, it was like were back in... Continue Reading →
He was stressed because of some new things going on that I wasn't aware of. For some reason I told him about Curly having seizures. I have no idea why that popped up but, it did.
I have been out Mama Bone Barnstorming for my debut novel, One Good Mama Bone, across this great land, racking up 41,000 miles on my mud brown Hyundai and meeting the most amazing folks on the planet. A whopping 165 events, including a private party in a 1894 plantation house in Alabama, a swamp party in South Carolina, standing room only for the southern gal out in the renowned Book Passage outside of San Francisco. I am so blessed!