New novel shares St. Simons mystery F

WORDS BY RONDA RICH | PHOTO BY SELENA NIX

Though I became a bestselling author with my first book, What Southern Women Know (That Every Woman Should), I have focused almost exclusively on non-fiction storytelling. The one exception, The Town That Came A-Courtin’, based on a real-life adventure while on book tour in Arkansas and it did surprising well. It became a bestseller, a Reader’s Digest condensed book, and a successful television movie.

In the years since that book was published by New York’s Berkley, I have not ventured again into fiction.

But when you love a place the way I adore St. Simons — and now my husband, Tink, joins me in that adoration — you’re bound to hear a captivating whisper in your ear that is akin to a siren from Homer’s Odyssey , hypnotizing one not to forget the soothing ocean, the salty air, or the hanging moss.

For over a year, it sat, half-written, while I worked on other things. Tink, who read the pages as I finished chapters, had become smitten with a hilarious, lovable character nicknamed Chatty. On a frequent basis, Tink would sigh. “Oh, I miss Chatty Colquitt. I wished he’d come back.”

Then, a phone call with Allen Wallace of Mercer University Press in Macon, a publisher I have long admired, led to his discovery of my half-finished manuscript about St. Simons Island. The next day, Marc Jolly, who oversees Mercer’s acquisitions, emailed and asked, “Could we set up a call to talk about this book?”

For years, the island of St. Simons has haunted me in the best of ways. The island and its people stick to my heart intriguingly and beckon constantly for me to return.

And, like a sailor on one of Homer’s ships, I was lured by the island’s beautiful melodies, come-hither glances, and an idea which hung idly in my head for

Within two days, it was sold to Mercer and I was scrambling to finish the book (a mystery, no less, which is complicated because of the pieces that must fit together) in eight weeks. I finished it then fell into bed for three days, exhausted. A good exhaustion that comes when I have finished.

St. Simons Island: A Stella Bankwell Mystery will release on August 8, followed by a luncheon hosted by The Cloister on August 9. GJ Ford will hold a separate book signing. A couple of other events are pending confirmation on August 10.

This book was pure joy to write because I waxed on about the island I adore and peppered the book with real islanders and events I love.

Happily, Stella’s sleuthing will not end on St. Simons. She and her friends, including Chatty, a U.S Marshal from Glynco, and a former Governor who lives on Sea Island (and was inspired by Zell Miller, one of Georgia’s most famous politicians who was a cherished mentor) will move among the other islands to solve mysteries in the next book. At this point, it looks like Sapelo Island will win that honor.

A couple of months ago, Tink and I visited Chris Carr, Georgia’s Attorney General, in his office. Chris, a longtime friend, was once Commissioner over the state’s film and television industry and I was curious to know about the beginnings of a program that has brought incredible revenue into the state.

When he learned that each book would feature a different Georgia island, his eyes widened in joyous surprise and exclaimed, what everyone has said, “What a brilliant idea!”

Divinely delivered, I must add. I’m not that smart on my own.

I hope to see you all at one or more of the events. It will be meaningful to share this love letter to St. Simons with those who understand my affection.

295RedfernVillage StSimonsIsland,GA31522 (912)268-4359 www.twofriends2.com

@twofriends_stsimons

295RedfernVillage StSimonsIsland,GA31522 (912)268-4359

CHAMPAGNEBAR WINESHOP WINETASTINGS tfbubblebar@gmail.com @tfbubblebar TheBubbleBar

Why Wander?

SWhen my dad died three and a half years ago, I turned to nature. This is how I grieved and felt connected to him. From kayak camping in remote, undisclosed places, hiking 40 miles on Cumberland, biking around the north end of Sapelo, traversing the Okefenokee swamp, floating down the Altamaha and Satilla rivers, walking barefoot on the beach, I’ve found ways to ground myself and experience gratitude in this low country coastal environment that I used to take for granted.

hundred years ago, you’d have to earn the distances you traveled. That was when there were mainly trackless wild lands to traverse.

What challenges would I face? Warfare, disease, drought, famine?

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be a native man on the Georgia coast.

Would I walk barefoot in the maritime forest finding creative ways to avoid insects? Would I canoe from my community to harvest oysters, mollusks, crabs, or fish from the creeks and rivers? Would I hunt white-tailed deer and plant the land with crops hoping for a bountiful harvest? Would I feel a sense of intimate connection to the land, water, animals, plants, and community around me?

Would I feel a sense of wholeness in everyday life?

Perhaps I’ve developed a romantic notion of a simpler life. One that is characterized by the slow grind – the slowness of going from place to place, mile by mile, and soaking in the raw natural world right before me. Of course, I will never truly know all the accumulated wisdom from thousands of years of passed down knowledge and tradition. Yet, I have a deep longing to connect to where I live. Three

Today, we are becoming increasingly disconnected from the natural world around us, and there are many negative consequences associated with this. In the everyday, I feel separated from the physical places around me to varying degrees of separation. Four walled offices. Car windows rolled up. Air conditioning. Bananas from the Caribbean. Internet connection has replaced much of real life, intimate communal connection.

Sometimes it’s a good thing to disconnect and tap into our human roots.

The Power of Nature

When I’m out in nature for a long time, my mind operates in a different way. Long hikes, bike rides, and sea kayaking is like a massage for the nervous system. In the midst of a long distance journey, all problems I thought I had seemingly disappear. On Sapelo Island the weekend of my dad’s birthday in March, my buddy Sergi and I continued my tradition of getting out in nature to celebrate my dad. We set out on another maritime forest adventure on the Georgia coast — this time on bikes. We explored the unpaved roads leading to the north end of Sapelo. We pondered the unique cultural history characterized by the cascading of world-colliding events when the Spanish first made contact with the Natives on the Georgia coast.

Not too far from the very north tip of the island, there is a Native American shell ring composed of shell middens several feet tall. The diameter of the ring is likely a few dozen yards across. The middens are so old, perhaps dating back hundreds if not thousands of years, that massive live oaks are growing out of them. Barnacles, mollusks, crab shells — these are the last remains of the natives today.

What were these rings? What do we know about them? Our knowledge is certainly limited.

Something draws me to these native peoples. Perhaps it’s the mystery of how they lived. In many places, they were usurped by disease, warfare and conquest, and annihilation or banishment. Now, no natives live on the Georgia coast, and I stood on top of the shell ring bordering the marsh where oak and cedar grew, looking toward the center of the densely forested ring.

What vital knowledge about this world has been lost?

As we biked further North, eventually we stopped at High Point and stood on an oyster rake — an accumulation of oyster shells. We could see Harris Neck National Wildlife Refuge, Barbour, Wahoo, St. Catherines and Blackbeard Island. We turned back onto the road south toward Duck Pond under a densely green live oak canopy. Sergi exclaimed, “Look” as he pointed toward the tree tops, “red-tailed hawk!”

By the end of the weekend on the way back to civilization, a wave of wholeness and gratitude had already set in. I felt connected to the world and remembered again why I go on adventures in remote places.

BY DESIGN