WELL READ Magazine February 2023

TurningTrixie by RobbGrindstaff

EVOLVEDPUBLISHINGPRESENTSaliterarynovelthat exploressmall-townAmerica,celebratingitsmanyblessings whileexposingallitsdirtylittlesecrets.

TrixieBurnett,a23-year-oldsinglemomandtheonlyprostitute inthesmallnortheastTexastownofPineywoods,knowsthe winninglotteryticketinherpurseisabouttochangethings forever.

Trixieretiresfromtheworld'soldestprofessionandseeksanew lifeforherselfandhereight-year-oldson,Tyler.Troublestarts whenshedecidestherestofthetownneedschangingtoo.

Trixieneverfinishedhighschool,butshehastheInternet,an accountanttomanagehernewfoundwealth,andaranchhand withbicepshardasrocksandaheartsoftashomemadebread. Sheseeksawelcomingchurchwhereshecanputhertithesand offeringstogooduseintheLord'sservice,anewhomeintown toreplacetherundownfarmhousesheinheritedfromherfather, andanothernewhousetogethermotheroutofameth-infested trailerpark.Withmostofhermoneyinvested,sheonlysplurges onanewcar,anewbikeforTyler,anewhairdo,andanew wardrobeappropriateforjoiningtheLadies'SocietyCircle.

Butreputationsandattitudesdon'tchangeaseasilyasbank accountsorhairstyles.Seemseveryoneintownhassomethingto hide,andmoversandshakersdon'tgiveuptheirpositionseasily. Somewillstopatnothingtoprotecttheirpower,especiallyfrom ahooker-turned-philanthropistwhoknowstheirmostintimate, embarrassingsecretsandnowdarestoentertheirsanctuaries.

FeatheredQuillBookReviews:

“TurningTrixieisabeautifulstorythatIamsurewillbelovedbymany foritsincrediblestoryline.RobbGrindstaffisanexcellentwriterand hisbooksarealwaysextremelycreativeanddifferent,whichis definitelythecasewiththisone.Ihighlyrecommendthisbooktoall andencouragereaderstohopontheRobbGrindstaffbandwagon.”

Readers'FavoriteBookReviews:5Starsfromeachofthreepanelists: "AdelightfulSouthernnovel,Ifoundmyselfwonderingaboutthe author'sgender.IsRobbGrindstaffamale?Well,yes,indeedheis,but whatasuperbunderstandinghehasofhowandwhywomenthinkand actastheydo.What'sevenmoreimpressiveisGrindstaff'sabilityto createsuchanauthenticandrelatableprotagonist....arefreshingly differentplot,easy-flowingandnaturaldialogue,lighthumor,and excellentcharacterization,amostenjoyabletale."

Inadditiontoacareerasajournalist,newspapereditor,publisherand mediaexecutive,RobbGrindstaffhaswrittenfictionmostofhislife. ThenewspaperbizhastakenhimfromPhoenix,Arizona,tosmall townsinNorthCarolina,Texas,andWisconsin,fromsevenyearsin Washington,D.C.,tofiveyearsinAsia.Bornandraisedasmall-town kid,he’sascomfortableinTokyoorTuna,Texas.

Thevarietyofplaceshe’slivedserveassettingsforthecharacterswho invadehishead.

TurningTrixie, Robb'sfourthnovel, publishedDecember2022, following Slade (2022), CarryMeAway (2013), and Hannah'sVoice (2012). His novelsarebestclassifiedascontemporary southernlit.EvolvedPublishinghasalso released JuneBugGothic:Talesfromthe South,acollectionofeighteenofRobb's shortstories,includingtheaward-winning horror"DesertRain."Robbcurrentlyresides thebeautifulLakeoftheOzarksregionof Missouri,wherehewrites,edits,andcoaches writersfull-time.

ThereAreNoAnswersHere,OnlyQuestions

by CharlesBruce McIntyre

ReleaseDateMarch1,2023

Thisisthetruestoryoftwolife-altering eventsandthepersonaltransformationthat resultedfromtheirunlikelycollision.It’sthe storyofanownerpreparingtosellhis businessandretirejustasheisdiagnosed withcancer.Facedwiththechoiceof continuingwiththesaleandwaitingtodeal withcancerorputtingthedeal-makingon holdwhiletreatingcancer,ourbusiness ownerdecidestotakeonbothatthesame time.Isthispossible?Perhaps,butonlyifhe allowsotherstostepinwhilehestepsback, andthat’snevereasywhenyou’retheboss.

BrucecallsSt.Louis,Missouri,hishometown,buthisfather’s workrequiredfrequenttransfers.Bruce,anonlychild,often movedwithhisparentsinthoseearlyyears.

HecompletedhiseducationatWestminsterCollegeinFulton, Missouri,andquicklyfoundhiswaytoCincinnati,Ohio,and ProctorandGamble.Likehisfather’swork,P&Grequired relocation.WhilelivinginIndianapolis,Indiana,hemetand

marriedhiswife,Joyce.Moremovesfollowed:KansasCity, Kansas;Palatine,Illinois(aChicagosuburb);andWinstonSalem, NorthCarolina.

Brucethendecidedtoleavehisnomadiccorporatelifeandstart hisownbusiness.ThecouplechoseCharlotte,NorthCarolina,as theirnewforeverhomeandhavebeenapartofthecommunity since1979.Hisbusiness,McIntyreSales,wasafoodservicesales andmarketingagencythatgrewtorepresentmanufacturerslike Nestle,Smuckers,OtisSpunkmeyer,andmore.

JoyceandBrucehavetwochildrenandfourgrandchildren.The couple,agregariousgoldenretrieverandashyindoorcatlive happilyinasmallretirementcottage.Brucebelievesin storytellingandin“storylistening,”andhowitisinthelistening thatwestarttounderstand.Hebeganpostinghisstorieson ChoicesDoMatter,aweeklyblogthat ranforfouryears. Hehasnowwrittenhisfirstbook: There AreNoAnswersHere–OnlyQuestions. Inreadingotherpeople’smemoirs,we learnessentialtruthsaboutthehuman condition,theabilitytopivot,makea newfuture,andchangepeople’slivesin waysthataregoodandbad,butoverall, forthebetter.Ihopemystorywillcause youtoreflectonyourlifeandpullaway afewimportantideas.AndIdearlyhope that,intheend,mystorywillinspireyou toshareyourstory.Because,afterall,at theendofourlives,allthatisleftareour stories.

Join WELLREADMAGAZINE’S goodnewsgroup onFacebooktofindoutmoreabouttheauthors andcontributorsyouseehere.Lotsofgreat extraslikereviews,events,personalstories, thingstocelebrate,andopportunitiestowinfree booksdirectlyfromtheauthorsineachissue!

NOWLET’SHAVESOMEFUN!

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Findthisimage somewhereon thefollowingpages.

Post WINNER! ina newpost onthe goodnews group.

Tagme(MandyHaynes), andyou’ll wina copyofMaryGauthier’s SavedbyaSong:The ArtandHealingPowerofSongwriting

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Allweaskisthatyouleaveanhonestreview andtelleveryoneyourgoodnews. Ican’twaitto hearwhatyouthink!

MARYGAUTHIER

“Ithinktheoverarchingthesis, theme,andbigideaofthebookis thatmusicandsongcanbemore thanjustentertainment.Thatinmy life,itliterallyhasbeenaformof salvation.”

TheMightyLoveable

MaryGauthier

InterviewbyMandyHaynes

TheMightyLoveable MaryGauthier

MaryGauthier’slistofachievementsforher songwritingandperformancesareamilelong.She’sbeen rackingthemupsince1998buthere’safewofherlatest awards.In2019heralbum, Rifles&RosaryBeads,was nominatedforaGrammyforBestFolkAlbumoftheYear, wasnamedBestAlbumofTheYearattheInternational FolkMusicAwards,wasnominatedforAlbumoftheYear byTheAmericanaMusicAssociation,andMarywas namedInternationalArtistoftheYearbyTheAmericana AssociationUK.In2018, Rifles&RosaryBeads was named#1BestSinger/SongwriterAlbumof2018byLA Timesand WarAfterTheWar wasnamed#1Songofthe YearbyNPR/MalcolmGladwell.

Mary’ssongshavebeenrecordedbydozensofartists, includingJimmyBuffett,DollyParton,BoyGeorge,Blake Shelton,TimMcGraw,BettyeLavette,MikeFarris,Kathy Mattea,BobbyBare,AmyHelmandCandiStatonand

haveappearedextensivelyinFilmandTelevision,most recentlyonHBOTV’s Yellowstone.

In2021Marypublished SavedbyaSong:TheArtand HealingPowerofSongwriting.Partmemoir,part philosophyofart,andpartnutsandboltsofsongwriting, SavedbyaSong isadiscussionoftheartandhealing powerofsongsandsongwriting.Ithittheshelveswith somegreatendorsementslikethese:

"Generousandbig-hearted,Gauthierhasstoriestotell andworthwhileadvicetoshare."―WallyLamb,authorof IKnowThisMuchIsTrue

“ThinkAnneLamottmeetsJuliaCameronmeetsPatti Smith…Anyonewhocanstillwritefromtheheartabout writingfromtheheartafterbeinginthemusicbusinessas longasGauthierhasistherealdeal.Herbookinvites seasonedartiststodeeperauthenticity,newartiststo deepercraftandallreaderstodeeperself-reflection."

―BookPage

“Athoughtfulmeditationbyoneofthefinest practitionersaroundonwhatmakesasongmatterandthe hardlessonsshe'slearned...Thisisatreasureofabookas wellasalovelettertosongsandsongwritersandthe peoplewholistentothem.”

―Booklist(Starred)

I’vebeenafanofMary’smusicforyearsandIwas veryexcitedtogetmyhandsonherbook.Ireachedoutto hertoseeifshehadtimetosharethestorybehindthe

storiesandIcouldn’tbelievemyluck.Shewasonagig, shesaid,butshewouldbemorethanhappytotalkwhen shegotbacktoNashville.Aweeklater,justoffathirty daytourinEuropeandtheUKMarywasalittlejetlagged butthatdidn’tstopherfromfindingtimetotalkwith WELLREAD.

“It’sabigdifferenceisn’tit?Writingasongandwriting abook?”

Marylaughed.“It’samassivedifferencebetween writingsongsandwritingabook!Thebooktooksixyears toputtogether.Andyouknowafterthirtytothirty-five daysthepublisherisdonewithpromotion.Gettingthe bookintothehandsofpeoplewhowouldappreciateitis hardwork.”

IaskedMarywhensheknewshewantedtowritea book.

“I’vebeenanavidreadermywholelifeandI’vealways fanciedmyselfawriter,butIwouldn’thavedoneitifI hadn’tgottenabookdeal.Thatgavemeadeadlineand themotivation.Ijustadmireandlovewriterssomuch.I’d writtensomeshortstoriesandessaysfordifferent magazinesandanthologycontributionsbutuntilIsat downtowriteaproperbook,Ireallyhadnoideajusthow challengingitistodoitanddoitwell.”

Youmightbethinking,someonegaveherabookdeal? Howdidthathappen?Well,Mary’sstoryisapowerful

one.BorninNewOrleans,Maryspentthefirstyearofher lifeinStVincent'sWomenandInfantsAsylumbeforeshe wasadopted.Herfamilyhaditsshareofstrugglesand Maryranawayattheageoffifteen.Herlifewasarollercoasterrideuntilshefinallymadethedecisiontogetsober attheageoftwenty-seven,andshegotseriousabout writingsongsattheageofthirty-two.Hersongsare storiesthatprovesheisawriterandastoryteller,andthey receiveovertwohundredandninethousandlistenseach monthonjustoneofthestreamingplatformsalone.Her publisherknewMaryhadanaudience.

Iaskediftherewasonestorythathadpreviouslybeen publishedthatshewasextraproudof.

“MelvilleHouse putoutacollectioncalledAmplified. It’sananthologyofshortstorieswrittenbysongwriters andIthoughtthatwasagoodrunningstartformeasa writerofsomethingotherthansongs.I’mprettyproudof thatone.It’scalled AttheHolidayInnAgain andit’sa lookintotheearlydaysofmylifeandmyparent’s strugglewitheachotherandwhatmeandmybrotherand sisterlivedwithbackthen.Mymomwouldgetpissedand leavemydadandwe’dallgototheHolidayInn.I’dhave topackupmybrotherandsisterandalloftheirschool stuffandallthethings’kidsneedforthenextday…It’sa lookbackintodysfunctionalfamily,whichIthinkasa Southernerwe’reexpertsat.ButIamproudofthatstory

becauseIgotintothevoiceofanine-year-oldwhowasin chargeofherbrotherandsister.”

Icommentedthatit’strue,Southerner’sdohaveplenty topullfrom.“WhenItellstoriesaboutmychildhoodto mySouthernfriendswe’lllaugh,whilemyfriendswho aren’tfromdownherearehorrified.But all ofmywriter friendstellmeI’mdamnluckybecausemychildhood gavemelotsoffodderforstories.”

“Wehavematerial!”Marylaughs.

WhileMarywaswriting SavedbyaSong,shewasalso travelingandplayinggigsnonstop.

“Youdon’ttakebreaksdoyou?”Iasked.

“Idon’thavetimetoslowdown.I’llslowdownwhenI die.Ihavealotofambitionandalotofmotivation.AndI lovemyjob,”saysMary.“Butwiththatbeingsaid–I’m notgoingtorushoutanotherbook.Let’sletthisonesit aroundforafewyears.”

Maryisafulltimesongwriter,author,andperformer whorunsherownbusiness.She’salsoateacher.

“Yeah,Iteachalot.Iworkwithsongwritersofallages severaltimesayearinsmallgroups.That’spartofmy joy–helpingsongwritersseetheirtalentandshowthem wheretheircourageisandencouragethemtobebrave enoughtotelltheirstories.Especiallyoldersongwriters whohaven’treallydedicatedthemselvestoitbecauselife gotinthewaybutnowtheyhavetime.Ohman,that’smy

favoritestudentrightthere.”

“They’vegotthebeststories.”

“Yeah,they’vegotsomethingtotalkabout.The challengeisforthemtobevulnerableandbrave.”

IaskedMarywhatshewantedreaderstotakewiththem aftertheyreadherbook.

“Ithinktheoverarchingthesis,theme,andbigideaof thebookisthatmusicandsongcanbemorethanjust entertainment.Thatinmylife,itliterallyhasbeenaform ofsalvation.I’veheardmanyothersongwriterssaythe samethingandI’veheardmany,manylistenerssaythe samething.Sothere’sescapismandcheckingout–pure entertainmentandthosekindsofaregreat.Everybody needstocheckouteverynowandthenandjustdanceand haveagoodtime.That’sperfectlyfine.It’sneeded.But thenthere’stheseotherkindsofartistsandsongwriters whosejobitistogetpeopletocheckin–notcheckout. Wecanalllivetogetherharmoniously,oneisnotbetter thantheother.Withthatsaid,theideaofthebookisthat musicandsongcanbealchemy.Andthisalchemyisa typeoftransformationaroundtrauma.Havingworked withveteransforadecadeIsawmusicandsong alchemizesomeoftheworsttrauma.Doesthatmeancure it?No.Itmeanscreatesomethingthatgeneratesempathy sothatthetraumabecomesaspringboardforsomething usefulforothers.Andinthatpurposethere’ssomehealing

thatcanoccurwhenasoldierrealizesthattheirstorycan helpothers.

Orwhenasongwriterlikeme,longbeforeIworked withveterans,startedtorealize–Wow,peopleare resonatingwithmysongsandtheirtellingmethatithelps them.Iknowit’shelpingme.That’smybigidea.”

IhadtotellMarywhatIfeltthefirsttimeIheardoneof hersongs.IwasdrivingintoworkandthoughtIwasgoing tohavetopullofftheinterstate.“Iwasgoingthrougha toughtimeandthissongcameonthatwassopowerfulit hitmereallyhardandIstartedcrying.Itfeltlike Mercy

Now waswrittenforme,”Ilaughed,“Ibetmanypeople feelthesamewayandthat’sgottobeagreatfeeling.”

“Itisagreatfeeling.Honestly,Iwrotethatsongforme! ButIputitintheworldandpeopleclaimedit,andthat’s whatyouwantasasongwriter–forpeopletosay,Mary, playmysong!YeahI’llplayyoursongbecauseit’sof servicetoyouatatimewhenyouneededit.Andthatto meisahighercalling.It’sabitofaministry–it’smore thanashowbusinessenterprise.”

Ipointedoutthat’sexactlywhat SavedbyaSong:The ArtandHealingPowerofSongwriting is.Abitofa ministry.

Maryisaninspirationtosomany.Ihadtoknow,“Who inspiresyou?”

“Ihaverespectforsomanycreativetypes,somany

veteransI’veworkedwith,somanystrongsmartwomen inpolitics…I’minspiredbypeoplewhoexhibitcourage. WhenIknowthatwhatthey’redoingisscaryandthey’re doingitanyway–man,that’sinspirational.Courageis contagiousjustlikecowardiceiscontagious,andIwantto bearoundpeoplewhohavecourage.Peoplethatputtheir assonthelineandsaysomethinganddosomethingand arewillingtotaketheblowbackandtheriskofsayingand doingsomething.ThosearethepeopleI’minspiredbyand theyhelpmetobebrave.”

Iagreed.

“I’mwiththegreatJohnLewis–ifyouseesomething, saysomething.”

IaskedMary,“Ifyoucouldgobackintimeandtell youryoungerselfonething,whatwoulditbe?”

“IthinkIwouldtelllittleMarythatshe’sloveable.It’s goingtotakeawhiletofindthepeoplethatarecapableof lovingherbuttheywillcome.Thatpeople’sinabilityto lovelittleMarydidn’tmakeherunlovable.‘CauseI would’vechangedmylifeifIknewIwaslovableasa littleperson.Iprobablywouldn’thaveendedupadrug addictandanalcoholicifI’dknown.Butontheother handallofthisispartofmymissionandit’swhatdrives measanartistandIprobablyhadtogothroughittogetto thesongsandtogettoanunderstandingofwhoIam.It’s partofmyspiritualjourney.Butifthatwishcouldbe

granted,Iwouldgobackandconvinceherthatshewas indeednotunlovable.”

That’spowerfuladviceforeverybody.

“Kidsneedloveandtheyneedconsistencyandwhen they’resurroundedbyaddictionandmentalillnessthey’re notsafe.Theyinternalizeitandforachild,theyalmost alwaysthinkit’stheirfault.That’swhathappenedtome. Butnobodydidittome–theywerejustdoingit.”

Mary’swordshitmehard–justlikewhenIheardMercy Nowforthefirsttime,Ifeltthatconnectiontowhatshe hadtosay.

“Itgetspassedonuntilsomeonesaysenough.Itstops here.I’mgoingtodowhateverworkittakesforittostop here.IgotsoberwhenIwastwenty-seven.I’mstillin therapy–probablyalwayswillbe–butwhenyoutakea standandplanttheflagandsayno,itendshere–itcanend here.It’saverydifficultlife-longcommitmentbecause whenyou’reraisedinthechaosofaddiction,mental illness,andhighleveldysfunction,you’rewounded.It’s noteasytodoitdifferentlybutI’vegrownalotand continuetogroweveryday.”

Amentothat.

“Myexperienceisthatwriting–boththebookand songs–hasreallyhelpedmetoseeitandonceyouseeit, you’vegotchoices.“

AndMaryisgivingeverybodyplentyofchoiceswith

herwords.

ThelastquestionIhadforMaryiswhat’ssheworking onnext.

“IjustfinishedatourandI’mnotinacreativemode rightnow.Mylifepartner, Jaimee Harris,isaboutto releaseherrecordsoI’mfocusedonbeingsupportiveand beingacheerleaderforher.IimagineonceIslowdown andputmyselfinthesupportiveroleI’llbecomecreative again.IknowIwanttowriteanotherbook,butI’mnotin anyhurry.IjustwanttosupportJaimeeandbehome, whichI’mlookingforwardto.”

TEDxTALKS

SavedbyaSong MaryGauthier

TEDxLincolnSquare

SarahSilverman InterviewsMary Gauthier

ILoveYou,America

Thisbookisforyouif…youlovemusic, songs,andsongwriters,ifyouareanartist, writer,songwriter,ifyouloveone,ifyouarein recovery,ifyouareinterestedinthecreative process. SavedByaSongisanexplorationofthe redemptivepowerofsong,throughtheeyesof aGrammynominatedsongwriterwhose addictionandrecoveryprovidethebackground storytodemonstratethepowerofsongsto inspireandchangelives.Songscanrepair heartsandhealsouls;thisbookcelebratesthis amazingalchemy.Itisadeepdiveintotheart andhealingpowerofsongsforboththe songwriter,andthelistener.

SavedbyaSong: TheArtandHealingPowerofSongwriting.

HELLOWRITERS!

WriterswhoparticipateintheMurderCreekWriting RetreatwillcongregateinBrewton,Alabamalocatedon thesouthernborderofAlabamajustnorthoftheFlorida Panhandle.Brewtonwasknowninpasttimesasthe richestlittletownintheSouthandhasbeenvotedoneof the100bestsmalltownsinAmerica.

It’sawellknownfactthatthere’ssomethingspecial(some sayit’smagic)aboutthestateofAlabamawhenitcomes tothenumberofwell-knownauthorswithinitsborders.

I’vebeentoldthattherehavebeenstudiesonthesubjectisitsomethingintheair,inthesoil?AsfarasIknow,no one’sfiguredoutascientificreasonforit,soI’mgoing withmagic.CreativitybreedscreativityandBrewtonis thebirthplaceofmanycreativetypesincludingtwoofmy personalfavorites-authorSuzanneHudsonandsinger/ songwriter/storytellerGraysonCappsaswellashometo WilliamGoldenoftheOakRidgeBoys,singer/songwriter

HankLocklin,andauthorandscreenwriter,Michael

McDowellwho’sbeendescribedbyauthorStephenKing

as"thefinestwriterofpaperbackoriginalsinAmerica

Thisretreat,organizedbyHollyHartShirleyandMandy HaynesandsponsoredinpartbyWELLREADMagazine andthecityofBrewton,isgearedtowardwritersofall backgroundswhohaveaworkinprogress.

Nomatteryourwritingexperience,you’llleavethe MurderCreekWritingRetreatwithimportantinformation includingthecraftofwritingdifferentgenres,what publishersarelookingforandhowtosubmityourwork, theprosandconsofself-publishingv.traditional publishing,howandwheretofindaudiobooknarrators, andlotsoftechniquesandtipsabouttheartofstorytelling thatarebeneficialtoauthorsofallgenresandwillhelp strengthenourvoiceonthepage.

RetreatDates:

September1st -4th

Allinterestedparticipantsareencouragedtoapplyassoon aspossibleduetothelimitedspaceavailable.

RetreatRates willrangefrom$995to$1495per participantbaseduponaccommodations.

Costoftheretreatincludesthefollowing:

Dailybreakfast,dinner,snacks,andthreenightsatthe historicHolleyHouseBedandBreakfast.

Twodaysofin-personworkshopsaswellasafewvirtual classesledbysomeofthemostentertainingandwellestablishedauthorsandpeopleinthepublishingbusiness.

(ListoffacilitatorsTBA)

SwagbagsfromTheHolleyHouseandWELLREAD filledwithuniquegiftsandtreatsfromlocalbusinesses.

Groupactivitiesinclude: Fridaynightmeetandgreet barbeque,amoonshinetastingfromtheMurderCreek Distillery,storytellingsession,alowcountryboil,anda concertputonbylocalmusicians.Wewillalsohavetime setasideattheendofSaturdayandSundayfor participant’stohaveinformalcritiquesessionsand readings.

ABOUTTHEACCOMMODATIONS:

ThehistoricHolleyHouseBedandBreakfastwill accommodatefourteenauthors.Withthreelivingareas,a

diningroom,aneventroomwithtentablesandample placestoplugincomputersandchargers,highspeed wirelessinternetthroughoutthehouse,eightporches,and achapeltoclearyourhead,the15,000squarefoothistoric BedandBreakfastwillbeyourhomeawayfromhome whileyoulearnfromawardwinningauthors,workshop withyourpeers,putwordsonthepages,andreviseyour manuscript.

Eightsuiteshavequeenorkingbedsandprivatebaths, whilethetwoupstairssuiteswithmultiplebedroomshave sharedbathswithaccesstoakitchenandtwolargeliving areas.

Everyroominthe5starbedandbreakfasthasluxurious bedsandcomfortablerobestospoilyouwhileyouwork onyourmanuscript.DeborahGeorge,InnKeeperof HolleyHouse,willprovidehomecookedmeals(including herfamouschickenanddumplings)plusplentyofsnacks forattendees.

TheapplicationprocessfortheMurderCreekWriting RetreatwillopenonMarch1st. Wewillhavemore informationonhowtoapplyinMarch’sissueofWELL READ,buthereisanexampleofthequestionsthatwillbe includedintheapplication:

Whatexcitesyoumostaboutbeingatthisretreat?

Whatareyouworkingonnow?

Whydoyouthinkyou’reagoodfitforthisretreat?

Whatisyourcomfortlevelwithreceivingconstructive critiques?

Haveyouparticipatedinapreviouswritingretreat?Ifso, whatwasthenameoftheretreat?Whatdidyoufindmost beneficial?

WearesoexcitedaboutthiseventandtheHolleyHouse can’twaittoopentheirhomeandheartstoeveryonethis fall.

…Fortiswouldhavebeen amoreappropriatename formygrandmother.Lenis wasfortisalltheway.

enis

HollyHartShirley

Everyoneshouldhaveknownthatshewouldbeaforce ofnaturebythewayLeniscameintotheworld.Toget hometoseehisbabyborn,herDaddyhadtoswimacross treacherousbranches,rivers,andcreekstogetbackhome tohermother,sansdoctorormidwife.Thisfloodwaslater knowntolocalsastheGreatFloodof1929andeveryone inEscambiaCountyhadamarkontheirwallswherethe waterhadstained.Itwasabadgeofcouragetoshowout oftownfolkshowfarthewaterhadrisenduringthegreat flood.

Lenisbroughttheflood.

BigmamaalwayssaidshenamedLenisafteraname she’dseeninabook,andsaiditwasFrench,Idon’t know?Mygrandmother,Leniswithone“N”,istheonly LenisI’veevermet,andIdon’tthinktheworldcould've handledtwoofthem.

Lenis:ADJECTIVE

(ofaconsonant,especiallyavoicedconsonant)weakly articulated,especiallydenotingthelessorleaststrongly articulatedoftwoormoresimilarconsonants.The oppositeoffortis.

Bigmamashould’velookedupthedefinitionofLenis beforegivingthegirlwhohadtheloudestsneezeinthe historyofinsufferablescreamingsneezesanamethat meanttheleastarticulatedoftwoconsonants.Fortiswould havebeenamoreappropriatenameformygrandmother. Leniswasfortisalltheway.

Atnineyearsold,Leniswouldwakeup,milkthecow, getafiregoinginthewoodburningstove,helpwith breakfast,andsometimesmakeabatchofdivinityor fudgethatshe’dsellonthebusforanickelperchunk. Fromthetimeshewastenyearsold,shealwayshada pocketfullofmoney.

Lenisgraduatedinrecordtimefromhighschool,going tosummerschooleverysummerandsavingupthe$3per eachcountyschoolbusshewaspaidtopainttheletterson. ObsessedwithHollywood,glamour,andfashionherentire life,mygrandmotheralwayslookedlikeshesteppedout ofafashionmagazine.Theyearshepaintedallthose schoolbuses,sheboughtaCatlinaswimsuitwithher

money—justliketheonesthemoviestarswore.

Bythetimeshewaseighteen,shewasafirst-grade teacherandattendedTroyStateTeachers’Collegeinthe summerstoearnherteachingcertificate.Sheneverwanted tobeateacher,Leniswantedtobeadoctororanurse.Her Daddytoldherthatnurseswereloosewomenandhe “weren’tagonnahaveit”,soshecouldbeateacher.Our branchofthetreewouldn’tbeheretodayifLenishad wantedtobeaschoolteacher—astoryforanotherday.

Followingafailedmarriagetoamilitarymanwhoslid intoherfrontyardtosignhisdivorcepapersonthetwo tiresofayellowconvertiblewitharedheadnamedMavis ridingshotgun,LenisfoundajobworkingforalocalENT, Dr.Perry.Albeitanindirectpathtomedicine,shefound herwayintoacareerandthrivedworkingwithpatients.

Adivorced,singlemotherin1956wasn’taneasytitleto carry,andyetshewasoneofthefirstwomeninEscambia Countytohaveherowncheckingaccountandalineof creditatthelocalbank.Mr.Murphy,thebanker,askedher ifshecouldbringherDaddyintosignforhertoopena checkingaccountandshesaid“Why?Heisn’tpayingmy bills.”Shemadehistoryanddiedwiththehighestcredit scoremostbankshadeverseen.

Lenishadanentrepreneurialspiritthatwascunningand relentless.Shedecidedearlyonifshecouldn’tbeadoctor, shewouldbecomeahospitaladministrator.Wordonthe

streetwasthedoctorwhoownedthelocalhospitalwas recentlydivorcedandstrugglingtomanagehisbusiness. Lenissethersightsonbecominghisadministrator.

Uponreturningfromabeachtrip,Lenisputonalinen sundressthatcrisscrossedinthebackandmadeapitcher oflemonade.Dr.Holleywascomingouttovisit

CommissionerJulianHenley,Lenis’sDaddy,andshehad decidedshewasgoingtoaskforajob.Itdidn’thurtthat shewasbeautiful,twenty-eightyearsoldwithatwentyfour-inchwaistandsunkissed,becausebeforeshecould askaboutajob,Dr.Holleyaskedher“What’sPerry payingyou?I’llgiveyou$75aweekandI’llbuyyoua car.”

Shegota1958Packard.

LeniswenttoworkforDr.Holleythenextweekand turnedhishospitalaroundinrecordtime.Accordingto Grandmother,shefiledoldinsuranceclaims,hadmoney pouringinthedoors,startedtopayoffDoc’sdebts,and hadpatientslineduptoseehim.Leniskepthiminline andsoberwhenheneededtobe.Theyweregreatpartners, buttherewasamonkeywrenchinthebusiness—Lenis hadafiancé’.

Dr.Holleywouldcomeupwithalistofridiculoustasks thatnopersoncouldaccomplishiftheyworkedatwentyhourdayeverytimeJimYeager,Lenis’sAirForcepilot fiancécameintotown.Veryirritated,shecameoutand

askedDocwhyhewastryingtosabotageherrelationship andhesimplysaid,“Youdon’thaveanybusiness marryingamaninthemilitary.”Thenextweekend,Doc askedLenis“Whatareyoudoingthisweekend?Doyou wanttogotoMississippiandgetmarried?”

September10,1957,theyweremarriedandremained marriedforforty-oneyears.Docwastwenty-threeyears hersenior.

LeniswasthemostdeterminedpersonI’veeverknown. Shedidwhatshewanted,whenshewanted,andhowshe wanted.Sheoftensaidthatshewasthequeenofthat damnedhillwelivedonandifwedidn’tlikeit,walk.She meantthat.Whenshe’dhadenoughofanyconversation, shewouldloudlyscream“ForgetAboutit,Imean FORGETIT!”

WhenIhadmyfirstjobinterviewinmytwentiesLenis said“You’llgetthejob.You’rebeautifulandyouknow lookinggoodis90%ofeverything.”Innerbeautywasfor uglypeople,notforLenisandcertainlynotforher children.SheoncesaidthatshewouldlovemeifI’dbeen bornugly,butshelovedmemorebecauseIwasn’t.

GrandmotherandherfirstcousinJodydidn’thave wrinklesuntiltheirnineties.Theywerehavingworkdone beforeplasticsurgerywascool.Whenstoppedfor speedingaftertheirfirstfacelift,Jodytoldthepoliceman thattheyhadbeenbeatenbytheirhusbandswhowerein

themob,andtheyweregoingtoseethedoctor.Insteadof aticket,therecoveringbruisedduoreceivedapolice escorttotheirplasticsurgeon’sofficewithlightsflashing.

PlayingdressupinLenis’sclosetwasadreamfora littlegirl.CapesandfursandbootsandgloveslikeAlexis CarringtonfromDynastycoveredLenislikeroyalty.Like Alexis,shehadapresenceabouther;shetookupallthe oxygenintheroom.

Duringtheseventies,asquare-dancinghair-dresser friendofLenis’snamed“Juanita”whowasacross betweenJuneCarterCashandElvira,metashysterrecord producerwhopromisedforfivethousanddollarshewould makeheracountrystar.LeniscouldsmellNashvilleand bitthescamhook,line,andsinkerwithouteverhearing Juanitasing.Takeawayfromthisexperience:Readthe prospectusbeforeyouinvest,andalwaysgetasampleof anartist’sworkbeforebecomingtheirbenefactor.

JuanitareturnedfromNashvillewithademoandfive thousanddollarslighter.Iwillneverforgetwalkinginto thekitchenwhileshewassinging“I’mgonnahauloffand loveyouonemoretime”whilemakingafistandstomping herfoot—itlookedlikeshewaspumpingwateronthe prairie.Thesoundscomingfromhermouthwereworse thanyardcatsinheat.Itwasthatverydaymymother, Deborah,decidedifthatladycouldbeastar,shewas headingtoNashvilletoo.Foryears,mymotherhadbeen

singinginthemirrorwithadeodorantbottle,shewas equallyasqualifiedasJuanita.

Leniswasgoingthroughamid-lifecrisisandhad alwayscravedthespotlight,soshewenttoNashvillewith Juanitaandmymomandboughtherselfawardrobethat wasnothingbutleather,bling,fringe,andgigantic seventiessunglasses.

Duringtheseventies,Nashvillewasexperiencinga renaissance.Countrymusicwascrossingovertopop,sad drinkingsongsweren’ttheonlythingoncountryradio. EvenBerryGordyatMotowndecidedtobranchoutinto countrymusic.GordytappedJohnFishertothehelmof MelodylandRecords.JohnspottedLenistheminuteshe walkedintoTheKingoftheRoad.Shealwayssaidhe approachedherthinkingshewasimportantbecauseofher fabulouswhiteleatheroutfitwiththefringe.

Fisherwalkeduptoherandsaid,“Whoareyouwith?” andsheanswered,“I’mLenisHolley.”Hespentafew daysaskingeveryoneintownwhoshewas,whichcreated abuzz,andshewassooninvitedtolotsoffunparties.

FisherandLenisbecamefastfriendsandeventuallythe twoofthemstartedtheirownsmallrecordlabel—Current Records.

Johncouldsmokethreecigarettesatatime,putthem insideofhismouthlit,downadrinkofwater,andthen openhismouthandcontinuetosmokethecigarettes.To

thisday,it’sthebestpartytrickI’veeverseen.

WhileJohndidcouchcastingeveryday,Leniswould takeT.G.Sheppardtolunch;thatwasherjob.T.G.hada bighitwith“DevilintheBottle”andwasJohn’sheadline recordingartistatMelodyland.LenisandJohnlatersigned StellaParton,Dolly’ssister,andafewlesser-known recordingartistswhowerefantastic.Johnhadalsosigned TerryStaffordwhowroteoneofthegreatestcountryhits ofalltime, AmarillobyMorning.

YoumightimaginethatMelodylandwouldhavehada fancyofficewithlotsofchromeandglass,butitdidn’t.

Johnhadanupstairsofficewithpaneledwallsandsome vinylstackingchairswithafewgoldrecordshangingon thewall.ThatwasNashvilleintheseventies-oldhouses onSixteenthAvenuewhereyoumightrunintoacountry musiclegendonanygivenday.Irememberseeingaguy bendingovertyinghisshoesandJohnscreamingout“I’m notkissingyourass,standup.”ItwasRayStevensandI yelledoutthewindow“DON’TLOOKETHEL!”

Mymotherbecameagreatperformerandhadtwo singlesonLenis’sandJohn’slabel.HerremakeofBarbara Mason’s“YesI’mready”was#1for26weeksinDeLand, Florida(#1isa#1nomatterwhereitis)andshetouredall overthecountrywithafewguyswhohadtouredwithThe Birds.Herlastbiggigwasaheadlinerforayearina Gilly’stypeclubinDaytonaBeach,Florida,called

CountryMusicUSAin1977.Foralittlegirlsingingina deodorantbottle,theseweredreamsmaterialized.

Momeventuallymovedusbackhometoraiseme, LenishadbusinesstoattendtowithGranddaddy,and Nashvillewasinourrear-viewmirror.

ItwasalongjourneyfromBradley,Alabama,firingupa woodburningstoveandmilkingacowatdaylightto owningasmallrecordlabelinNashville,butLenisdidit.

ShewasneverinductedintotheOpry,andsheneverwon agrammy.Whatshedidwassomuchbetterthanthat.

Lenisturnedhernickelfudgeintostarspangleddreams cometrueandIamabeneficiaryofhertenacity.

HollyHartShirleyisthefifthgenerationofwomentolive atHolleyHouseandsharetheirloveofgoodfoodand hospitality.Sheisaninteriordesignerandworked alongsidehermother,DeborahGeorge,forfourandahalf yearsontherenovationandreconstructionofthebedand breakfast—leavingnodetailtochance.Hollylivedat HolleyHouseasachildandlaterasayoungadultand nowisthefounderoftheMurderCreekWritingRetreat thatwilltakeplaceinherchildhoodhomeeveryyear.She isanNCIDQcertifiedinteriordesignerandresidesin Birmingham,Alabamawithherhusbandoftwentyyears, Jimbo,andtheashesoftheirlateMaltese,WillieNelson.

SheisaprofessionalmemberofWritersBootcampoutof LosAngeles,California,andisanalumnusoftheYale WritersWorkshop.Hollyiscurrentlyworkingonamemoir entitledBlackwaterBirthright.

Hollywithhergrandmother,Lenus,1974

Tell-TaleBones by CarolynHaines

CarolynHaines’sTell-Tale Bonesmarksthenextnovel intheseriesthatKirkus Reviewscharacterizesas “StephaniePlummeetsthe Ya-YaSisterhood”featuring sassySouthernprivate investigatorSarahBooth Delaney.

PrivateInvestigatorSarah BoothDelaneyandher

partnerTinkieareinSheriff

ColemanPeters’soffice,askingColemanaboutcoldcases, whenElisaReddstormsinwithacaseherown.Shewants Colemantoreopentheinvestigationofhermissing daughter,LydiaReddMaxell,theheiresstoalargefortune whodisappearedalongwithherfriendBethany10years ago,whilethetwoofthemwereworkingashumanrights organizers.NowLydia’shusband,Tope,issettoinherit thefortune,andElisasuspectshe’sbehindthe disappearance.

ArmedwithapileofmysteriousnotesmailedtoElisaover theyears,SarahBoothandTinkiefollowanincreasingly

twistytrailalloverSunflowerCounty,leadingthemtoa treeandanemptygraveinthecountycemetery.Agrave that’ssaidtobehaunted…

I’mawriter,loverofanimals,reader,teacher,and mischiefmaker.Perhapsit’sthelastcategorythatImost wanttoexcelat!Onthesiteyou’llfindstoriesabout readers/friendsandtheiranimals,Jittyadvice,contests, booknews,newsletters,andphotosofthethingsthat matterinmylife.

Ilovetohearfrommyreaders,sofeelfreetodropaline, andIwillwriteyouback.

Ifyouspawnmischief,I’lljoinyouinit!

Mycalendarisalsoonthewebsite,andwhilemytravels aremostlyconfinedtotheSouth,youneverknowwhenI mightpopupsomewhere.Socheckthecalendartoseeif I’mgoingtobeinyourneckofthewoods.IwishIhad timetotravel,butIalsohaveasmallanimalrescue (Good FortuneFarmRescue) andthatkeepsmeclosetohome.

YouWantMore:Selected

StoriesofGeorgeSingleton Thirtystories,collectedinone volumefortheveryfirsttime,from oneoftheSouth'sbestknownand mostacclaimedshortstorywriters.

Alovelornandchattyeuthanasia vetarrivesatacouples'houseto putdowntheirdog,Probate;a father-to-besearcheshis

workplace--abar--forareplacementsonogramafter recordinganepisodeofBonanzaovertheoriginal;an unlikelyromancesparksbetweenalibrariananda professionalbowlerwhiletheycompetetowinanRV;a fathertakeshissontovisitthemanyex-girlfriendsthat couldhavebeenhismother.

ThesestoriesbeartheinfluenceofFlanneryO'Connorand RaymondCarver,atothertimesLewisNordanandDonald Barthelme,andtouchonthemysteriesofchildhood,the complexitiesofhumanrelationships,andtheabsurdityof everydaylife,itsinexorabledefeatsandsmalltriumphs.

Oliver by MandyHaynes

“WhatasweetSouthernyarn.Make nomistake:thenarratorhasplenty ofspitfireandsass,whichkeepsthe talelively,butit'sthesweetbrother mostofthetownhasbulliedand dismissedwhocarriesthestoryto itsheartwarmingconclusion.The authorhasagoodearforSouthern dialogueandproserhythms,butthis isatalethatcallsupontheYiddish andEasternEuropeantraditionof thewisefool.ThinkIsaacBashevisSinger,"Gimpel,The Fool,"forexample.ThinkAristotleandperipitas,or reversals,inwhichtheweakbecomemightyandthe mightyweak,andthenjustenjoyagood,colloquial Southernread.”

FiveStarReaderReview

“It’sbeenawhilesinceI’vereadanovellaandIamso gladthatIreadthisone.Oliver'skindheartandhis intuitionareexceptionalandthisspecialcharacterwill staywithmeforquitesometime.Ilovedthebondhehad withhissister.Theirinteractionsmademelaughoutloud whilealsotuggingatmyheartstrings.Iftheworldhad more"Olivers"itwoulddefinitelybeabetterplace.Give yourselfthegiftofreadingthislovelynovella.Youwillbe sogladyoudid.”

“Ifyouwanttoseewhataheart lookslike,brokenintowords,read thisbook.Ifyouwanttosee whatcouragelookslike,brickby brickallthewaytoheaven…read thisbook.”—JeffArch,author ofaward-winningnovel,

AttachmentsandOscarnominee forSleeplessinSeattle

Annie’sSong:

Dandelions,Dreams,andDogs

March14,2023

AnnieMcDonnell

LetMeSayThis:ADollyPartonPoetry Anthologyoffers54poets’takesonoftenunsungfacetsofthisdiamondina rhinestoneworld—callinginDolly’s impeccablecomedictiming,herlyric mastery,herbusinessacumen,andher Dollyverseadvocacy.Thesepoemsremind ustobebetterandtodobetter,tosubvert Dollycliché,andtheyencourageusto weaveDollymetaphorintoourownfamily lore.Withinthesepages,Dollytakesthe stageandthedinnertable;readersseethe publicDollyofthesilverscreenandthe privateDollyofidentitycontemplation. Dollyraisespraiseandquestion,andshe butterfliesintoourheartstounabashedlyto claimthemantraInDollyWeTrust.

IntheChineseCulturalRevolution, millionsofmiddleschoolandhighschool graduates,calledthezhiqingorEducated Youth,weresentuptothemountainsand downtothecountrysidetoreceive reeducationfromthepoorpeasants.With deepconvictionthattheywouldplayan importantroleinthetransformationof ruralChina,thezhiqingbecamefield hands,neverrealizingthatreeducationwas bothaphysicalandpsychological challenge.Thiscollectionofpoetryisthe representationofthosereeducationyears inthefields.Halfacenturyhaspassed,but memoriesremainfresh,eachapageof suffering,cheering,ordreamingtoturn.

“RickCampbell’slatestcollectionreads likeanextendedelegyforthepoethimself, forhislostlovedones,andforthechanges inthewiderworld.Inthisway,itis reminiscentofHardy.Thisistheworkofa manwiseinthewaysoftheworldandnot afraidtobewhatweallare:flawed.His voiceispersonalandvulnerable...The bookconsistsofverydetailedand compressedpoems,bothfocusedonthe naturalworldandonaninnerlandscape describedwithaconsistenttoneandvoice throughout.”—GeorgeDrew,authorof Fancy’sOrphan,PastoralHabits, and DownandDirty

MADVILLEPUBLISHING seeksoutandencouragesliterarywriters withuniquevoices.Welookforwriterswhoexpresscomplexideasin simpleterms.Welookforcriticalthinkerswithatwang,alilt,oraclick intheirvoices.Andpatois!Weloveagoodpatois.Wewanttohearthose regionalismsinourwriters’voices.Wewanttopreservethesoundofour historiesthroughourvoicescompleteandhonest,dialectalfeaturesand all.Wewanttohighlightthosefeaturesthatmakeourculturesspecialin waysthatdonotfocusondivision,butrathershineanappreciativelight onourdiversity.

DeathbyGreed byAbigail Keam

Josiahisworkinginherhoneybee yardwhenshehearsacommotion comingfromherhorsepasture. Sherushestowardtheuproarand comesuponahuge,enragedTexas Longhornbull.Themassivebeast isangrilysnorting,pawingtheturf, andthreateningaprized

Thoroughbredstallion,Comanche.Josiahmaynothave muchknowledgeofcattle,butsherealizessnorting, pawing,andloweringtheheadaresignstogetoutofthe Longhorn'sway!Gettingthebulltocalmdownisno smalltaskandintheend,Josiahhasabustedfenceanda barndoorrippedoffitshinges.OncetheLonghornis secure,Josiahhurriestonotifythebull’sowneronlyto discoverthemanisdeadandlyinginapoolofhisown blood.

Thepolicenaturallyassumethebullisresponsibleforthe owner’sdeath,butJosiahhasherdoubts.Sheisconvinced foulplayisinvolvedandworkstosavetheTexas Longhornfrombeing“putdown.”Willshesolvethe murderandsavetheLonghornintime?

AbigailKeam isanaward-winningandAmazonbestsellingauthorwhowritestheJosiahReynoldsMystery SeriesaboutaSouthernbeekeeperturnedamateurfemale sleuth.Besideslovinghistory,Kentuckybourbonand chocolate,Abigailloveshoneybeesandformanyyears madeherlivingbysellinghoneyatafarmers’market.She isanaward-winningbeekeeperwhohaswonmanyhoney awardsattheKentuckyStateFairincludingtheBarbara HornAward,whichisgiventobeekeeperswhoratea perfect100inahoneycompetition.

Astrongsupporteroffarmers’marketsandlocalfood economy,MissAbigailhastakenherknowledgeof beekeepingtocreateafictionalbeekeepingprotagonist, JosiahReynolds,whosolvesmysteriesintheBluegrass. WhileMissAbigail’snovelsarefor enjoyment,shediscussesthe importanceofalocalsustainablefood economyandlandmanagementfor honeybeesandothercreatures.

ShecurrentlylivesontheKentucky Riverinametalhousewithher husbandandvariouscritters.

Shestillhashoneybees.

"AbigailKeamwriteswithvisionandunderstanding. Keamleavesthereaderyearningformore." -Midwest BookReview

SugarBabyandOther Storiesby River

Jordan

ThecharactersinShort BabyandOtherStoriesare infusedbydesire,touched bylove,andseeking retributionandredemption ateveryturn.SugarBabyis storytellingofthehighest order,pluckingupthe readerandtransporting themtoaworldofmystery, spirituality,violence,love, andeverythinginbetween.

"RiverJordanisaholytruth-tellerwhocanmakeeventhe badthingsinlifeseemassweetassugar.Thestoriesin SugarBabyandOtherStoriesareasrealaslifeitself,but thelanguageRiverusestocoatthepainissomethingfrom anotherworld.Writer,storyteller,hearthealer.River Jordanissimplythebest."

WileyCash,author, TheLast Ballad

TheCicadaTree by Robert Gwaltney

Thesummerof1956,abroodof cicadasdescendsuponProvidence, Georgia,anaturaleventwith supernaturalrepercussions, unhingingthelifeofAnaleise Newell,aneleven-year-oldpiano prodigy.Amidstthisemergence, darkobsessionsarestirred, uncannygiftsprovoked,and secretsunearthed.

"ThegothicbeautyofarelentlessGeorgiasummeris broughttolifethroughGwaltney'sdeliberatedetailsand exquisiteimagery,whileallthewhileevillurksbeneath thesurface;fromwhereorwhatthereaderdoesnotknow butisasconvincedbyGwaltney'sexpertstorytellingashe is."-ZoeFishman,bestsellingauthorofInvisibleAirand GeorgiaAuthoroftheYear2020

"Gwaltney'sSouthernGothic,THECICADATREE mesmerizesandseduces,thelanguageredolentand deadly,thecharacterssteepedinsecretsandmadness,and thewholeofitanenthrallingandperfectread.Easilymy favoritebookoftheyear."

-KimTaylorBlakemore, bestsellingauthorof AfterAliceFell

"Alexandraisbeguilingandalsodeeply connectedtoherspirituality,andher willingnesstotrustherintuition. Herquestfortruth,adeeperspiritual understandingandhersoulmatecreatealife thatisrichandfulloflessonsand experiencesthatwillcaptureyourheart! Thisisanovelthatoffersheartstopping moments,deeplifelessonsandthe enchantmentofaquestfortruelove.With jauntsfrompresenttopast,youwillbe unabletoputthisbookdown."RodineIsfeld, artistandeducator.

TooManyGoodbyes:ANovel ofAdventureandLove

GloriaCoppola

SoHappyTogether:ANovel

by DeborahK.Shepherd

Asherstultifyingmarriageis unravelling,andinthemidstof mourningthelossofhercreative self,CaroTannerhasanightmare aboutPeter,anoldlovewhomshe hasn’tseenintwentyyears.She takesthisasasignhestillneeds her.Withherthreechildrensafely offtosummercamp,Caroembarks onapre-Facebook,pre-cellphoneroadtriptorecapture whosheoncewasandwhatshethinkssheoncehad.

Setintherock‘nroll‘60sofTucson,Arizona—when CaroandPeterwerekooky,colorful,andinseparable dramastudents—andinthesuburban‘80s,whenCaro’s creativesparkhasbeenquenchedtoservetheneedsofher husbandandchildren,SoHappyTogetherexploresthe conundrumofloveandphysicalattraction,creativityand familyresponsibilities,andwhathappenswhentheyare outofsync.Itisastoryofmissedopportunities,the alluringpossibilityofsecondchances,andwhatweleave behind,carryforward,andsettleforwhenwechoose.It sitsinthatcomplicated,confounding,beautifulplace whereloveresides.

SharpasaSerpent'sTooth:Eva andOtherStories by Mandy Haynes

"I'lltellyouasecret,butyouhaveto promisenottotellnobody,"Evasays, intheveryfirststoryinMandy Haynes'secondcollectionofshort stories.Youwon'twanttoputthis bookdownfromthatsentenceon becauseMandyHaynes'fictionwill openyoureyesandsoftenyourheart. She'lltakeyoubythehandandshowyouhowwhatglints inthesunturnsdarkintheshadows.Shewritesaboutthe deepcontrastsinhumanity--thegood,thebad,theugly-andhowwemistreatoneanother,sometimesinhidden, vilewaysothersdon'tsuspect.Orisitthey'returningthe otherwaywhenithappens?MandyHaynesinhabitsa Tennesseevoiceasmuchassheinhabitstheplacesand creaturessurroundingitsmountains--everyoneand everythingshewritesaboutinallthesestoriesistoldin first-personpointofview,andhergiftisthatshehasyou there,too,insidethesecharacters'heads,butalways balancingthecrazywiththesane,truevoiceofayoung womanorgirlnarrator.IntrueSouthernGothictradition, SHARPASASERPENT'STOOTHisallofthisandmore.

Andyouwillfindyourselfwantingmore....”

Kathryn BrownRamsperger,authorof TheShoresofOurSouls

Recently,Ihadtheopportunitytositdownandchat withdebutnovelist, JeffreyDaleLofton,authorof RED CLAYSUZIE.JeffreyhailsfromWarmSprings,Georgia, andcurrentlyresidesinWashingtonDCwhereheworks assenioradvisorfortheLibraryofCongress.REDCLAY SUZIElaunchedJanuary10,2023andalreadyhasbeen awardedtheSevenHillsLiteraryPrizeforFictionalong withbeingnamedaLambdaLiteraryMostAnticipated Book.Jeffreyisanauthorontherise.

JustunderneaththetitleRedClaySuzie,Isee“anovel inspiredbytrueevents.”Isthisbookathinlydisguised memoirofgrowingupgayintheDeepSouth?

Yes,tousealiteraryterm, RedClaySuzie isa fictionalizedmemoir.Agooddealofwhathappenstomy protagonist,Philbet,happenedtome,borngaywitha significantskeletaldeformityofthechestinWarm Springs,Georgia.AndlikePhilbet’sfamily,minewas simplynotequippedtounderstand,toguide,toshapea littlekidlikeme.Idon’tmeantosuggestwillfulneglect;it wasmorelikeparentinginformedbyequalmeasuresof love,ignorance,andfear—wellperhapsabitmorefear thantheothertwo.

Itwasdifficultinthebestoftimes,becauseIknewearly onthatIwasdifferentonboththeinsideandtheoutside.I feltalien,onthefringesoflife,inmysmalltowninrural Georgia,tryingtomakesenseofaworldthatdidnot

squarewithmyinnerthoughtsandfeelings.

Attheriskofrevealingtoomuch,I’llgiveyouan exampleof“inspiredbytrueevents.”LikePhilbet’s daddy,myownfatherwasshotintheheadbreakingupa domesticdisputeacrosstheroadfromourhouseata fillingstation/conveniencestorethatwasourTimes Square.Someofthedetailssurroundingthathorrific experiencearechanged,butthecoreeventistrue.And that’swhyIthinkof RedClaySuzie asanovelbasedon fact,butnotboundbyfact.

Philbetisobsessedwithcars?Isthisanothersimilarity withyourprotagonist?

Yes,IhavelovedcarsforaslongasIcanremember. AndlikePhilbet,itstartedwithMatchboxcarsgivento mebymyparentsonbirthdays,Christmas,andanytimeI couldbadgerthemintobuyingoneofthosedie-cut wondersformeatourlocalstore.TothisdayIcantell youtheyear,themake,andthemodelofacarbycatching thebriefestglance.Mypartner,Erich,whohaslittle interestinmovingvehiclesofanysort,claimsI’macarsavant.Andperhapshe’sright,evenclinically,ifthereis suchathing.Myideaofasplendidafternoonistowander anoutdoorcarlot—new,used,itdoesn’tmatter.Justbeing amongthemiswhatcounts.Theyspeakofmeandalways have.

I’vereadthatyouwrote RedClaySuzie inasurprising way.Sharealittlebitaboutthat.

Ibeganwriting RedClaySuzie, asitturnsout,justafter IlefthometoattendLaGrangeCollege,asmallliberalarts institutioninLaGrange,Georgia.Tomyteenageself,the collegeandthetown’sgreatestassetswerethatthey wereawayfromhome,althoughintruthamere35miles downtheroad.

Ihadyearsofpent-upfrustration,humiliation, confusionand,yes,angerinsidemethatneededanoutlet. Asagay,physicallymisshapen,effeminate,andslightof buildchild—ayoung’unaswewerecalled—Ihadbeena walkingtargetofderisionandbullyingasearlyasfouror fiveyearsold.Livingathomehadtheeffectofpushing downanyrealmeasureofprocessingthecomplicated fabricofmyboyhood,butonceawayatcollege,thedam broke,andIwasfloodedwithvivid,white-hotmemories ofmyperfectlyimperfectfamilyandmyboyhoodand teenagefriends,allofwhomhadplayedformativerolesin themosaicofmylifeuptothatpoint.

Itooktofuriouslyscribblingmymemories,my thoughts,mystream-of-consciousnessangstinnotebooks. Itwasanexorcismbyexposition.Iwrotetoexpunge.And forawhileitwasasalve,asteroidcreamonopenwounds. Andthenstuffgotintheway—principallyschoolwork andmypreoccupationwithdisguisingmysunkenchest underlayersoflinenshirtsandsweaters,noeasytaskin

hot-as-blazesGeorgia.Iputmyjournalsawaywithevery intentionofcontinuingtowritetopouroutmyhearton theirpagesafterIgotmycollegesealegs.ButIdidn’t openthemagainforabout30years.

AndthenIread CallMeByYourName andreread To KillAMockingbird insuccession,andsomethinginside mebrokeopen.That’sthepowerofthewrittenorspoken word.Iwasmovedtogoinsearchofthosenotebooks (foundinanatticbox)andreadthem,immersingmyself onceagaininthoserawemotions.Andbythethirdjournal Istartedtothinktheremightbeanovelinthere somewhere.Sowiththatinspiration,Istartedtowrite, improbably,onmymobiletelephoneonthesubway commutingtoandfrommyjobattheLibraryofCongress inWashington,DC.

Ididn’tsayawordaboutittoanyoneuntilthedraftwas completeend-to-end.WhenItoldmypartnerover breakfastonemorning,hisheadstuckin TheWashington Post,thatI’dwrittenanovel.Atfirsthesaid,“Yes,dear, ofcourseyoudid,”notlookingupfromhispaper.Then whenIrepeateditratheremphatically,henearlyspatout hiscoffee.ItwasamomentI’llalwaystreasure.

TheAuthor’sNoteinthebookaddressesbullyingand body-shaming.Howis RedClaySuzie amessageof hopetoyoungadultswhofeelmarginalized?

RedClaySuzie isintendedtobeamessageofhardfoughtself-acceptanceachievedoverachildhoodofbodyblowrejectionandintentionalandunintentionalbullying. Therewerenobookslike RedClaySuzie whenIwas growingup,atleastnotonthebookmobilethatmagically appearedatthefillingstation/conveniencestoreacrossthe roadfromourcinderblockhouse.Butfulltransparency, forthelongesttimeIdidn’tthinkofitasanykindof message,perse,toanyone—justastorybasedonmylife experiences,ahealingcatharsisifyouwill.Lookingback, IsupposeIwaswritingPartThree(thenovel’sdivided intothreeparts)whenitoccurredtomethat RedClay

Suzie mightbearoadmapforkidslivingonthefringes, myfellowfringiesasIthinkofthem.

Thatthoughtdidn’tchangemyapproachtowriting,but itputtheexperienceintoaverydifferentcontextthan beforethatrealization.

OneofthemostbestreactionsI’vegottencamefrom PeteCrosstheaward-winningvoiceactorwhonarrated the RedClaySuzie audio-book.Hereachedouttomeafter hehadcompletedtherecordingsessionsandsaid,“Iwish I’dhadRedClaySuzieorabooklikeittoreadwhenI wasgrowingup.Itwouldhavemadeallthedifference.” Thereisnohigherpraise.

Whatgaveyouthecouragetowritesuchadeeply personalandrevealingnovel?

Idon’tthinkittookcouragetowrite RedClaySuzie; writing RedClaySuzie hasgivenmecourage.Letme explain.Theprocessofrelivingthosesometimespainful andsometimesmovingexperiencesofmyearlylifeinthe courseofwritingmynovelhascontributedinapositive waytothelife-longjourneywealltakegetting comfortableinourownskin—acceptingourselveswithall ourfaultsandimperfections,includingourphysical imperfections.Somewherealongthatpathweoftengain confidence,andwithconfidencecomescourage.

GivinglifetoPhilbetandGrandaddyandMamaand KnoxandJames—andalltheothercharacterswhoinhabit Philbet’sworld—hashelpedmefullyacceptmyself.So it’sbeenlikeasecondcomingout.WhenItoldmyparents thatIwasgayoverthirtyyearsago,Icriedandfelt ashamed.Andtheywereashamed...ashamedofme. Now,Inthissecondcomingout,I’mnotcrying,andI’m notashamed.Infact,I’mproud.AndIhave RedClay Suzie inparttothankforthat.

YouaredonatingaportionofyourproceedsfromRed ClaySuzietotwoorganizationsthathelpat-riskyouth. Wouldyoutellusaboutthat?

Ihavelongbeenafanoftheimportantworkbeingdone everydaybytwoorganizationsdedicatedtohelpingatriskyouth:theBornThisWayFoundation(https:// bornthisway.foundation/),foundedbyLadyGagaandher

motherCynthiaGermanotta,andTheTrevorProject (thetrevorproject.org),theworld’slargestsuicide preventionandcrisisinterventionorganizationfor LGBTQ+youngpeople.So,Idecidedtodonateaportion ofwhatImakefromthesaleof RedClaySuzie tosupport theireffortstohelpatriskkidswhostruggleasoutsiders, likeIdid,tryingtofindawaytoleadahappyand productivelife.

RobertGwaltney, awardwinningauthorofsouthernfiction,isa graduateofFloridaStateUniversity.HeresidesinAtlanta Georgiawithhispartner,whereheisanactivememberofthe Atlantaliterarycommunity.Robert’sworkhasappearedinsuch publicationsasTheSignalMountainReviewandTheDeadMule SchoolofSouthernLiterature.Hisdebutnovel,TheCicadaTree, wontheSomersetAwardforliteraryfiction.

AHardDog WillMaguire

WhenIlivedupinEastNashvilletherewasapackof abandoneddogsthatranthatpartoftowneachnight.My streetdead-endedagainstthehighwayandtheywould gathertogetherandlistentothesoundoftiresonthe asphaltalltryingtogetsomeplaceelse.

Iworkedasalinemanfortheelectriccompany, upgradingwiresandboxesandrepairingdowncablewhen thewindblewhard.Thatspringthewindkeptpullingitall down.

Iwasthekindofguythatdidmy8and40and365,then camehomeandtriedtofindsomereliefintheovertime betweenshifts.TheneachdawnIwouldclimbintomy rustytruckandgoouttryingtorepairwhatevergottorn downinthedarkness.

ThatyearImetthisgirl,akindofstray,andeventually shemovedin.IguessIwastryingtosaveherormaybe justmyself.Iaskedheracoupletimestomarryme.But shealwayssaidsheneededmoretime,whichisWoman forNo.ButIdidn’tspeakWoman,soIneverreally understood.

IguessIthoughtIcouldwearherdownwithkindness

andsupport.Ihopedthattheglideoflivingwouldmake thedecisionforherandthatonedaythevowswouldhave alreadybeenmadewithoutwords.

Eachnightfromtheporchshewatchedthedogsrunthe streetandeventuallycoaxedoneintotheyard.Itwasone ofthoserescuedogsthatsomeonehadstoppedfeeding whentheyhadtochoosebetweenmilkforthekidsordog food.Apitbullmix,thekindwiththejawsthatlockonand neverletgo.

Therearepacksofabandonedstraysalloverthatpartof townifyouknowhowtolook.Theyrunthestreetslateat night.Theycurlupindeadendsdownbythehighway,in oldbarnsandalleywaysandneattownhouseswithfresh paint.Allkinds.Fourlegged.Eventwolegged.

Shefedandcleanedandloveditandeventually convincedmetoadoptit.Shecookedandcleanedand lovedmetoo,butitwasthekindoflovewheretheline wasdrawninherself.Andshestayedwellinsideits margin.

Thatneverworks.Thatboundarykindoflove.Butfora timeitseemed,likeitalwaysdoes,thatitmight.

IwasfullupwiththatMight.IthelpswithalltheWon’t thatyouhavetolookateachday.Withmeitwasthe MightBeHappy,theMightBeLoved,thatoldMightBe RightthatWrongtriesendlesslytowringoutofitself.

EachdayIwouldgetupandgooutand,inmyown way,trytofixtheworld.ThenIwouldcomehometothe straygirlandtheabandoneddogandpraytoGodthatI couldfixherandthatshecouldfixme.

ThewindblowshardinthespringandthatAprila stormblewin.Abadone.Andthewindsoundedjustlike thecarsonthehighwaybeyondthedeadend.Theycalled meinthemiddleofonedarknight.Powerwasoutallover andtheywantedmeoncemoretofixtheworld.

Thatnightshestoodatthedoorandwatchedmytaillightsvanishintothedark.Iguessshestartedlistening hardtothesoundofthestormandthesoundofthe highwayliketheywerethesamething.

Laterthatmorningshepackedupherminivan,lefta noteanddroveGodknowswhereupI-65,headedfor Might,Texas,orHopeSprings,Arkansas.Isupposeallshe wantedwasanyotherplaceoranyothersomeonetomake herstrayheartfeeldeeperthanthemarginshewas tiptoeingaroundwithme.

SomekindofMightBeLovedorMightBePlacethat alwayswaitsattheotherendofathousandmiles.

Sheleftthefurniture.Butshetookeverythingelse. Everythingexceptsomekindofempty.Sheleftalotof that.Andsheleftthedog.

Icamehomeandfoundthenoteandthedogandthe empty.AndforafewweeksallIcouldhearwasthatquiet clangingaroundinsidetheemptyofthathouse.Thekind ofquietthatemptymakes.

You’veheardit.Yousitinthedarkandlistenashardas youcantoeverythingyoueversaidandwonderwhich wordwaswrong.Andwhichsilencewasthekindthatgot inthedoorandgrewinsidethesheetrockuntilitchoked downeverythingyoueverwantedtosay.

Youlistentothecarspassingonthehighwayuntileach oneisfulloftheMightBeHer.Andyouwatchthe abandonedstraysrunthestreetsatnightlisteningforthat soundoftiresandasphaltandhopeuntilthatchorus chasesyoudownintosleep.

WhenIwenttoworkIcouldn’tleavethedoginthe housesoIputitoutintheyardonaspikeandtwo-footof chain.Theneighborssaidalldaylongthedogwouldjump againstthatchain,justlikeaheartbeat,surethatthenext leaporthenext,orthenext,wouldbetheonethatwould finallyfreeit.

AndatnightsometimesinthedarkIwouldhearit howl.

AfteramonthIdecidedthatshewasgoodandgone. Somehighwaysonlyrunoneway.WhywouldIkeepthis abandoneddog?Itwasn’tmine.Itwashersandshewasn’t circlingback.Notinanyplacebutmydreams.

Onedayinsteadofchainingitup,Icutitloose,and everytimethedogcamebackintotheyardIwouldthrow coldwateronit.Sometimeskickit,likeIwastryingto drivememoryaway.Theneighborsshooktheirheadsand lookedtheotherway.

Painalwaystriestofindawayoutandcrueltyisalmost alwaysthefirstroute.

Afteraweekthedogquitcomingback.Thehowling stoppedforatime.Andthequietdriftedbackoverthe houselikeafog.

Hebecame,onceagain,oneofthosedogsyouseeon thestreetssometimes.Abandonedstrays,ribsstickingout,

lonesomehungrylookintheireyes,tryingwithalltheir mighttounderstandwhattheydidsowrong.How everythingtheyeverknewofloveandhappinesshad cometothis.

SometimesontheweekendIwouldgoouttothebars. Staringatmyfaceinamen’sroommirrorIsawthatsame lonesomelook,thatsamehungerandconfusionatthe bottomofmyself.Wanderingthroughthedarklikesome partofmehadbeenabandoned,too.

Anoldwomanonthecornertookpityonthedogand fedhimtablescraps.Soeacheveninghewouldturnupon thestreet,wolfdownwhatevershegavehim,andsit shiveringattheedgeofheryardlookingdownathisold porchandallheeverknewoflove.

ThenlateatnightwhenhewassureIwasasleephe wouldrisetoitsfeetandslowlycreeptowardthehouse. There’sadeckonthebackwhereheusedtowaitfor her.Aporchreally,andthenabovetheporchastoopthat leduptothebackdoor.

DogsmusthavetheirownkindofMightbecauselate eachnighthewouldcreepupontothedeckandtenderly crawlupthoselastfewstepsontothestoopandlean againstthedoor.LikehewastryingtogetintoWhatWas. Thatdoorisalwayslocked,though.WhatWasisrusted shut.It’llneveropenagain.

Andaloneeachnight,justoutsidethehouse,thatdog wouldhowl.Akindoflowmoanthatwouldwakemeand fillmewithpity.

Thereisakindofdoorthatcanneveropen.Thereisa

kindofwoundthatonlydeepensintime.Andthereisa kindofMightthatcan’teverfinditswaydownontothe highwaysoitkeepscirclingaroundandaround,howling likeawind,tryingtoreachwhatusedtobe.

Itriedtochasehimoff.Butthatdogalwayscameback. Someoftheneighborscomplainedbutwhentheyknocked onmydoorandlookedintomyeyestheycouldhearthat howlingthere,too.

Andmovedtopity,theyloweredtheireyesandsaid nothing.Isupposetheyrolledoveratnightandtriedto forgettherewasthatkindofhowlandthatkindofquietin theworldspinningaroundeachothersoclosetothem.

Andtheytriedtopretendtherewasneveranythingonthe streetsthatcouldlockitsjawsontheirhearts,too,and neverletgo.

Walkingbyoneevening,aneighborstopped.Iwas rakingtheyardbythestake.Heaskedaboutthedogand thehowlingatnight.

“That’saharddog.”Isaid.“TriedeverythingIcouldto runitoff.Keepscomingback.Everynight.”

“Aharddog,”themanmurmured.

“Yes,”Ianswered,“aharddogtokeepoffyourstoop.”

ButIwasn’ttalkingjustaboutthatoldhoundanymore. Thereareotherthingsinthisworldthatkeepcircling round.Thatclimbupontoyourporchinthemiddleofthe night,tryingtogetintoWhatWas.

Doubthowls.Sodoesneed.Andthere’sakindoflove thathowls,too.Thatabandonedstraykindoflove.Likea

pitbull,itlocksitsjawsdowntightonsomepartofyou, andwon’teverletgo.

Justthenacrossthestreetapackofstraysscurriedby. Amongthemwasherdog.Hepausedforamomentand staredatthehouse,thenturnedandranwiththeothers backintotheshadows.

Isettherakedownandstaredatthehouse,too.And thatoldemptyfilledthequietoncemore.

“Aharddog,”Iwhispered.Theneighbornoddedand turnedaway.

Thatnight,oncemore,thewindblewhardandthelines camedown.WhenIgotthecall,Isawthattheabandoned strayhaddesertedthestoop.Probablydrawntothehumof thetiresgoinganywhereelse,madehiswaydownbythe highway.AndIhopedonceagainthatmaybetheold houndMightBeGoneforgood.

Downneartheonramphemusthaveclosedhiseyes andthoughtoncemoreofthegirlandwhatwasgoneand triedtobelieve,justlikeme,thatwhatwastakenmight somedayreturn.

Atractortrailer,gassedup,thedriverdog-tiredandstill acouplehoursbehindschedule,sawthedogtoolate.

Whenheheardthecrylikeachildinpain,hecursedand spunthewheelandthewoundedanimallimpedaway beforecollapsingontheshoulder.

IwasheadedtoworkwhenIsawthemandpulledover. “Didn’tseehim,"thedriversaid."Clippedhimgood." Onelegwasbroken.

“There’splentyofthemstraystotakeitsplace,”hesaid, glancingatit,thenstaringattheinterstate.Thenlookingat itsribsshowing,said,“HellI’mprobablydoingitafavor anyway.”

Hemutteredaprayerthatsoundedjustlikeacurseand startedtodragitbackawayintotheweeds.

Theharddogcriedandpleadedwithhiseyes,then, resigned,letoutahowlthatsentashiverthroughusboth. Thedriverstoppedwhathewasdoing.“I’mlateasitis. Can’tdonothingforhimanyway.NotlikeImeantit.Just oneofthemthings.”Hespatontheground.“Ican’twait aroundandlosetheday,Mister.Ineedthisjob.It’llbemy ass.”

Then,ashamed,helookedupintomyface“Ilove dogs,”hesaid“Ido.”

Isteppedcloser.

“Youknowwhothisbelongsto?”thedriverasked.

“Owner’slonggone,”Isaid.

Mercyishardtofigure.I’dhavedoneanythingtoberid ofthatdog.Butlookingathimthere,allIcouldfeelwas thehurtandthehowldownatthebottomofusboth.Like wewerenearlysomehowthesame.Likesomethinggot brokeinusbothandwastryingtopullusbackintothe weeds.Bothbustedupfromgettingneartowhatwe needed.Fromwantingandlosing.Bothofushowlingin theonlywayweknewhow.

AsIreacheddownandtouchedtheleghewhimpered. AndIthoughtmaybeifIcouldhealhimupthehowling

mightfinallystopinme.

“Don’tbelongtonobodyanymore,”Isaid.“ButI’ll takehim.”

Thedriverlookedrelievedandpretendedthathehad doneallhecould,andhehelpedlifthimintomytruck.

Backhome,thefrontdoorwastoonarrowsoIswung aroundback.Thedoglookedupatmeandthenatthe porch,afraid.Likewantingsomethingforsolonggottoo near.

Iwentaroundtothefrontandtriedtounlocktheback door.ThatoldWhatWasdoorthatheleanedupagainst eachnight.Ithadbeensolongthatthehingeswererusted shutSoIputashoulderintoitandbangedonittillit opened.

ThenIcarriedthatharddogupontotheporch.Igently sethimdown.Hestaredattheopendoor,turnedand lookedatme,thenstruggledtowardthestoopbutfellon thesecondstep.Icaughtandliftedhim. Andtogetherwewentin.

Thedogsleptbythebed,eyesclosedandwhimpering initssleep.Chasingsomethinginitsdreams,Isuppose.

Thatnight,onceagain,thememoryofherstartedin howlingatme.Thedoubtandtheneedandthelove,too, allhowlingtogethersomeplaceinmethat,alone,Icould neverreachtoheal.

Thatharddoglistenedinthedark,likeheknewwhatit wastorememberandtofeel.Likeheknewwhatlovefelt likeandthespaceitleaveswhenit’scutoutofyou.

Hestruggledtohisfeet,draggedhimselfuponthebed, andlaydownonherside.Sometimeinthedarkofthat night,helaidapawonmyarm.

Then,whimpering,heputhisheadonmychestlikehe washearingthehowlinthere,too.Liketherewasahard dogonsomestoopofmyheartthatonlyhecould understand.

Thatonlyhecouldreach. Thatonlyhecouldheal.

WillMaguireisawriterandsongwriterlivingin Nashville,Tennessee.Hismostrecentshortstories, “HigherPower”and“Unisphere,”haveappearedinThe SaturdayEveningPost.

Willsayssometimesstoryandmusiccometogetherfor him.Hesentthiscliptomeasabonus.Hedidn’texpect metoincludeit,butwithhispermissionI’veaddedalink tothesongwrittenversionbecauseitwastoogoodnotto share.

Clickheretohearthesong,AHardDog,byWillMaguire

EvolutionofLove

RobbGrindstaff

Inthebeginning,shetookaseatatasmalltableacross fromtheman.Helookednice.Thirties,aboutherage. Glasses,shorthair,cleancut.Shecouldn’tquitebring herselftomakeeyecontactassheadjustedinherchair.

“So,”shesaid,“we’vegot,what,threeminutes,right? Isthathowthisworks?”

“Yourfirsttimeatspeed-datingtoo,Isee.Good.Iwas afraidI’dlooklikeacompleteidiotifmyfirstdatewas experiencedatthissortofthing.”

Hesmiledather.Shelikedhissmileandfinallymethis eyes,thenglancedathisnametag.

“Hi,Steven.I’mDempsey.”

Hisgazedrifteddowntohernametag,asiftoverify herassertionorpossiblytocheckthespelling.Shegota lotofrequeststorepeathernameortospellit.Perhapsa bitunusualforagirl’sname,butherparentswerethe unusualtype.

“Hi,Dempsey.It’snicetomeetyou.Andplease,callme Steve.”

“Okay,Steve,sowhatdowetalkaboutinourthree

minutesbeforeweuseitallupwithintroductions?”

“Ihavenoidea,”hechuckled.“I’veneverreallybeen greatatconversationwhenIfirstmeetsomeone,soIdon’t knowwhyIthoughthavingatimedeventwouldhelp. MaybejustknowingifIcouldn’tthinkofanythingtosay, there’dbenomorethanthreeminutesofuncomfortable silence.”

“I’mtheopposite.EspeciallyifI’mnervous,it’shardto shutmeup.Ijuststartbabblingtofillgaps.Sorelax, you’llbefine.Noawkwardsilenceswithmeintheroom.”

Sheforcedherselftostoptalkingforamoment.The awkwardsilencedescended.

“Tellme,Steve,whatdoyoudoforwork?”Shetriedto rememberthethreebasicquestionsshehadchosentoask every‘date’thisevening.Shewantedtolearnsomething abouteachperson,butmainlyshewantedtoaskandlisten ratherthanramblingonaboutnothingandthethree minuteswouldbeoverwithoutherdategettinginasingle word.Shedidn’tnormally,butifinanuncomfortable situation,orinthepresenceofsomeonewhowasnervous, shewouldchatternonstop.

Steveclearedhisthroatandtookasipofwaterbefore answering.Verymethodical,shethought.Asignof intelligence,rationality.

“I’mascientist,”hesaid.“Moreprecisely,aresearch microbiologist.Butthat’stooboringtotalkabouthere.I can’tevenexplainitinthreeminutes.Whataboutyou?”

“I’mapediatricnurseatthechildren’scancercenter.”

“Thatmustbeterriblyhard,youknow,todealwith

childrenwhoaresosick,especiallywhenonedies.Ireally admirethat,butIcouldn’tdoit.Ilikedealingwith microbes.Wow,Iprobablyjustsoundedveryuncaringand insensitive,didn’tI?”

“Notatall,”shereassuredhimandreachedovertopat thebackofhishand,whichstillgrippedhiswaterglass likeatrapezebar.“Maybeitmeansyou’retoosensitive, thatyouwouldhavedifficultydealingwithdeath.”

“Howdoyoudealwiththat?”

“Myfaithgetsmethroughtheroughtimes.Faiththat theywillgetbetter,andfaiththatthosewhodon’tget bettergotoabetterplace.Godgivesmethestrengthto keepsmilingandIalwaystrytogiveeachchildhope.”

Stevetookanothersipofwater.Shewasn’tsureifhe wasthirstyorifthatwasanexcusetowithdrawhishand fromhertouch.ThelookonhisfacetoldDempseyshe’d gonetoofar.She’dalreadydeviatedfromherplanby bringingupreligioninthefirstminute.Hesquirmeda littleandglancedatthetimer.Shejumpedstraighttoher secondquestiontobreakthetwosecondsofsilenceand deflectattentionawayfromanuncomfortablesubject.

“Whatdoyoudoforfuninyoursparetime?”

“Isupposethat’swhyI’mhere.Ihaven’thadanyspare timeinsolong,Ihaven’tevenhadtimetomeetpeople, women,youknow,todateorbecomefriendsorhave relationships.Besidesmyresearchinthelab,Iwrite articlesforresearchjournalsorparticipateinpanel discussionsatinstitutesorattendseminars.ButI’ve completedmyPhDnow,andI’vegotatenuredposition,

andIrealizedlifewasgoingtopassmebyifIdidn’tstart gettingout.Acoworkerrecommendedthisasawayto jumprightintothedeepend,sotospeak.”

“Yeah,Idefinitelythinkwe’reinthedeependofthe datingpoolhere.”Shelookedaroundtheroomattheother couples—someinanimated,livelydiscussions,some glancingaroundtheroominagonyovereachticking second.“ButIthinkwe’redoingfine,keepingourheads abovewater.Don’tyouthink?”

Heagreed.

Theirtimeranoutandtheemceeblewawhistleto signalallthementomovetothetabletotheirimmediate right.Shedidn’thaveachancetoaskherthirdquestion.

“It’sgreattomeetyou,Steve.”

Hetookherextendedhandandshookitgently.Hehad softhandsandkindeyes.Dempseylikedsomethingabout him.Toobadshe’dblownitwithallherGod-talk.Even thoughhewasherfirstspeed-datepartner,andshehad nineteenmoretogoovertherestofthehour,shedidn’t hesitatetoplaceacheckmarkbesidehisnameontheform inherhand.Heprobablydidn’tdothesameinreturn, whichmeanttherewouldbenoexchangeofphone numbersoremailaddressesoranywaytogetintouch withhimagain.

Dempseysettledinfortherestoftheevent,sometimes gettingthroughallthreeofherquestionswithplentyof timetospare,sometimesnotevenneedingherquestionsto keeptheconversationflowing.

Onemanwaswaytoooldforher.Afewweretoo

young.Some,shecouldtellimmediately,weren’ttheleast bitinterestedinher.Dempseywasquitecomfortablein herskin,andsheknewshewaspretty,inaslightly overweightgirl-next-doorkindofway,butshewasn’t ‘hot,’whichwasokaywithher.Theguyslookingforhot wouldhavetosufferthroughthreeminuteswiththetaller thanaverage,big-bonedgirlwiththebeautifulcotton candyblondhair,herbestfeature.

SeveralmenseemedveryinterestedinDempsey,but shewasn’tinterestedinthem.Itmadeherfeelshallowand hypocriticaltoadmitshedidn’tfindthemphysically attractive.Onemanhadyellowteethandhishalitosis waftedacrossthetable.Shehadtoleanbackinherchair, whichshethoughtprobablymadeherseemverystandoffish.

Thenightendedwithonlytheonecheck-markonher form.IfStevedidn’tcheckhernametoo,hernightwould turnoutatotalwaste.

Onthesecondday,hercellphonerangjustasshe finishedputtingawaythelastofherdinnerdishes. Steve.

“I’mreallygladIwentbecauseImetyou,”Dempsey saidoverdinnerontheirseconddate,“butIwillnever, everdospeed-datingagain.Itwasahorribleexperience. Notfun.”

Stevelaughed.Hehadaheartylaugh,Dempsey thought,andhe’ddefinitelyrelaxedmoreandtalked

easily.He’dseemedmorenervousontheirfirstrealdate thanduringtheirinitialencounter.

“Yeah,”heagreed.“Icould’vestoppedafterthefirst threeminutesandbeendonefortheevening.Yourswas theonlynameIchecked.It’sdefinitelynotforme.Butit workedoutquitewellthatweconnected.Anditwasthe firsttimeforbothofus,andwewerepaireduponthefirst round.Sorandom.”

“Idon’tknowifitwasrandom,”Dempseysaid. “Thingsalwayshaveawayofworkingoutforthebest, don’tyouthink?” ***

Theyneversaiditoutloud,butbytheirfourthdate, theybothknewtheywereinanexclusiverelationship,just takingthingsveryslowly.Notthateitherofthemhad otherprospectsqueuedup.Stevecalledhertosaygood morningatseveneachweekday,knowingshewouldbe sittingonherpatioreadingthenewspaperandhaving coffee,gettingreadyforherworkday.Theywouldchatfor tenminutesbeforehehadtosaygoodbyeandbeginhis commutetowork.

Shecalledhimonherlunchbreakeveryafternoon.

Hetoldherallabouthiswork.Hesaiditwasgreatto havesomeonetotalktoaboutitwhowasn’tanother scientistbutwhocouldunderstandtheconceptshewasso thrilledtoanalyzeeachday.Dempsey’snursing backgroundmadehertheperfectpersonforthis.Hedidn’t havetooversimplifythingsforhertounderstand,andher genuineinterestandintelligentquestionscouldkeephim

talkingabouthislatestfindingsforhours.Whenhe apologizedforgoingonandonabouthisresearch,she wavedherhanddismissivelyandaskedanotherinsightful question.

***

Shecalledhimontheafternoonbeforetheirsixthdate, intears,tocancelthatnight’splansforamovie.She wouldn’tbegoodcompanytonight,sheexplainedthrough hersobs.She’dlostapreciouslittleonefromherfloorthat day.

Stevearrivedatherdoorstepwithinhalfanhour, uninvited,withabouquetofflowersandaboxoftissue— gift-wrapped.TheysatonDempsey’scouchandheheld herwhileshetoldhimallaboutlittleTalia,whonever complained,alwayssmiled,wholettheotherkidsdraw pictureswithwashablemarkersonhersmoothscalp.

StevekissedDempseythatnightforthefirsttime.When she’dsobbedherselfhoarse,exhausted,hetuckedherinto bedandkissedheragainbeforeturningoutthelight, feedinghercat,andlockingthedoorbehindhimasheleft. Hecalledatseventhenextmorningtoseehowshewas doing.

“Fine,”shesaid.“I’mmuchbetternow.Taliawassuch agift,andI’mjustsoblessedtohavehadherinmylife forafewmonths.Thankyouforbeingwithmelastnight.

Ineededthat,anditmeansalottome.Oh,andthanksfor feedingKitteh.”

***

StevecookedforDempseyonSaturdayafternoonathis

place.Agourmetmeal.Shehadnoideahewasanamateur chef—professionalquality.Thepecan-crustedsalmon, flakyandfirm,bastedhertongueinamyriadofdelicate flavors.Whiteasparagusspears—spargel,hecalledit— importedfromGermany,whichhesteamedtoperfection, withawhitecreamsaucewhichperfectlycomplemented thesalmon.Awildricewithtruffles.Dempseyhadnever eatentrufflesbefore.Sheknewwhattheywere,andshe knewtheywereexpensive.Shelearnedtheywere deliciousbeyondanythingshe’dimagined.

Theysatonthecouchwithaglassoffinewineand kissedforhoursbeforeshefinallypulledherselfaway.

“Ihavetogetupearlytomorrow.Ishouldgo.”

“Youdon’tworktomorrow.”

“I’mfillinginasasubstituteSundayschoolteacherfor firstgraderstomorrow.Youcouldcometochurchwithme, ifyouwant.”

Stevepouredhimselfanotherglassofwineand chuckled.“Nothanks.That’snotreallyforme.”

Tuesdaynight,SteveonceagainheldDempseyasshe cried,thistimeoverlittleBradley,threeyearsofage.

“Atleasthe’snotinpainanymore,”shesaid.

“Idon’tunderstand,”Stevesaidonceshehadsettled intoacceptance.“HowcanyoubelieveinGodwhenyou seethesechildrensufferingeveryday?”

“IbelievewhenIseethejoyandloveintheirfaces despitetheirtroubles.IbelievewhenIseethemiraclesof healingeveryday.AndIhavetobelievethatwhenwelose

one,they’vegonetoheaven.HowcouldIseethisevery dayandnotbelieve?”

“SoyoubelieveinaGodwhowouldstrikeinnocent childrenwithhorriblediseases,thenthankhimwhen modernsciencecuresone,andthankhimwhenonedies becausehe’snolongersuffering.Ijusthavetrouble wrappingmyheadaroundthatlogic.”

“AndyoubelieveinaGodwhoisinherentlyevil, inflictingchildrenwithillness,andyouthinkit’supto sciencetocometotherescueandsavethem.”

“That’snotwhatIsaid.”Stevestoodandpacedback andforthinDempsey’slivingroom.“That’snotwhatI believe.”

Thisisourfirstfight,Dempseythoughtasshetriedto swallowheranger.

“Whatexactlydoyoubelievein?”

“IbelieveinwhatIcansee,”Stevesaid.“WhatIcan measure.”

“Thesemicrobesyoustudy,themicroscopeyouseeand measurethemwith,beforethatmicroscopewasinvented, beforescientistscouldseethem,didthosemicrobes exist?”

“Ofcourse.Wejustdidn’tknowaboutthemyet.”

“Soeventhoughyoucouldn’tseethem,theystill existed?”

“Iknowthepointyou’retryingtomake,butthat’snot thesame.”

Stevedidn’tcallDempseyatseventhenextmorning.

Dempseydidn’tcallSteveduringherlunchbreak.Steve didn’tcallDempseythatevening.

Heshowedupatherdoorstepwithoutcallingfirst.

“I’msorry,”hesaid.“Idon’twanttofightanymore.”

Dempseypulledhiminsidewithkissesuntilthey collapsedonthecouch.Theydidn’tcomeupforairuntil KittehjumpedonSteve’sheadandscratchedhisear.

“Cometomylabonyournextdayoff.Ihavesomething Iwanttoshowyou.”

Dempseysquintedandadjustedandtriedtofocusonthe translucentgraysquiggle.

“WhatamIlookingat?WhatamIsupposedtobe seeing?”

“It’sanewbacterium.”

“You’vediscoveredanewgerm?”

“Notdiscovered.Invented.Created.Wemadeitright here.WesplicedtheDNAfromtwodifferentbacteriaand createdthisone.”

“Ifthisthingescapes,couldn’titcauseaworldwide epidemic,likeinthatmovie?”

“No.”Stevelaughed.“It’sstrictlybeneficial.Andthis onewon’treproduce.Notyetanyway.Whenweperfect thesequencing,itwill.Thisisjustaprototype,butwe’re workingtowarddesigningonethatwilleatcancercells andleavehealthycellsalone.Whentherearenomore cancercells,theywouldstopreproducinganddieoff.”

Dempseypulledawayfromtheeyepieceofthe microscopeandgrinnedatSteve.

“Soundskindoflikehigh-techleechtherapy.”

“Yeah,Iguessitis.”

TheysatonDempsey’spatiothateveningandSteve grilledhamburgers.Notanyoldhamburgers.Hamburgers withbleucheesecrumblesmixedinwiththemeat,topped withfreshspinachleaves.

“CometothehospitalwithmethisSaturday.Iwantyou tomeetsomeofthekidsyourworkwillhelp.”

“I’mnotsureourworkwillbereadyintimetohelpany ofyourpatients.”

“Comeanyway.Maybethey’llinspireyoutowork faster.”

“I’mnotreallythatgoodwithchildren.”

“Thinkofthemasamoebas.”

Marissa,atfifteen,wasbyfartheoldest.Sheworea Diamondbacksbaseballcapwhichdidn’treallyhideher hairloss.Infact,sheworeitsidewaysandcockedatan angle.Itwasherfashionstatement,notacover-up.

“He’skindacute,”MarissawhisperedtoDempsey. “Nicebutttoo.”

“Donotbelookingatmyboyfriend’sbutt,”Dempsey scoldedherwithagrin.She’djustcalledSteve‘my boyfriend’forthefirsttime.“Andyeah,hedoeshavea nicelittletushie,doesn’the?”

MarissastayedatDempsey’sside,asshealwaysdid. ShehelpedDempseywithalltheyoungerones,keeping themhappy,makingsuretheyhadwaterorjuice, refereeingtheoccasionalfussoverwhowasplayingwith

whattoyfirst.Marissaneveractedlikeapatient,butlikea full-time,live-innurse’saide.

RaymundowantedtoplayballwithSteve.Fiveyears oldbutnobiggerthanatwo-year-old,hepulledSteveby thehandovertothesideofthechildren’splayroomand tossedtheplasticwiffleballtohim.Stevecaughtitand tosseditback,underhanded,gingerly.Theballbounced offRaymundo’sthick,swollenfingersandrolledaway. Thelittleboyreacheddownforitandfellover.

Marissawasrighttheretodusthimoffandstandhim backup.Raymundojustgrinnedandtossedtheballback toSteve.StevehandedtheballtoMarissa.

“Canyouplaywithhimforjustaminute?I’llberight back.”

DempseywatchedasStevemaneuveredhisway throughthethrongofkidsvyingforhisattentionuntilhe stoodatherside.

“Why?Wejustgothere.Raymundolovestoplayball. Justgoplaywithhimforabit.Itmakeshimhappy.”

“Buthefelldown.Idon’twanttohurthim.”

Dempseylaughed.“Youcan’thurtthatkid.He’stough asnails.”

SteveandDempseybothwatchedasMarissathrewthe balltoRaymundo,whoranafteritandfellagainbeforehe clamberedtohisfeetandtosseditbacktoher.Dempsey wavedatMarissa,whofiredafastballstraighttoSteve.

Raymundogiggledandheldhishandsup,readytocatcha throwfromSteve.

“Ihavetogo.”

“Okay,justalittlebitmore,”StevesaidtoDempsey. “Butreally,Ican’tstaylong.”

SteveandRaymundotossedtheballbackandforthfor forty-fiveminutes,untilitwastimetofeedthekidstheir lunchesandgivethemarest.Marissaassistedinpassing outlunchtraysandgettingeachkidsettledintoachairat thetable.Stevemadesureeachchildhadsomethingto drink.

DempseyhuggedMarissagoodbyeandStevegavea smallwavetotheroom.Raymundoboltedfromhisseat andlatchedontoSteve’slegwithapowerfulsqueezeand a,“Thanksfortheballgame,bro,”beforeheranbackto hisseattofinishhislunch.

“Cutelittleamoeba,isn’the?”Stevesaid.

Anothermonthwentby.Sevena.m.phonecallstosay goodmorning.Lunchbreakphonecallstoseehowtheir daysweregoing.Stevepreparedgourmetmealson occasion.Dempseycookedhome-stylecomfortfoods fromrecipesshe’dlearnedfromhermother.Sometimes theyjustorderedpizzaorThaitake-outorwarmedup gourmetleftovers.

“There’ssomethingIhavetoaskyou,”Stevesaid.He fidgetedinhisseatandswirledhisspooninthechicken andsausagegumboDempseyhadmadefromscratch.

“Sure,anything.YouneedsomeTabasco?”

“No,nothisisplentyspicyforme.”

“Sowhatdidyouwanttoaskme?”Itdawnedon

Dempseythathemightbereadytopopthequestion.His nervousness.Hesitation.Announcingthathehada questiontoaskratherthanjustaskingitinnormal conversation.No,thiswouldnotbeanordinaryquestion. Maybe,justmaybe…

“Doyoubelieveinevolution?Orareyouoneofthose whobelievesGodspoketheentireuniverseintoexistence insixdays?”

Okay,itwasn’ttheproposalDempseyhadanticipated. Butitwasatopicthey’drarelydiscussed.He’daccepted thefactthatshewasabelieverandhedidn’tridiculeher forit;sheacceptedthefactthathedidn’tbelieve,andshe didn’tcondemnhimforthat.

“Ibelieveevolutionhasoccurred,andstilloccurs,” Dempseysaid.“ButIdon’tbelieveinit.”

“Thatdoesn’tmakeanysense.”

“You’renotlistening.Ibelievetwoplustwoisfour.I believemath.Idon’tbelieveinmath.”

“Soyoudobelievetheuniversecameintoexistence throughevolution,notsomeintelligentdesignorcreation theory,right?”

Dempseytookanotherbiteofhergumbo,thenaddeda bitmoreTabascobeforesheanswered.

“Ibelieveevolutionistheprocessbywhichtheuniverse wascreated,yes.Butevolutiondoesnotprecludethe existenceofaCreatorwhoinitiated,planned,and controlledtheprocess.EvolutiondoesnotdisproveGod. Evolutionisthe‘how.’Evolutiondoesnotanswerthe ‘why.’Infact,evolutionissuchamiraculousconcept,

suchanextraordinarilycomplexsetofinterrelatedevents overbillionsofyears,itmightbemoreevidencethere musthavebeenaCreator,don’tyouthink?”

DempseytoreoffapieceofFrenchbreadanddippedit inhergumbo.

“Isuppose,”Stevefinallysaid,“ifonebelievesinGod, anythingcanbeusedasevidenceofhisexistence.”

“You’renotoneofthosescience-nutswhobelievesthe studyofthephysicaluniversedisprovestherealityofthe spiritualrealm,areyou?”

Stevefinallygavein.

“Okay,passmetheTabasco.ButI’monlygoingtotrya fewdrops.” ***

“Dempsey,we’vegotaprettyexcitingnew developmentdownhere.Assoonasyougetoffwork, comestraighttothelab.Iwantyoutoseethisfirsthand.”

Shelistenedtothevoicemailatleastfivetimes.She’d neverheardStevesoexcitedaboutanything.Assoonas hershiftended,shedrovestraighttotheuniversity.She didn’tevenbothertochangeoutofherscrubs. ***

“Sure,I’lllook,butIwon’tknowwhatI’mlookingat.” Dempseysquintedandpeeredintotheeyepiecestothe hugemicroscope.Lotsoflittletranslucentgraysquiggles.

“Oh,you’vegotthemreproducing?Isthatit?”

“Wait.I’llexplain.We’vefoundanenzymetheselittle critterslovetoeat.Theycongregatetoit.I’veputsomeof thatenzymeontheslideinaspecificpattern,andI’ll

activateitwithheat.Sokeepwatchingandseewhat happenswhenIturnonthelight.”

Dempseylookedintothechaoticmassofgraysquiggles again.Withaclickofaswitch,theslideglowedviolet.

Thesquigglesbegantomovequicker,stillchaotic, random,bumpingintoeachother,allheadedindifferent directions.Butasshewatched,thesquigglesclumped togetherinplaces,emptyingoutsomespacesontheslide infrontofher.Soon,theclumpsthinnedintolines.

Straightlines.Straightlinesmovinginpreciseformations, likeamarchingband.Orderoutofrandomchaos.

Thelinesshiftedandstretchedandmovedthiswayor that.Linesconnectedtoeachothertoformshapes.

Geometricshapes.Rightangles.Forty-five-degreeangles.

Someshorterlinesswirledaround,twisted,apartfrom theotherlinesatfirst,thenmovedcloserandcurvedinon themselvestoformsemicircles,nolongercontentwith straightlinesandangles.

Thebacteriamarchedaroundandacrosstheslide, connectingtoeachotherinplaces,separatinginplaces, untilthemovementfinallysettledintoaclearlyintelligent design.Thebacteriaunderthemicroscopehadformed words.

MARRY ME

Dempseypulledaway,thenleanedinagainforanother look.ThensheturnedtoSteve.

“Youcouldn’tjusthireaskywritingplaneorproposeon theJumbotronatabaseballgamelikeanynormalguy?”

Shelaughedasshewipedatearfromeacheye.

Arareawkwardsilencefelloverthem.

“Well?”Stevehadwaitedforheranswer,butshehadn’t givenityet.

“Youknowthisisamajorlifedecision.Andyouknow whatIdobeforeanymajorlifedecision,right?”

“Yeah,Iknow.YouprayaboutituntilGodgivesyoua sign.Well,praythen.C’mon.”

“Iwill,okay,justbequietandgivemeaminute.”

Dempseyclosedhereyesandbowedherheadasshesat onthetallstoolatthecounterinfrontofthemicroscope. Sheclaspedherhandstogethertightlyinherlap.She

prayedsilentlybutfervently,lookingforguidancebeyond thelimitsofscience.

Sheopenedhereyesandraisedherheadandtooka deepbreath.

“Well?”Steveaskedagain.

Dempseydidn’tanswerhim,butshebentoverand lookedintothemicroscopeagain,stillamazedatthe bacteriaformation.ShepulledawayandwavedSteve over.

“Thisisinteresting.Takealook.”

Steveleanedacrossinfrontofherandglancedintothe microscope.

“How,howdid...”Stevesputteredandstammeredthen lookedintothescopeoncemore.Thebacteriaansweredin unison: YES!

“Wow,that’sreallyrandom,don’tyouthink?”Dempsey

said.

RobbGrindstaff’scareerasajournalistandmedia executivetookhimfromTexas,NorthCarolina,Arizona, WashingtonDC,fiveyearsinAsia,andnineyearsin Wisconsin.Hehasfournovelsandashortstorycollection publishedwithasmallpress(EvolvedPublishing).Hehas editedfictionformorethanfifteenyears,includingclients whoareagented,traditionallypublished,andbestselling independentauthors.Robbhasalsotaughtwritingcourses forRomanceWritersofAmerica(eventhoughhe’snota romancewriter)andRomanceWritersofAustralia(even thoughhe’snotAustralian).Robb’swritingisbest classifiedascontemporarysouthernlit,althoughhe experimentsabittokeepthingsinteresting.Robb currentlylivesintheLakeoftheOzarksinMissouriwith hiswifeandhisneuroticdog.

"EvolutionofLove"waspreviouslypublishedinthecollection JuneBug Gothic:TalesfromtheSouth,byRobbGrindstaff[EvolvedPublishing, May2022]

“No,”Stevesaid.“Ithinkit’sasign.”

MyValentine CarrieWelch

Ihadafairytaleinmyhead.Ofwhatromancewas supposedtolooklike.Aprinceorknightinshiningarmor wouldsweeptheprincessoffherfeetandpledgehis undyingloveforher.Andofcourse,theylived“happily everafter.”Becauseinmychildhoodbrain“happilyever after”existed.Ijusthadtofindit.Iwantedthatfairytale.I wantedtobetheprincess,lovedbyamanwhobattled demonsforher,killedevilqueens,dominateddragonsand rescuedheroverandoveragain.

Whodoesn’twanttobelovedthatmuch?InschoolI fantasizedaboutoneoftheboysinclassrescuingme.In firstgradeIaskedaboyIhadacrushonifhewouldbe myvalentine.Hesaidyes,giggledandranaway.Ithought hewouldcallmeormeetmeundermywindowatnight withasongorpoem.Hesaidyestomyrequest,so certainlyhewantedtoshowmehowmuchhelovedme!

Nothinghappened.Valentine’sDaycameandwent.All Ireceivedwasaheartshapedboxofchocolatefrommy momwhogushedoverandoverabouthowmuchshe lovedme.

InmiddleschoolIlikedanotherboy.Hewasafriendof minewhoIjustknewhadasecretcrushonme,and perhapswouldfightadragonformeifthesituation presenteditself.Onedayhestoodnexttomeinlinefor somethingschoolrelated,leaningagainstabrickwall.I hadonlongsleevesandrolledthemupbecauseIwashot. HisarmbrushedmineandIsmiled.Hisreactionwasthe exactopposite;hejumpedawayfromme,proclaiming, “eeeewwwww!”forallofourclassmatestohear.“Your armsaresohairy!”heannounced.Isankintoadark imaginaryholeasthefantasydiedalittlemore.

ThatnightIwenthomeandshavedmyarms.Ikept shavingthemforawholeyearuntilmymomnoticed.She askedmetostopbecausetheywereperfectastheywere andnottoohairyintheslightest.Istoppedshavingmy arms.

InhighschooltherewasthisfootballplayerIthought wascute.Hewasbigandstrongandinmyartclass.He pickedonmemercilessly,sonaturallyIbelievedheliked me.Untilthepickingonmestoppedandhesuddenlyhad agirlfriendthatwasn’tme.

AlsoinhighschoolIhadacrushonthisboyIknew fromallthewaybackinelementaryschool.Ithinkhe likedmetoosincehekissedmeafewtimes,andbrought meflowersandballoonsformybirthday.Ithoughtmaybe thisonewouldfightadragonformeortrulyloveme.But thenheneveransweredorreturnedmycalls.Iwasaghost ofanidea,somethinghecouldtryoutandturnaway.

IncollegeIhadaboyfriend.Wemetthroughfriends

andhewenttoauniversityfarfrommyuniversity.Wehad along-distancerelationshipbutwemadeitwork.Weslept togetheroneeveningwhenIvisited.Ilostmyvirginity. Hedecidedafterwardstogohangoutwithhisfriends whileIstayedinhisbed.

IrememberIcried.IcalledmomafterIreturnedhome andtoldhereverything.SheaskedifIwasokayandsaid, “Aslongasyourespectandloveyourself.”

Ikepttherelationshipbutitwasneverthesame.I startedtobelieveitwasthelongdistancethatmadethings difficult.MaybeifIlivedcloser,hewouldloveme.HowI cravedtobelovedbyhim.HeaskedifIwouldconsider switchingschools.SoIdid.Itransferred,gotan apartment,ajob,andstartedtakingafewclassesathis university.

ThenIfoundouthewascheatingonme.Theknightin shiningarmorwassupposedtokilltheevilqueens,not havesexwiththem!

Theflickerofhopeinsidemewasdead.IfiguredI wouldgivethemallwhattheywanted.Icouldusethe onlypowerIseemtohave,mysexuality.Iquitschooland startedworkingasacocktailwaitresstomakeenough moneytokeepmynewapartment.Ispentmanynights drinkingandflirting.Istartedhavingsexwithdifferent people.Thinkingthiswashowtheywouldfinallyfallin lovewithme.IwasdumbfoundedwhenamanI’dbeen sleepingwithaskedmetomarryhim.Thatreallyworked?

Butitdidn’t.Hewasnotmyknightinshiningarmor andwouldneverbattledemonsforme.Hewasjustan

imageofsomethingthatcouldhavebeen.Wedivorced withinfiveyears.

Ikeptmovingthroughthemotions.Relationshipscame andwent,noneofthemevermatchinguptomystandards. Evenwhentheyseemedtoactuallycare,Ikeptthemata distanceandneveropenedmyhearttothem.Theywere theenemyandIhadtostaybehindenemylinestoprotect myself.

Momoncetoldmemydadwasnotaknightinshining armor.Hewasjustamanwhowasinterestedandasked herout.Sosurely,Iwouldfindtheperfectman-someone whowouldsweepmeoffmyfeetandpledgehisundying loveforme-someonewhowoulddoanythingforme.I desperatelywantedtobelovedthatmuch.

Ihadafairytaleinmyhead.Butthenmymomgotsick. Cancerspreadthroughoutherbody.Iwaslivingfaraway atthetimeanddecidedtomovehomeassoonaspossible. Iwalkedintoherroomatarehabilitationcenterandher facelitupasifahalosurroundedher.“It’syou!”she exclaimed.“I’vemissedyousomuch!”Ijoinedherthere inthathaloandsaid,“I’vemissedyoutooMom.”

Istayedwithherforfourmonths,helpingherfinishthe lastlittlebitofherlife.RarelydidIleaveherside,asI knewshewoulddothesameforme.Wefoughtdemons together,webattledevilqueens,anddominateddragons. Butthisleftherexhaustedandshefinallyletgoanddied. Herhaloneverleftme.Sherescuesmeoverandover again,justasshealwaysdid.Thedeepestkindoflove livedinmymother’sgestures,herlisteningear,hersmile,

andthosesmallheart-shapedboxesofchocolateson Valentine'sday.

CarrieWelchhasbeenwritingsincethedayshefirst pickedupapencil.Ifshecouldn’tbefoundaroundthe house,hermomknewtherewasagoodchanceshewasup inatreewithherjournal,scribblingaway.Inspiredinthe 80’sbyShellSilverstien,shespentherchildhoodwriting poemsandquicklywatchedherwritingskillsgrowinto proseandshortstories.CarriereceivedaBAinEnglish andCreativeWritingfromtheUniversityofHouston, Downtown.Shecontinuedherstudies,receivingaMasters inClinicalCounselingfromMontanaStateUniversity.She enjoysusingthewrittenwordasatherapeutictoolfor depression,anxiety,traumaandinherworkasagrief counselor.Now,withplentyoflifeexperienceandfinding herselfinherforties’ssheisdelightedtostartsharingher storieswiththeworld.

Carrieandhermother, 1984

AnOdetotheGreatestGeneration

JamesD.Brewer

Whensomeonebrokeintoourcarjustnorthof NashvillethatFebruarymorningin2003,hehadnoidea ofthevalueofwhathetook.Henotonlyrobbedus,buthe alsostolefromanentiregeneration.IknewIhadtofinda waytoreturnsomeofwhatwastaken.Here’showthe song“TheGreatestGeneration’sGoingHome”came about.

ItwasFebruaryof2003,andmyfather-in-law,Milton KeithCaylor,hadjustpassedaway–onlyeighteen monthsafterhiswife,Virginia.Wearrangedtoreturnto TennesseewhereMilton,amarineduringWorldWarII, wouldbeburiedwithmilitaryhonorsalongsidehiswife.

Inpreparationfortheviewingthenightbeforethefuneral, wecollectedmanyofthephotos,medals,andother memorabiliafromhistimeintheMarines.Weplannedto createakioskinhismemoryanddisplayit.

1“TheGreatestGeneration’sGoingHome”©2005WordsandMusicby JamesD.Brewer

Twodaysbeforethefuneral,mywifeandIweredriving inseparatecarsfromElizabethtown,KYtoJackson,TN, whenwestoppedforashortlunchjustnorthofNashville. Whenwereturnedtoourcar,wefoundthepassenger-side doorlockpunchedout.Someonehadbrokenintoourcar inbroaddaylightandtakenonlyONEitem--thebriefcase inthefloorboardcontainingmanyofthepictures,medals, uniformstripes,andlifememoriesofCorporalMiltonK. Caylor,USMC.Mywifewasdevastatedbythisincident, andweimmediatelycalledthepolice.

“Weseethatalotinthisarea,”therespondingofficer said.“It’smostlypeopleondrugslookingforsomething theycansellorpawnforquickcash.”Headmittedthatthe chanceoffindingandrecoveringthesepreciousitemswas slim.Saddenedandfeelinggut-punched,wedroveoff towardJacksontocompletethevisitationandfuneral preparations.

AsIfoughttrafficandroadconstructionalongI-40to theoutskirtsofwestNashville,Iwasnotonlybotheredby theimpactitwashavingonmywife,butalsoasaretired USArmyofficermyself,Iwasenragedthatsomelow-life wouldstealthememorabiliaofamanwhohadriskedhis lifeforhiscountry.IknewIhadtodosomethingtohelp alleviatethesituation,butIwasn’tsurewhatIcoulddo thatwouldmatter.Whatcouldpossiblyreplacewhathad beentaken?Ihadbeenanamateurmusicianformostof

mylife,soasIcontinuedalongI-40,Ibegantoconceive ofsomelyricsinmyhead.CouldImaybereplacesomeof whatwaslostwithasongatthefuneral?IknewIdidn’t havemuchtime,yetdoingnothingwasnotanoption.

AsIbegantoponderthelifeofmyfather-in-law,afew linesstartedcomingtomind.Picturingtheadventof WorldWarII,IimaginedthethousandsofAmericanmen andwomenwhoansweredtheclarioncallforservice.

Manyworkedinfactoriesandmillssupplyingthenation inwarmaterials.Othersworkedthefarmsthatfedanation atwar.Stillmoreraisedtheirchildrenandkeptthehome firesburning.

Theywereyoungandfreein’33,andworkedandsaved andprayed

Thatdepressiontimeswouldleadtobetterdays. Butwiththesoundsofgunsin’41deathanddarkness came.

Andtheyknewtheirliveswouldneverbethesame.

Thelineskeptcoming,andsinceIcouldn’tstoptojot themdown,Ijustkeptrepeatingthemtomemory.I thoughtofthehundredsofthousandswhosignedupinthe armedservicestodefendthenation.Iknewmyfather-inlawhadgrownupinMemphis,Tennessee.Likemany WorldWarIIservicemembers,hehadbeenaBoyScout, andasayoungadulthewasemployedatanironworks beforethewar.Raisedinalower-middle-classfamily, Milton’sfatherwasarailroadworkerwhoinstilledinhim asenseofhardworkanddutythatsocharacterizedthose ofhisgeneration.Hewastwenty-fiveyearsoldwhenhe enlistedintheUnitedStates MarineCorpsin1943.

AftertraininginParisIsland, SC,Miltontraveledcrosscountrytoawaitshippingoutto thePacificTheater.Like hundredsofotherMarines,he passedthroughthefamous HollywoodCanteen where popularentertainersandmovie starsofthetimehostedshows andgreetedthemenpriorto theirdeparture.Afterafewdays ofrelaxationandsomehow managinganautographfromLucilleBallandotherstars,

heboardedatrooptransportforthesouthPacific.

Miltonwouldspendmuchofhisserviceontheislandof Guam.ThoughIsometimesaskedhimabouthis experiences,herarelyspokeatlengthabouthistimeat war.OnlyoccasionallycouldIpryoutofhimasmall anecdote,forthosememoriesofcombatstillseemed painfultohimyearsaftertheevents.

Whenthecallwentout,theysetabouttotryandsave theworld

AndriskedtheirliveswheretheStarsandStripes unfurled.

Fromthedesertcampaignstothepouringrainsinsome southPacificsquall Allgavesome,butsomejustgaveitall.

Withthewarended andhisenlistmentover, hereturnedtowest Tennesseewherehemet andmarriedhiswife, Virginia.In1952they adoptedthebeautiful, four-month-oldbabygirl thatwouldeventually becomemywife.

Andwhenatlastitcametopassthevictorywaswon

Theycamebackhomewheretheworkhadjustbegun. Withoutcomplaintsorwhinesorprotestsignsforwhat they’driskedandlost

Theyrolleduptheirsleevesandcountednotthecost.

AlthoughIwasmakingprogressonmylyrics,asI crossedthewindingHarpethRiver,Ibegantorealizethat thissongwasaboutmorethanjustCorporalMilton

Caylor.Iwascomposingnotonlythestoryofthosewho foughtinthewar,butalsothosewhoremainedbehind–allthosewhomadethiscountrygreatduringandafterthe war.Ithoughtofmyownmotherwhohadworkedasa telephoneoperatorthroughthewaryearsandforsome30 yearsafter.Thisgenerationhadsacrificedand accomplishedsomuch.Andmorewordscametome.

Theywerelaborersandsalesmenandthemomsthat madeourhomes

Andtheoperator’svoiceonthetelephone.

Theycuredpolioandbuiltourschoolsandwroteour favoritetunes.

Why,man,theyeventookustothemoon!

ForoverfiftyyearsMiltonandVirginiaweregood parentstomywife,supportivein-lawstome,andmuch-

lovedgrandparentstoourtwodaughters.Perhapsbecause ofwhathehadexperienced,Miltonhadsomedoubtswhen in1977Idecidedtobecomeacareersoldier;yetbothhe andVirginiafell-informationandsupportedourlifestyle.

Formorethanthirtyyears,myin-lawsservedasabastion ofstabilityformywifeandchildrenamiddutystation changesandmissionsthattookmeallovertheUSand sometimesoutofthecountry.

Miltonparticularlyenjoyedoneaspectofvisitingusat distantdutystationsduringtheholidays.

“Arewegoingtothemesshallthisyear,Jimmy?”he wouldaskexpectantly.Ofcourse,ouranswerwasalways “yes.”

Helovedgoingon-postforThanksgivingorChristmas wherefood-servicepersonnelcompetedtopresentthe award-winningmessforsoldiersunabletogohomeon leave.Theoldsoldierinhimlikedtheornatefood displays,thedecorations,andtheofficersindressuniform fortheoccasion.

Theypaidthebillsandcuredourillsandraiseduntiltill we’dgrown

Andhelpedusraisefamiliesofourown.

Throughthechallengesandthehardtimes,they’dseen intheirownday

Theytriedtohelpandguideusonourway.

AsIcrossedtheTennesseeRiver,IrecalledsomethingI hadreadaboutournationlosing1,000WorldWarII veteranseachday.Anentiregenerationwasevaporating beforeoureyes.Theweightofthatlossweighedonmy mindasmorewordscametome.

Nowwitheachdaymoreslipawayforthey,too,must goon

TostandbeforetheirMakerontheirown Thoughwemaycrywhenwesay“good-bye”inour heartsweknow

ThattheGreatestGenerationisgoinghome.

AssoonaswereachedJackson,Tennessee,Itookthe opportunitytowritedownallIcouldremembersince leavingNashville.Icontactedaboyhoodfriendandold “pickin’buddy”ofminewhostilllivedintown,andI borrowedaguitarfromhim.ThatnightIbeganthumping outthetunetomylyrics,thenIfinishedupthenext morninguntilIhadapassablesongtosharewiththe familyatthefuneral.ButIhadtoldnooneaboutit.Itwas aftervisitationthenightbeforethefuneralthatI approachedmywifeandaskedifshewouldmindifIsang asongtohonorherfatherandthoseofhisgeneration.She agreedtoit,andasIwasfinalizingthesongthemorning ofthefuneralIrealizedsomethingwasmissing.Aftera

fewminutesoffiddlingwithpossibleendings,IknewI neededtochallengeotherstoequalthesacrificeofthose whohadgoneonbefore.

Andonedayatlastitshallcometopassthatwe,too, mustgoon

TostandbeforeourMakeronourown.

Andonthatdaywillourchildrensayaswewalkdown thatroad

ThattheGreatestGenerationhasgonehome?

Isomehowmanagedtomakeitthroughthesongatthe funeralwithouttearsofmyown.

Weleftthefuneralhomeandrodeintheprocessionto thecemeterywhereamilitaryhonorguardawaitedus. Aftersomebriefwordsfromtheminister,theVFW representativesrenderedmilitaryhonorsandplayed “Taps.”Istoodalongsidemywifeandfamilyamidthe sadnessofthoseMiltonhadleftbehind.Yes,hewasgone fromus,buthewasonamoreimportantmissionnow,and astheyplayed“Taps,”Isnappedupasalute.

“It’sallright,CorporalCaylor,”Iwhispered.“I’vegot yoursix.”

JamesD.Brewer isaretiredUSArmyofficer,writer, musicianandteacherwholiveswithhiswife,Jan,in centralFlorida.AformerprofessorattheUSMilitary AcademyandpasteditorofArmormagazine,hehasover aforty-yearwritingcareerauthoredfivenovels,threenonfictionbooks,numerousmagazinearticlesandatwo-act play.ThefirstbookinBrewer’snewestthree-volume ChoctawParkerMystery/Adventureseries,Bloodonthe Crossties:TheFloridaChautauquaMurders,debutsfrom TouchPointPressinFebruary2023.Hecontinuestowrite andteachasanadjunctprofessorofEnglish,andheand hiswifefrequentlyperform“TheGreatestGeneration’s GoingHome”atMemorialandVeteransDayactivities.

Clickonthelinkbelowtohearthewordssettomusic:

“TheGreatestGeneration’sGoingHome” ©2005Words and MusicbyJamesD.Brewer

RecordedbytheHighRoadRamblers

SilverSequins

JoyRossDavis

JeanieMartinstoodoutsidethehugedisplaywindowat Harrod’sBoutique,hereyesfixedonasequinedsweater thecolorofthesea.Onlyanhourbefore,herhusbandhad said,

“C’mon.Let’sgotothemall.”

“ButI’mnotdressedforit,”she’dreplied,glancing downatherbaggybrownsweatpantsandyellow oversizedt-shirt.“Canyougivemeafewminutesto change?”

Andhe,dressedinafineItalianthree-piecesuit,white dressshirt,andstripedtie,grabbedthekeysoffthehook.

“Let’sgo,”hesaid.“Now.We’llstopatRubyTuesdays onthewayback.Thefridgeisaboutemptyandthere doesn’tseemtobeanythingcookingonthestove.”

Jeaniegrabbedherpurse,smoothedonsomelipgloss, ranherfingersthroughherjust-washedhair,andfollowed him.

HesaidhehadbusinesstoattendtoatThePistolParlor, privateclient-attorneybusiness,thekindshewasnever allowedtowitness.Hehandedhertwoslimstacksofbills, bothsecuredbywiderubberbands.

“Tenone-hundreddollarbills,”hesaid.“Gonextdoor totheboutiqueandbuywhateveryouwant,butusegood taste.YouneedanoutfitfortheshindigatTheRelay Housenextweek.Somethingdressy.I’llcheckonyou whenIfinish.”

“Andyouwantmetopickitoutmyself?”Jeanieasked. “Youhardlyeverletmepickoutmyownclothes.” Hechuckled.

“Well,Sugar,that’sbecauseyoudon’thaveverygood taste.Butgiveitatry.Maybemysenseofstylehasrubbed offonyouinthefouryearswe’vebeenmarried.Pickout whatyouwantatHarrod’s,butIhavethefinalsay.”

Andwiththat,hewalkedaway.

Andnow,shewasheregazingatthebeautifulsea-blue sweater.Thesilversequinstraileddownthelongsleeves andaroundtheneckline,andasthesweaterturnedonits pedestal,itshimmered.

Jeaniepeekedaroundthecornertoseeifthestorewas crowded,andseeingnooneelseinsidebuttheclerk,she walkedin,herstepssoftsoasnottoattractattention.Buta bellrangassheenteredandtheclerkcametoher immediately.

Heeyedherupanddown,alookofutterdisgustonhis face.

Jeaniesmoothedhert-shirt,adjustedherpurse,and turnedtowardthesweatertohidetheflushthatcameto hercheeks.

“MayIhelpyou?”theclerkaskedandstartledher.

Hewasatallmandressedinasuitandtie,hishands claspedathiswaist.

“I…Ilikethissweaterinthewindow,”Jeaniesaidand pointed.“Thisone.”

Theclerkraisedaneyebrow.

“Oh,butthatsweaterisveryexpensive.”

Hedismissedherwithawaveofhishand.

“I’mafraidthatwehaveverylittlethatwouldsuityou. Perhapsanotherplacewouldbeabetterchoice.”

“ButI’dliketoseethesweater,”Jeaniesaid.

“I’msorry,butitwouldn’tfityou,”theclerksaid.

Jeanieloweredherheadandwalkedaway.Sheheard thebelldingasshesteppedoutofthestore,justintimeto seeherhusbandcomingtowardher,abigsmileonhis handsomeface.

“Well,Sugar,whatdidyoubuy?”

Jeaniepointedtothesweaterinthewindow.

“I…Iwantedthatsweater,buttheclerksaidIshouldtry anotherstore.”

Shesawthelook,then,thatlookhegotwhenhistemper

wasabouttoexplode.

“No,Anthony,please,pleasedon’tdoanything.”

Herheartpoundedasshewatchedtheclerkbagup somethingandhandittoherhusband.

Andshewatchedasthatsameclerk’sfaceblanched purewhitewhenAnthonyputhisbusinesscardonthe counter,thenleanedinandwhisperedsomethingtohim. Theclerkputhishandstohismouth.

“Howdoesitfeeltohavemadeyourverylastsale?” Anthonysaidandlaughed.“Seeyouincourt.”

Twoyearslater,thesweaterliesstillfoldedinthe bureaudrawerinthenewapartment,neveronceworn.

Jeaniehardlythinksofitanymore,neverseesAnthony, andtakesprideinthenewjobastheExecutiveSecretary ofhisbiggestrival.

Occasionally,whenthedrawerisopened,lightplayson thesweater’ssilversequinsandcastsawarmglowall around.Shesmilesandmoveson.

JoyRossDavis isofIrishdescentandastudentofthelore andmagicfoundinthebackhillsofTennesseewhere manyofherIrishancestorssettleduponcomingto America.Afteratwenty-five-yearcareerasacollege Englishprofessor,sheretiredfromteachingandfollowed herdreamofgoingtoIreland.Asithappened,shewas offereda“summerofwork”asawriterandphotographer

atanIrishtravelagencywhereshewroteandpublished numerousarticlesandphotosdesignedforfirst-time AmericanvisitorstoIreland.Shehasbeenacontributing featurewriterforalocalnewspaperandhaspublished articlesinSouthernliterarymagazines.Shelivesin Alabamawithhersonsandbelovedrescuedogs.

Shelovestospeakatconferences,bookclubmeetings,and eventstosharethestoriesbehindherbooks.

MoveMe

AnnieMcDonnell

Theyarethepoets, ourweaverofwords, collectorsofthoughts.

Puttingwordstopaper, Sunflowerfieldsbecomeoceans.

Atouchbecomeselectroniclight.

Then,suddenly,

TheWords AreWhispered throughthewind.

Onflightsofair andbecomethebreeze,

Thatlightlycaressesus.

They’llbringustoattention Andeventoourknees, Weepingandloving.

TheyarethePoets, Theyfixthebroken Andreveretheunnoticed.

Makeusseetheunseen.

Theyremindyou, TolookattheStars, Butseetheminyourhands.

Thesewordsmiths, Movemountains, andhearts,andhope. EvenStirSouls. Theycross Seas,andCountries, Andcontinents.

Theworld. Theymovefarther thanairplanesandships. Theyaretheones thatwilluniteus.

Annie McDonnell isanAlumofHighPointUniversity.

Herfirsttasteofwritingwasin3rdgradewhenshewrote fortheelementarynewspaper.Fromthatfirstpoem,she knewshewasinlovewiththewrittenword.Annieisthe

authorofAnnie’sSong:Dandelions,Dreams&Dogs,a uniquecollectionofpoems,essaysandsongs,topublish 3/14/2023throughLucidHousePublishing.Whileitis mostlyabouthergriefandtraumas,shestilloffersthegift ofhopeandlove.Shehopesthisbookwillempower peopletohavemorecompassionforpeoplelivingwith chronicillness,disabilities,orterminalIllnesses.All proceedswillgotoOneLoveDogRescue,Inc,501c3,The MuseWritingCenter,ThePatConroyLiteraryCenter,and TheStiffPersonResearchFoundation.Annielivesin

Mastic,NY,withherhusband,threespoileddogs,andfive demandingcats.ShealsovolunteersatOneLoveDog Rescue,Inc.501c3andsupportsbothAdult&Children’s Literacy.

Roll-Splash-Roll

RobinPrinceMonroe

Sprinklesdanceinlacyclouds, thenhopdowntoexplorethethirstyearth, andracethroughriverstoplayinthesea.

Theydaretosneakuptotastethesand

wheresunlightcatchesthediamonddrops

andcoaxesthembacktothegentleclouds collectingthemallwithgreedypride

Soon,toomanytostaycontained, burstlikefireworksovertheland, thenrun,gigglingbacktothesea toroll-splash-rollupontheshore.

RobinPrinceMonroe livesinthebeautifulandmysterious LowcountryofSouthCarolina.Sheisafree-lancewriter, artist,andbeachcrazy,childatheart.Shehasbeen writingsinceshewasnine,whenshereceivedherfirst rejectionforpublicationfromakindeditorwhotoldher to,“Keepwriting”,andshehas.Shedelightsinwriting forchildren;andhasauthoredfourpicturebooks,a middlegradenovelandachapeterbook.Herworkhas alsoappearedinGuideposts,MoneyMatters,andSpecial EducationToday.

Currentlyworkingonsomepiecesfor“big”people,Robin ishavingfunwritingashortstory,anovella,andher memoir.

LindsayCarraway’sartworkreflectssocial,cultural,and politicalissuesmixedwithdreamsandvisionsofher schizophrenicmind.Movingthroughfromthepasttothe futuresheusesaseriesofimages,symbols,andnumbers, thatsheseesorhearsfromhervisionsordreamstoform thestoriesshewantstoconvey.

Thesestoriesareusuallyideasthatareonhermindor subconsciouslypullingather.

Showingsymbolismofthesouth,sexuality,family,and religiousnods,alongwithpeeksintothefuture,and remembranceofthepast,togetherthepaintingand collagesshowcaseaglimpseintohermindasshesketches withpaperandpaintstheideasshehasfromwithin.

MARKYOURCALENDARS!

ThespottofindupcomingAuthorEvents,

WritingRetreats,andWorkshopsNearYou

MARKYOURCALENDARS!

ThespottofindupcomingAuthorEvents, WritingRetreats,andWorkshopsNearYou

ANovelIdea:AFive-PartNovelWritingSerieswith

CooperLevey-BakerandBrianPetkash

Fromplanningtopublishing,thisserieswilltakeyouthroughallthe essentialsyouneedtohelpturnyourbookideaintoareality.

Localauthors BrianPetkash and CooperLevey-Baker willexplore thefundamentalsofstorytellingfromcraftingyoursetting, characters,andplot,torevisingyourworkandsubmittingyour manuscriptforpublication.

Thisseriesisopentoallages,levels,andgenresofwriters,aswell asthoseinterestedinlearningmoreaboutthecraftofnovelwriting. Drop-intoone,orallpartsofthisdynamicseries.

YouluckySarasotians!! Theseeventsarefree-joinCooper Levey-Baker,BrianPetkash,andguestsbyclickingthelinksbelow toregisteronline.

3-4p.m.Monday,November14,2022

3-4p.m.Monday,December12,2022

3-4p.m.Monday,January9,2023

3-4p.m.Monday,February6,2023

3-4p.m.Monday,March6,2023

BriangrewupinCleveland,Ohio,afocal pointofmuchofhiswriting(andmuch ofhissportsheartache).Aformerhigh schoolliteratureandcreative writingteacher,helivesin TampawithhispartnerCeleste andworksasamarketing professionalinboththegame andcomicbookindustries.

BrianholdsanMFAinCreative WritingfromUniversityofTampa.Hisworkhasappearedin ElPortal,BridgeEightLiteraryMagazine,Southword,and MidwesternGothic.

MistakesbytheLake, hiscollectionofstoriespublishedby MadvillePublishing,isoutnow.

CooperLevey-Bakerisawriterand journalist.Hisfictionhasappearedin theSierraNevadaReview andBurrowPress'sFantastic Floridasseries,andhis journalismhaswonmultiple awardsfromtheFlorida MagazineAssociationand theFloridaSocietyfor ProfessionalJournalism.

DeadFishWind ishisfirstnovel.

ANNIE’SANTICS WITHANNIEMCDONNELL

ANNIEINTRODUCES

VINCESPINNATO

TheauthorIchooseeachmonthisanauthorthatI believewasborntoshine!Letmeintroduceyouto Vince Spinnato,authorof MyPursuitofBeauty:ACosmetic ChemistrevealstheGlitz,theGlam,andtheBatsh*t Crazy.

Butfirstlet’scelebrateVince’snewestendeavor!

Vincenzo(Vince)Spinnato,CosmeticChemistand President/CEOofTurnKeyBeautyInc,hasbeenselected byTheEllaFitzgeraldCharitableFoundationandElla Fitzgerald'slicensingandbrandmanagementagency EvolutionUSA,tocreateaperfumethathonorstheiconic “TheFirstLadyofSong,”EllaFitzgerald.

EllaJaneFitzgerald(April25,1917–June15,1996), alsoknownasthe"QueenofJazz"and"LadyElla",was

anAmericanjazzandsongvocalist.Ellawaswellknown forherpurityoftone,immaculatediction,phrasingand intonation,andmostknownforherscatsinging.Vinceis beyondthrilledtobehelpingtocontinueMs.Fitzgerald's legacyandensuringthatanewgenerationfallsinlove withhersongbooksashehas.

Herecentlyformulatedafragranceinhonorofthe iconicJudyGarland’s100thBirthdaycelebration,released June10,2022.ItallbeganwithLornaLuft,LizaMinnelli, andtheotherJudyGarlandHeirssigningwithVince’s TurnkeyBeauty,Inc.tocreatethefragrance.

Judy’sfragranceisaUnisexscenttorememberher supportoftheLGBTQIACommunity.Ithastopnotesof Coriander,elemi,andGrapefruit;middlenotesofRose, Orchid,andPinkPepperandbasenotesofTonkaBean, BourbonVanilla,Caramel,Patchouli,WoodsyNotes,and Musk.Igotabottleformy birthday,andIloveit!

Vincesaysheisexcited tocreatethenotesfor Fitzgerald’sjazzy,sultry, andlyricallylayered perfume.Heabsolutely adoresJudyGarland,and whenitcomestoElla Fitzgerald,shepullsmore onhisheartstrings.Vince’s fatherplayedthetrumpet andlovedFitzgerald’s music.

Oneofhisfavoritesongs is A-Tisket,A-Tasket recordedbyEllain1938. ButVince’snumberone favoriteis Bewitched,

Bothered,andBewildered whichwasrecordedin1956. Vinceconfessestolisteningtohermusicalldaylong, especiallywhilehe’sworking.

Vincehasworkedatvariousplacestogettowhereheis today.Thefirstmajoronebeing“kitchencosmetics” wheretheymadecosmeticsoutofingredientsyoucould findinyourhome.Vincewalkedintothebusinessandtold theownerthathewasgoingtoworkasaninternforfree atthesalonforayear.Littledidheknowhewouldbe thereforthenexteighteenmonthsashelearnedhowto developproductsandalltheinsandoutsoftheindustry.

IlookuptoVinceforsomanyreasons.He’samanthat youcannothelpbutfallinlovewithimmediately.I’ve nevermetsomeonethathasaccomplishedsomuchinlife andremainsashumbleandhassuchagreatsenseof humorasVince.HemakesmefeellikeI’mhisbestfriend, andIamsureheislikethiswitheveryonehemeets.

InJanuary,2021,Vincereleasedhismemoircalled My PursuitofBeauty:ACosmeticChemistrevealstheGlitz, theGlam,andtheBatsh*tCrazy.Spinnatosharesthe innerworkingsofthemulti-billion-dollarbeautyindustry, includingentertainingtalesaboutcreatingbeautyproducts andfinefragrancesformegastores,aswellasprivate labelbrandsforbigretailcompaniesandentrepreneurs. Alongtheway,youcannotbelieveallthatVincehasbeen through.Itwasabsolutelyoneofmyfavoritereadsin 2021.Iwilladdmy5 reviewattheendofthisarticle.

Vince’sdocumentary, SkinDeep:FormulatingaLegacy releasedin2022andisamustsee.It’sagreatfollow-upto hismemoirbecausehetakesyouintohisworldandyou learnevenmoreabouthim.

IusetheProustInterviewmodeltolearnmoreabout authorsIintroducebeyondmytypicalinterviewquestions andwhatwelearnisalwaysfunandfascinating.

IhadagreattimetalkingwithVince!

Whatisyourideaofperfecthappiness?

Feelingincontrolofmyownlife,andeverythingbeingin balance.

Whatlivingpersondoyoumostadmire?

IwouldhavetosayMerylStreep.She’ssoveryintelligent andawonderfulactress.IamaWWIIbuffand Sophie’s Choice isoneofmyall-timefavoritemovies.

Whathasbeenyourgreatestextravagance?

Thatwouldhavetobemy LouisVuitton golfbag.Iteven comeswithvelvetgolfclubheadcovers.

Whatqualitiesdoyoulikemostinaman?

WhatIrespectmostiswhenamanishonestandhas integrity.Ilikethemtobea“manoftheirword”.

Whatqualitiesdoyoulikemostinawoman?

ForwomenIalwayslookforhonesty.Honestyis somethingIalwaysrespectmostinanyone.

Whenandwherewereyoutheabsolutehappiest you’veeverbeen?

Myjunioryearofhighschool.ItwasthefirstyearI participatedinamusical,whichwassomuchfun.Itwas called MeandMyGirl.

Whatisyourmostmarkedcharacteristic?

I’magambler,inthesensethatIputeverythinginto whateverI’mdoing.Idon’teasilygiveup.

Whatisyourmosttreasuredpossession?

ItwastheAmericanflagthatIreceivedatmyfather’s funeral,untilitwaslostinmyhousefire.NowIhaveto sayit’smycollectionofBroadwayPlaybills.

AndtwoquestionsnotfromProustIhadtoask:

Whatisonequestionthatyouwishpeopleasked duringaninterview?

Iwishthatpeoplewouldask-howareyoudoingtoday?

Iwassosadtohearthatyourbabygirl,thebeautiful andtrulybelovedMastiffSavannahhadpassedaway recently.Howareyoudoingwithallofthis?

Igotanewmastiffpuppy.SheisfromSavannah’sfamily. InamedherDominiqueafterthecharacterfromtheshowI lovedtowatchwhenIwasgrowingupcalledDynasty. That’swhereIusuallychoosethenamesfrom.

VinceSpinnatoisthewalkingembodimentofthequote “Nevergiveupbecausegreatthingstaketime!”

“MyPursuitofBeauty”canserveasaself-helpbook forthosefollowingtheirdreamsandfeelliketheyare gettingknockeddowntoomanytimesalongtheway.

Vinceismyhero.Healwaysholdshisheadhighand pushesthrough.

Aseedgrewinhisyoungmindashewatched“Young& theRestless”&“Dynasty”withhismother.Thenit blossomedintothisglorious,rathersensationaldynastyTheVSVincenzoDynasty!

Vinceisaffectionateandcaring.Hehadfriendsthat lovedhimandfriendsthatlovedhimalotless.Things happentohimthatseemridiculous,andyouwilllaughout loudorcry.SomanytimesIjustwantedtoreachthrough thepageandhughim.Manytimes,Vincedeservedbetter. Manytimes,Ifeltoutrage.FollowVince’sjourneyto Success.Youwillbehappyyoudid,becauseitisso entertaining.Earlyinhiscareerpathhemetanexecutive fromElleMagazine,justasIstartedwithElleMagazine. ThatMagazinebringsgoodthingstolife!

Heisalwaysreadytogiveyoutheshirtoffofhisback.

VinceSpinnatodefinitelymakeswavesalongthewayto becomingasuccessfulentrepreneur.Heisaforceof nature!

“MyPursuitofBeauty”issuchapersonaljourneyyou willfeellikeyouarebestfriendswithVincebythetime youfinishthebook.Youwillwanttomeethimandshake hishand,becauseyou’llbeproudofhim,butmostly impressedbyhim!

IreadthebookandlistenedtotheaudibleandIadored both.

Vincemakesmyheartsmile!

Authorof Annie’sSong:Dandelions,Dreams&Dogs,Book Reviewer,AuthorInterviewer,Teacher,Speaker,Writer, AuthorConsultant,Co-Admin.AtWorldoftheWriteReview BookClub,Blogger,Authoronlineeventplanner.

AnnieMcDonnell

WELLFED: ALiteraryFeastforYourMind, Body,andSoul

Thebeststoriesaretoldinthe kitchen...

WellFedismorethanacookbookit'sacollectionofrecipesandmemoriesfromsomeof today'shottestauthors.

Itwillbeavailableasabeautiful12X12hardcoverwith glossycolorpagesmakingittheperfectgiftfortheholidays -settopublishbeforeThanksgiving2023.Everyauthor’s biowillbelistedinalphabeticalordersoreaderscanlearn moreaboutthepersonbehindeachstory.

Keepinmind,thisisn’tanordinarycookbook. It’sa collectionofyourfavoritemealsandmemoriestosharewith readersalongwiththestorybehindthepersonwhoeither taughtyoutomaketherecipeorsomeoneyoushareditwith.

Everyentrywillhaveatleastafour-pagespreadtoshare yourmemory.

Ifyouhaveafavoritememoryyou’dliketobeconsidered, pleasesendyourrecipe,thememorybehindit(wordcount forthememoryshouldbebetween250-600words),abrief 3rdpersonbio,andaphotoofthepersonconnectedto yourmemoryto threedogswritepress@gmail.com

Contributorswillreceiveonecontributor’scopyfromthree dogswritepressandlotsoffunopportunitiestoconnectwith readersonWELLREAD’ssocialmediasiteswhenIstart promotingthecookbook.

Formoreinformationclickhere.

IoncereadaquotefromPatConroythatsaid,"Arecipeisa storythatendswithagoodmeal."

WELLSERVED-StoriesandSpirits:a collectionofcocktailrecipesandthebooksthey werecreatedfor…

Didyou-orsomeoneelse-createaspecialcocktailto celebrateyourbook?

Ifso,let'ssharethemwithreaders!

WELLSERVEDisanotherfunwaytogetourbooksseen. Everycocktailrecipewillconsistofafourpagespread.

1stpagewillbeaphotooftheauthorenjoyingtheirdrink, 2ndpagewillbetherecipe,3rdpagewillbeanimageof thebook'scover,andthe4thpagewillbethebook's description.

ThecallforsubmissionswillcloseattheendofJune, 2023.PublicationdateforWELLSERVEDissetfor Novemberof2023andwillbeavailableforpurchase throughallonlineretailersincludingmyfavoritebookshop.org.

Allcontributorswillreceiveonecontributor'scopyfrom threedogswritepressandlotsoffunopportunitiesto promoteeachotheronWELLREADMagazine'ssocial mediapages.

Formoreinformationclickhere.

ThePerfectWriter’s Getaway

Doc'sHideawayisjust that-it'swhereDoctor Holleywouldhideout whenhedidn'twantto seepatientsoranyone else.Offthesideofthe housewithadoorheading outtotheMagnolia Stage,Doc'sHideawayis aperfectroomfor someonewhowantstosit outsideinthemorning andenjoythestartofthe day.Thereisaprivate entrancefortravelersand aluxuriousqueenbed.

Ifyou'reintownforan eventatHolleyHouse, Doc'sHideawayisone doorawayfromalloftheaction.Thiscoastalthemed queensuitehasaspaciousbathroomandaflip-down antiquedesk-youwillfeellikeyouareonatropical vacation.Theheartpinefloorsareoriginaltothehouse from1903.It'sashortwalktobreakfast-downthe corridorfromthediningroom.

Hemingwaywouldhavelovedthisroomandsowillyou!

25HottestAuthors,Artists,andAdvocatesof2023 is lookingforTHEHottestPoetof2023andthey’veasked WELLREADMagazineforhelp.

ThegrandprizewinnerwillbepublishedMarch2023in theirannualmagazinethatwillbeavailableforpurchase inprintanddigitalform, 25HottestAuthors,Artists,and Advocatesof2023, andpromotedthroughouttheyear.The winnerwillalsohaveapodcastinterviewandanarticle writtenabouttheminLadiesLiteraryEntertainment.

Finalistswillhavetheopportunitytobepublishedin futureissuesofWELLREADMagazine.

Submissionguidelines:

Contributorsshouldincludeonlyonepoemper submission.Allworkmustbetyped(preferablyin12 point,TimesNewRoman),andsingle-spaced(not includingstanzabreaks).Includethetitleofyourworkon yourmanuscript.Pleasesendthesubmissionasan attachment,useHOTTESTPOETOF23inthesubject line,andincludeashortfirstpersonbiointhebodyofthe email.

Toenterthecompetition,sendyoursubmissionto wellreadmagazinesubmissions@gmail.comnolaterthan February28th.

Weloveourreadersandyouwillalwayshavea placeinthemagazinetoshareyournews.

OFFTHEPAGE

Amonthlycolumnthattakesusoff

thepageandintothelifeof RiverJordan

RiverJordan isThePowerofStory….

OnAHighNote

IperpetuallyhaveasonginmyheartbutI’velearned nottoletthatsongescapemylips.Imaginethatscenein theJuliaRobertsmovie,MyBestFriend’sWeddingwhere CameronDiazsingskaraokesohorriblysheisapplauded bytheentirerestaurant.Well,thatwasamovie.Whenyou soundlikethreewetcatswhohavetheirtailscaughtunder arockingchair,thekaraokebarisnotactuallyrockin’.

Ioftengetcomplimentsonmyvoice(whichiskinda funny‘causeIhadnothingtodowiththat.Itjustcame withme)and,I’vespenttwentyyearsontheradio speakingandinterviewingbutnotsinging.Forgood reason.ThelasttimeIeverrockedmyyoungesttosleep hewasthreeyearsold.Iwassingingthesamesongsto himmymotherhadsungtome.(Theyarenotyourregular lullabiesbutthat’sanotherstoryforanothertime.)He takeshisprecious,littlefingersandplacesthemovermy lipsandsays,“Don’tsing,Mommy.Don’tsing.”He remainsanastutecritictothisday.

FlashforwardintimeandIamdrivinghisfive-year-old sontovisithiscousinswhichrequiresanelevenhour drive.Needlesstosay,elevenhoursontheroadfora driverinvolvestheradioandsomesing-along’s.SoI’m drivingandsingingalongwhenthefiveyearoldinthe backseatsays–Zaza,ifyoudon’tstopsingingIamgoing tothrowup–whichspursmeontostartsingingLOUDER. ThatisuntilIlookintherearviewmirrorandIswear,the kidislookingaroundhisseatforsomesortofbagor containertothrowupin.Fine.Okay.Igetit.Don’tsing. ButthisisfrustratingbecauseIlovemusic.Ofallkinds. ThemostusedapponmyphoneisSpotifyandI’msucha full-timepatronyou’dthinkIownedstockinthe company.(Yes,Idoinvestinthecommercialfreeversion becauseit’swortheverypennyforme.)Istartmy morningswithitonplayingGregorianChantthenmoveto classicalmusic.Iactuallyfollowthebook,Yearof WonderbyClemencyBurton-Hillthathighlightsa differentpieceeverydayandthehistoryofitscomposer. (It’sawonderfulwaytodiscovermusicorbetter understandclassicalmusicandSpotifyhasplaylistsfor eachmonthseparately.)ThenIamofftothemusicalraces fortheday.Exercisewithoutmusic?Ludicrous.Besttunes frommyteenageyears–youbetcha–andpointedly listeningtonewofferingssothatIdon’tlockmybraininto aretrostage.Butbydinnertimeit’spopularinstrumentals,

jazz,ormyDeanMartinplaylist.

So,itwouldseemthataslongasIkeptmylipsclosed andenjoyedmymusicinsilenceallwouldbewell.Not so.Oh,nay,nay.Why?BecauseIwasgiftedmusicallyto beabletoplaypiano.WhenIwasaboutsevenIsatdown atmyAuntKate’spianoandbegantosoundoutthenotes ofBornFreehavingneverhadalesson.WhichmeansI amnottonedeafassuspected.Ihaveabsolutelyno understandingofhowthiscanbesobutitis.Atone-deaf singerwhocansoundoutmusicwithoutlessonsornotes? Theworldisacuriousplace.

BecauseIshowedsuchstrangepromiseasapiano prodigymymotherfoundmeapianoteacher.Iwould walkafewtimesaweektoherhouse(backwhenthe worldwassafeandlittlegirlscouldwalkalone)andsitat thebench,learnnotesandtimingandreceiveinstruction. Thenmy3rdgradeteacherannouncedtherewouldbea talentcompetitionintheclassandweshouldconsider officiallycompeting.Andthisshy,quietlittlegirldecided toenterthecompetitionandplayadramaticpiece.I practicedandpracticed.Andthedayfinallyarrived.

Forreasonsknownonlytomyeight-year-oldselfI secretlytookmysongbooktoschoolwithouttellingmy motherIhadenteredthecompetition.Iwasfirstonthe talentrosterwhichconsistedofonlytwocontestants.I figuredthisatleastgavemeafifty/fiftychancealthoughI

wouldn’thavewordeditwaybackthen.JustthatIhada shotatthisthing.Theteacherinstructedtheclasstorise fromourdesksandlineup.Wehadtowalkdownthe hallwaystoadarkroomfilledwitholddesksandapiano thathadn’tbeentunedsinceTruman’sadministration.The kidswereinstructedtolineupagainstthewallbehindme. Musicsheetout,pianoopened,fingersonkeys.

Ibegantosofty,lightly(allegro)playtheopening,then Iarrivedatthedramaticportionandplayedwithpassion (adagio).Towhichthechildrenlineduponthewalls begantolaugh.Icontinuedplaying.Theteachercorrected them,“Now,children,benice.”Iplayedtheallegronotes sweetly,thenreachedthedramaticportionsandplayed withthosesomberadagionoteswhichalwayselicited laughternomatterwhattheteachersaid.I’dliketopoint outatthispointthatmyeight-year-oldselfcontinued playinginspiteofthedustandthedarkroomandthe children’slaughter.Backstraight.Faceforward.Notears. Finally,thesongwasover.Iclosedthepiano.Welinedup toreturntoclasswithmebringinguptherear.

Itwastimeformyonlyopponenttoperformhertalent. And–shedid.Thiseight-year-oldstandsupwiththe confidenceofMadonna,takesoffherraincoatandreveals sheiswearingapinktutu.Shethenpulledtapshoesoutof herbookbagandIhadaheavy,sinkingfeeling.Therewas nolaughingduringherdancebuttherewasahugeround

ofapplauseafterwards.Afterwhatfeltlikeamarathonof pinkandsparklesandtaptaptappingitwastimetovote.

Wewerepassedoutlittleballotslipswithtwochoices. Itwasmeoritwasher.Imademychoice,foldedthe paperandpasseditforward.Theteachercollectedallthe votes,leanedonherdesk,andappointedahelpertomove forwardtotheboardwithapieceofchalk.Shethen proceededtoopenthepaperslipsandreadALOUDthe voteselectionsonebyone.Again,onebyone.I’dhaveto gobacktosomeoldclassphototocounthowmanyvotes therewerebutitwasatleasttwenty-five,maybethirty becausewedidn’ttalkbackorarguewiththeteacherback thenandcrowdcontrolwasnotanissue.

Theteacherreadthenames,thehelperplacedlittle whitemarksbyournamesontheboard.Thetutureceived agazillionforty-fivevotes.Ireceivedtwo.Oneofthem wasmine.I’dliketopointoutthatIremainedinclassfor thisentireexperience,backstraight,notears.ButIwalked homethatdayasomberchildfullyawarethatdreams couldbecrushed,lifecouldbehardandyoucouldnever fightthepowerofapinktutu.

I’dlovetosayIwentontotakepianolessonsfor twentyyearsandperformedsomewheretoastranding ovation.Buttheoppositethinghappened.Irefusedto practiceandbeggedofflessons.Mymotherpleadedwith mebutIwasstubbornandtightlippedaboutthewhole

thing.Immovable.Thepianocollecteddust.Wasonly occasionallyusedtogoofaroundonforaduetofheartand soul.Eventually,aftermanyyearsofdisuse,itwassold.

Yearslatermymothertoldmethatthepianoteacher toldherIwasthebest,mostpromisingstudentshehad everhad.Alittlekernelshehadneversharedwithme.Not evenwhenIpulledupanchorandleftlessonsfarbehind. Buthere’sthething.Ifyouhavemusicinyoursoul-you justdo.BecauseIhadanotherwaytoexpressthejoyof whatIheard.Icoulddance.And,itwasn’ttocompeteor winanyaccolades.Itwasforthepurejoyofthe

movementandthesound.Andmusicwas(andis)so powerfulformethatthisshylittlegirlwouldgetupand dance.ImagineBaloointheJungleBookgettingso movedbythemusicthathecan’thelpbutsay,“I’mgone man.Solidgone,”anddanceshiswayoutofhiding.I danceasababy,asafiveyearoldinfrontofacrowdto theamazementofthepeopleattending.(Iftheinternet werealivethenIwouldhavebeenaninternetsensation. Really.)ImayneverhavequalifiedtobeintheAlvin

AileydancetroopbutIwouldhavemadeitasabackup dancerontheoldDeanMartinShow.Sothat’swhatIdo.I dancewhenI’mhappyandwhenI’mtiredandwhenIjust needtorememberhowwonderfulitfeelstobealive.Also, I’velearnedtotakethatpassionandbringittothepage. Towritestoriesandnovelsthathaveakindoflyrical

movementtothem.

InaNewYorkTimesBookReviewinterviewauthor PatrickModianowasaskedwhatmovedhimmostina workofliterature.Heresponded,“Thestyle.Themusic.

Whatmovesmemostinabookistohearthesamevoice speakingtomefromthebeginningtotheendofit.”

Maybe,justmaybe,I’mnotsotonedeafafterall.

RiverJordan isanauthor,speaker,teacherandradiohost. Asasouthernerwithaglobalperspectivesheisa passionateadvocateforthepowerofstory.

River'swritingcareerbeganasaplaywrightandshespent overtenyearswritinganddirecting.Sheisthebest-selling authoroffournovelsandathreespiritualmemoirs.Asa critically-acclaimedauthorherworkhasbeenmost frequentlycastinthecompanyofsuchwritersasFlannery O'Conner,WilliamFaulkner,andHarperLee.

TroubleTheWater by

RebeccaDwightBruff

"Beforethisdecisivenight,I'dnotfullyappreciatedthesubtleline betweeninspirationandinsanity.Butnow,withallourlivesatrisk,I foundmyselfnavigatingthatmostperilousedge..."

InspiredbythelifeofanunsungAmericanheroandslave,Trouble theWaternavigatestherichtributariesofcourage,betrayal,and redemption.Inhisinspiringjourney,RobertSmallswitnessesgreat privilegeandsufferingalongsidehisowner'sdaughterandthe dangeroussonofafirebrandsecessionist.Attheageoftwelve,he's senttoworkinCharleston,whereheloadsshipsandlearnstopilota cottonsteamer.WhentheCivilWareruptsandhiscottonsteamer becomesaconfederatewarship,Robertseizestheopportunityto pursuefreedomforhimselfandthepeopleheloves.

"Withthisstunningdebutnovel,RebeccaBruffestablishesherselfas anexcitingnewvoiceinhistoricalfiction."

--CassandraKing Conroy,authorof Moonrise,andFoundingHonoraryChairofthe PatConroyLiteraryCenter

“Hereisanovelthatsucceedsoneverylevel:itsworldand characterscomealive(myfavoritecharacter,asidefromthe protagonisthimself,is“UncleGeorge”);itentertainsandthepages turneasily(Ireaditin4sittings,eventhoughit’sover300pages long);itdefamiliarizesandcauseswonderment(ashistoricalfiction does);itissymmetricalwithoutbeingoverwrought,formallytight withoutfeelingforced(theRussianformalistswouldsaythatifyou haveagunatthestartofthestory,itwilleventuallyneedtogooff. Let’sjustsaythattheprologueandtheearlychaptersinthisbook “gooff”bytheend).Soifyoulikethatsortofthinginyour historicalfictions,thenTroubletheWatershouldsatisfyyour readerlyinstincts.”

TheFeatheredQuillBookAwards- Troublethe Water wasawardedaFirstPlace/GoldprizeforDebutFiction,and

FirstPlace/GoldPrizeforAdultFiction

"Ilovedreturningtothelowcountry,andmyGod,thatwriting towardtheendaboutthetides:'Whenthetideisout,allthewayout, youcansmellcreation...'Thatpassagemademebreathless." -RobinOliveira,authorofNewYorkTimesbestseller MyNameis MarySuter

"DebutauthorRebeccaBruffhasmadehermarkwiththis exceptionalexaminationoffamily,freedom,andwhatitreally meanstofightforthelight." --JulieCantrell,NewYorkTimesand USATODAYbestsellingauthorof Perennials

“RebeccaBruffhastoldtheremarkablestoryofthelifeandtimesof RobertSmalls.Escapedslave,CivilWarcombatheroandnatural politicalleaderoftheSeaIslandfreedmen.Usingallavailable scholarship,theauthorhascreatedabelievableandsensitive portraitofSmallsandthecharacters,blackandwhite,whocreated atrueAmericanhero.TroubletheWatermaybecomeaCarolina classic.”–LawrenceS.RowlandDistinguishedProfessorEmeritus, UniversityofSouthCarolinaBeaufort

RebeccaDwightBruffistheauthoroftheaward-winningdebut novel, TroubletheWater, publishedJune2019,andthenon-fiction book, LovingtheWorldwithGod,published2014.Bruffearnedher BachelorsdegreeineducationatTexasA&MUniversityandMaster andDoctoratedegreesintheology,bothfrom SouthernMethodistUniversity.In2017,she wasascholarshiprecipientfortheprestigious KeyWestLiterarySeminar.Shevolunteersat thePatConroyLiteraryCenterinBeaufort, SouthCarolina.She'spublishednon-fiction, playsalittletennis,travelswhenshecan,and loveslifeinthelowcountry. www.rebeccabruff.com