WELL READ Magazine December 2022

LauraWhitfield

WhenLauraWhitfieldwasfourteen,herextraordinarybrother, Lawrence,waskilledinamountainclimbingaccident.Thatnightshe hadanepiphany:Lifeisshort.Dreambig,evenifitmeanstaking risks.So,aftergraduatingfromhighschool,shesetoutonherown, preparedtodojustthat.

LauraspentherfirstsummerafterhighschoolonNorthCarolina's OuterBanks,amagicalfewmonthsfilledwithfriendships,boys,and beer.ThereshemetahandsomeDJwhoeveryonecalled"Stevethe Dream,"andriskedherheart.WhenSeptembercame,Stevemovedto NewYorkCitytobecomeamodel--promptingLauratostartthinking aboutmodeling,too.Afterjustonesemesterofcollege,stillseekingto fillthevoidleftbyherbrother'sdeath,shedroppedoutandmovedto NewYorktobecomeacovergirl.Butwhilejugglingthedemandsof lifeinthebigcity--waitingtables,failedrelationships,andthe cutthroatworldofmodeling--shelostherway. Astirringmemoiraboutayoungwoman'squesttofindhopeand stabilityafterdevastatingloss,UntetheredisLaura'sstoryof overcomingshame,embracingfaith,andlearningthattakingrisks--and failing--canleadtoabiggerlifethanyou'veeverdaredtoimagine. "Thewritingisengagingandwelcomesthereaderintotheauthor’s storyandthoughts...tellingastorythatisuniquetoheryetinwhich readerswillrecognizetheebbsandflowsoftragedy,challenges,and joyweallexperienceinlife." TheBookLifePrize LauragrewupinRaleigh,NorthCarolina,the daughterofajournalistandateacher.Shehas beenanadvertisingcopywriter,newspaper columnist,staffwriterforaninternationalrelief agency,travelwriter,blogger,teacher, communicationsdirectorforseveralnonprofits, andpersonalassistanttoaNewYorkTimes bestsellingauthor.

GeralynRyan,betterknownasGerrybyallofher friendsandfamily,recentlymetseveralRobertSmalls alumniwhowereTootie’sclassmates.Theyallhadhappy, funmemoriesofTootie.

MissLucillerecalled,“Tootiekneweverybody.Hewent tohighschool-healwayswenttohighschool-never wenttojuniorhigh!Hewenttotenth,eleventhandtwelfth grade,andwhenTootiegottiredofoneclass,hewentto another.”

Tootiealsohadahomemadeslingshotthatheneverleft homewithoutbeingtuckedsafelyinhispantspocket. MichaelChapman,achildhoodfriendandnative Beaufortonianrecalled,“Tootielovedtotakesmallbets fromfolksthatdidn’tbelievethathecouldhitatarget withhisslingshotfromtenyards.PING!Hehitthetarget everytime.Tootieletoutadeepbellylaughashegladly collectedhiswinnings.”

gumballs,offeringthemtochildren.

Thatmemorytakesmebacktoasimpler,innocenttime inBeaufort.”

DonnaChapmanaddsyetanotherheartwarming memory,“MyearliestrecollectionofTootiewaswhenI sawhimridinghisbicyclearoundtown.Hewould gleefullyblowhiswhistleandringhisbikebellandgreet everyonewithawarmsmile.Ialwayswavedandsmiled backatTootie.Thoseweregoodtimes.”

Tootiewascaredformuchofhislifebyhissister,the lateRoseBourkeHarvey.Afterherpassingin2002, Tootielivedwithrelatives,andenjoyedhisfinalyearsat theRidgelandNursingCenter,whereheacquiredmany newfriends.

Gerry,wholovedTootiefromchildhood,visitedhimat thenursingfacilityin2010.WhenTootiesawGerryand realizedthathehadavisitorfromBeaufort,hethrewup hishandsinawavinggesturetogatherfolkscloser.When hehadtheirattention,heshouted,“Hey,everybody!” pointingtoGerryashecriedjubilantly,“Shecametosee ME!”

Hereiteratedthesameboldstatementashepointedonce moreatGerry.

“She,”Tootieshoutedwithjoy,thenpointedbackto himself,“cametoseeME!”

OneofGerry’sclassmatesdiscoveredwhereTootie

StaffPicks by George Singleton

It'sFather'sDay1972andayoung boy'sdadtakeshimtovisitastring ofunimpressiveex-girlfriendsthat couldhavebeenhismother;the unconventionaldetectiveworkofa koan-speaking,KungFu-loving unclesolvesacaseofarsonduringa pancakebreakfast;andaformer geologyprofessor,recoveringfrom addiction,findshimselfsharingataxicabwithspecters fromaJimCrow-eralynching.Setinandaroundthe fictionaltownofSteepleburg,SouthCarolina,theloosely tiedstoriesinGeorgeSingleton'sStaffPicksplace sympathetic,oddballcharactersinabsurd,borderline surrealsituationsthatslowlyrevealtheangstofsouthern historywithhumorandbite.

InthetraditionofDonaldBarthelme,T.C.Boyle,Flannery O'Connor,andRaymondCarver,Singletoncreates lingering,darklycomedictalesbydrawingfromthose placeswherefamiliarityandalienationcoexist.A remarkableanddistincteffortfromanacclaimedchronicler oftheSouth,StaffPicksreaffirmsSingleton'sgiftfor craftingshortstorycollectionsthatbothdeliverindividual gemsandshineasawhole.

Promise by ReginaE. Williams

SarahBoothDelaneyMysterybyCarolynHaines

SarahBoothDelaneyMysterybyCarolynHaines

TheCicadaTree by Robert Gwaltney

TheBirthofDeath:the OriginsofArtintheCavesof France byJMWhite

Thisbooknarratesaseriesofvisitsto PaleolithihccavesinFranceand reflectsonthebirthofartand awarenessofdeath.

J.M.WhiteThemoonjourneys aroundtheearth,theeartharoundthe sun,soithasbeenforaslongas humanshaveinhabitedthisglobe.The seasonswanderontheirrounds.And nowthiswearytravelerlooksoutupontheworldwhere everydayisitsownjourney,asiseachlifeandso,asBasho poignantlytellsus,“thejourneyitselfishome”.Weprepare, suchaswecan,takewhatwethinkisneeded,andsetout. Someneverreturn.Thejourneyisdangerous,filledwith peril.Weventureintofar-flungplaceswherewewalkon narrowrockypaths,peerintodeepprecipices,journeynear theedgeandateachmomenttheendisnear,nearerthanwe daretothink.WhenIreturnfromthelatestadventureIthrow openthewindows,airoutthehouseandsettleatmydesk. Yet,whenIamsittingathomeIwatchthecloudswindblown acrossthesky,orhearthewhistleofthetrain,lonesomein thedistance,anditdrawsmetothedreamofwandering. BeforelongIfeelthetugofsomeinvisibleforceandknowit istimetopackmybagsandcontinueonthisjourney.I assemblemypapers,preparemymanuscripts,andfinda blankjournal.It’stimetogo.

TheLatch byJ.M.WHITE

J.M.WhiteThemoonjourneys aroundtheearth,theeartharoundthe sun,soithasbeenforaslongas humanshaveinhabitedthisglobe. Theseasonswanderontheirrounds. Andnowthiswearytravelerlooksout upontheworldwhereeverydayisits ownjourney,asiseachlifeandso,as Bashopoignantlytellsus,“thejourneyitselfishome”.We prepare,suchaswecan,takewhatwethinkisneeded,and setout.Someneverreturn.Thejourneyisdangerous, filledwithperil.Weventureintofar-flungplaceswherewe walkonnarrowrockypaths,peerintodeepprecipices, journeyneartheedgeandateachmomenttheendisnear, nearerthanwedaretothink.WhenIreturnfromthelatest adventureIthrowopenthewindows,airoutthehouseand settleatmydesk.Yet,whenIamsittingathomeIwatch thecloudswindblownacrossthesky,orhearthewhistle ofthetrain,lonesomeinthedistance,anditdrawsmeto thedreamofwandering.BeforelongIfeelthetugofsome invisibleforceandknowitistimetopackmybagsand continueonthisjourney.Iassemblemypapers,prepare mymanuscripts,andfindablankjournal.It’stimetogo.

IfirstmetWilliamGayatareadinginOxford, MississippiatOff-SquareBooks,wheretheliteratiand book-obsessedgatheredafewtimesaweektohearsome ofthebestwritingofourgeneration.Bythattime,Ihad studiedhiswork.Thepagesofhisnovelshadbecome softenedfrommyconstanttouch,dog-eared,andhacked upwithpenmarks,untilfinallyhearrivedinOxford.

Mypublisherhadsentacopyofmyfirstbooktohim forablurb,andIwasgiventhedictumtofindoutifthat wouldactuallyhappen.Hewasoutside,smokinga cigarette.Inthebreathlesswayofanydie-hardfan,Itried toexplainthedepthofmyfeelingsabouthisbookswhile hesmokedandstaredatthesidewalk.Eventually,we cametoalongpause.Finally,Williamlookedupatme andsaid,“Youwanttogetadrink?”

Thatwasthestartofourfriendship.Perhapseveryone whoknewWilliamfeltaspecialkinshipwithhim,as thoughhe’dallowedyouintothesecrethermitageofhis literarymind.ButIsometimeswonderifanyonereally knewhiminthewayheknew,profoundlyknew,the charactersinhisbooks.TobefriendswithWilliamwasto feelinspiredandlovedbyhim.Hehadafantasticmind, andawonderfuldrysenseofhumor,andpeoplewantedto benearhim.William’sfriendshipswerebuiltaroundthe centrifugalforceoftheart—ofwhichhewasaprocurer— music,film,andliterature.

Andthat’swhatwetalkedabout,ridingthroughthe Southonourwaytoconferencesandreadings.Wewere

quiet,too,forlongswathsoftime.WebothlovedDylan, andthat’showIremembertheauditorysoundtrackon thosedriveswithWilliam.Wewerebothonbooktourat thesametime,andweoftenfoundourselvesatswanky hotels,Williamwasalwaysgettingshepherdedtospecial dinnerswithmediaandbreakfastswithfilmdirectors.

Afteronesuchevent,wewerewalkingdownthebalcony totheparkinglot.“Well,”hesaidwiththatwrysmile, “backtothetrailerandthethree-leggeddog.”

William’sdeathin2012wasandwasnotunexpected. Hewasanunapologeticsmoker,andhedrankperhapsto alleviatesomeoftheshynesshe’dbornethroughouthis life.Heexercisedonlywhenwalkingwithhisdoginthe woodstopickginsengbySwanCreek.

Thenewscametomeonecoldeveningupnorth,andI don’tthinkI’deverfeltgrieflikethatbefore.Iwantedto hearhissoftvoiceagain,getahitofthedryhumor,hear himrecitepoetryonemoretime,showmeoneofthe paintingshe’djustmade.Perhapswhatstruckusallmost wastheliteraryforcethatwasWilliamGayhadrunitself outwiththisdeath.

Whenin2015,webeganhearingthatafewofhislost novelshadbeenfound,acollectivesighofreliefcame fromtheliteraryworld.Perhapsthepublicationofhis posthumousworksatisfiedafantasythatmaybecommon toallofus—toexperienceagainthepersonwethoughtwe hadlost.

lookingforhim.Ihearhemightpullagunonyou."Iwent onmyway,moreintriguedthanever. Eventually,IfoundafarmerwhoknewoneofWilliam's daughters,andhetoldmehowtogettoherplace.WhenI droveuptoherhouse,theyardwasfullofoldvehicles, fourwheelers,motorcycles,go-karts,trucks,theearth mostlybare,un-mowedclumpsofweedshereandthere.A youngwomancameoutofahousecarryingaboyonher hip.Itwashisyoungestdaughterandsheassuredmeit wouldbealrighttogoseehimandgavemedirections.I couldn'tbelievemyluck.

IfollowedherdirectionstoGrinder'sCreekRoadand pulleduptothefirsttrailerontheright,adilapidated single-wideonascruffylot.Anoldwhitepitbullcame acrosstheyard,andamansteppedout.Hecalledthedog Knucklesandsaidhewouldn'tbotherme.Ihadacopyof ProvincesofNight inmyhandandintroducedmyself.He invitedmein,andIsteppedthroughthefrontdoorintohis livingroom.Therewasacouchandanoverstuffedchair. Bothhadtheirlegsremoved,sotheysatonthefloor. Therewasacoffeetablecoveredwithmagazines,anash trayoverflowingwithcigarettebutts,andacrosstheroom wasastate-of-the-artflatscreen,astereocomponent systemwithbigspeakersandshelvesfullofCDsand DVDs.Hemotionedformetositdown.Heagreedtosign mybook.Butashedid,Icouldtellhewasvery uncomfortable.Obviouslyhavingfansdriveupwasnot oneofhisfavoritethings.IthoughtIshouldbeatahasty retreatassoonaspossible.Idecidedtoaskacoupleof

questionsbeforeIgotoutofthereandlefthimalone.

"Ifyoudon'tmind,areyouworkingonanythingnew?"

"Yes,Ijustsubmittedanarticleto OxfordAmerican, aboutHarrySmith."

"Harrywasanoldfriendofmine."

Williamlookedupquicklyandgavemeapiercingstare. "Really,youknewHarrySmith?"

"Yep,IlovedHarry.Wewerefriendsforthelastthree yearsofhislife.Hewasanamazingguy."

"Well,shit,IwishyouhadcomearoundherebeforeI submittedthearticle,Itriedtofindsomeonewhoknew himbutcouldn'tmakecontactwithanyone."

IcouldseeachangecomeoverWilliamasItoldhim storiesaboutHarrySmith.Hewasnowtotallyrelaxedand morethanhappytositandtalkforawhile.Iwasrelieved butstillthoughtthewisestthingwastogetoutofthere andnotsitaroundtalkingforalongtime,soIquickly thankedhimandgotuptogo.AsIwasleaving,heinvited metostopbacknexttimeIwasintown,andIwasoff.

Iwasamazedafterreadinghisbookstofindhimliving insuchcircumstances,althoughthattypeoflifestylewas certainlyreflectedinhisbooks.Itwasoneofthosegreat meetingsthathappenfromtimetotimeifyouarelucky.

Thateveningwefoundamutualliteraryterritoryin McCarthyandO’ConnorandasharedadmirationforJohn D.MacDonald’sbooksfeaturingTravisMcGee,a“knight intarnishedarmor”wholivesaboardahouseboatin“Fort Lauderdamndale.”AnotherMacDonald,Ross,awriterof detectivetales,wasalsofavoredbyWilliam.

AtthatfirstmeetingIalsowitnessedWilliam’sabilityto recitelongpassagesfromFlanneryO’Connor,an admirableandentertainingskill.Hewasfabledforhaving aphotographicmemory,andIcouldreadilyattesttothis gift.Irecallthisfirstgatheringathiscabinasjustasimple sharingoftwo-threehours,probablyordinaryforWilliam, butauspiciousforme.Ihadmetafewauthorsbefore,in NewOrleansandWashington,DC,butthisquietevening get-togetherbesideSwanCreekisoneIcontinueto treasure.

Afewyearslater,Michaelaskedmetoworkonabookof William’scollectedprosethatMichael’ssmallpublishing house,WildDogPress,wasproducing.Ireadilyagreed, honoredtosupportWilliam’sliterarylegacy.Michael compiledthebookfromWilliam’spreviouslypublished prose:shortstories,essays,andmusiccriticism.Asa lagniappe,thebook, TimeDoneBeenWon’tBeNoMore, includedcolorplatesofeightofWilliam’spaintings.I workedonthisbookasdesigner,proofreaderandeditorial consultant,anditwaspublishedin2010.Inearly2018, AnomolaicpublishedWilliam’sSoutherndetectivenoir novel, Stoneburner,anotherproductionofTeamGay.

aboutcomingtoClarksville.Hesaid,“Ridingaroundwith Sheliaandtalking.”

SUSANMCDONALD: Iknew Williamthroughmyrelationship withMichael.Iwenttohis readings,visitedhiminhishome, andaccompaniedhimto appearancesonoccasion.Hewas suchahumbleandlikeableman thatpeoplewereenthralledtobein hispresence.Weweretoldthat duringateachingstayatSewanee, thestudentslovedhimandtook everyopportunitytohangoutwithhim.Hewasreallya characterfromhisownbooks,somewhatshyandalmost embarrassedbyadulation,transparent,generous, appreciative,candid,homespuninhismanner,andfullof dryhumor.InearlyFebruary2012,MichaelandIwere veryexcitedbecauseofanimpendingvisitfromWilliam. Thedaybeforehisvisit,welearnedthathehaddiedthe nightbefore.Hewasnotwellduetoaheartconditionbut wasreluctanttospendmuchtimearounddoctors,which, inretrospect,mighthavehastenedhisdeath.

cametohisdateofbirth).

CuriousandhungryformorethanIwouldeverfindthis way,Ilookeduphisaddressandwrotehimalettertelling himhowhiswordsspoketomeandaskingwhenhisnext novelwouldbepublished.Ihadincludedastampedselfaddressedenvelope,hopinghewouldwriteback.But that’snotwhathappened.Afterafewweeksofchecking mymailbox,IrealizedhowfoolishI’dbeentothinkan authorofhisstaturewouldtakethetimetowritealetterto someonehe’dnevermetorevenheardof.Thatwasmy mindsetwhenmyphonerangoneafternooninearly2008 andastringoflong,kindly-spokenvowelsaskedmeif thiswastherightnumberfortheguywho’dwrittenthe flatteringletter.

Irememberbeingnervousashell,likeachildinthe presenceofhishero.Ikeptcallinghimsirandhekept tellingmethattherewasnoneedtocallhimthat.Wewere aboutthesameagehesaid,anditmadehimfeelweird, nottomentionold,formetousethatelevatedwordto addresshim.IalsorememberfeelinglikeIwastalking waytoofastandnomatterhowhardItriedtoslowdown, myvoiceseemedlikeanauctioneer’scomparedtotheone ontheline.

WespokeformaybeanhourthatdayandIwouldcallhim afewtimesuntileventually,withhispermission,Idrove fromWichitatoHohenwaldwithmyfour-month-old EnglishSetter.We’dkeptitinformalandvagueasto whenImightbeinhisneighborhood,sowhenIknocked

onhisscreendoor,Iwasn’tsurehowwelcomeIwouldbe. Theuneasinessdidn’tlastlong.ThevoiceIhadcometo lookforwardtoonthephone,spokefromthecoolshade insidehismodernlogcabin.“Comeonin.”Iaskedhimif Icouldbringmydoginfromthecarandhesaid“Sure,I lovedogs.Bringhimonin.”

Someonehadpoisonedhisdogawhilebackandbythe attentionhegaveCurly,Iknewhemissedhimagreat deal.Ihadpromisedmyselfnottotakeuptoomuchofhis time,butI’dbroughtoneofmybetterstillcameraswith thehopeoftakingsomephotographs.Infact,Ihadcalled hispublisheraboutthatverything,andhehadencouraged metogetsomenewshotsbecausehewasn’tallthatfond oftheoneshehad.ImentionedthistoWilliam,andhe grumbledthathedidn’tmuchliketohavehispicture taken.Iletitgo.

Inashortwhile,oneofhissons,Christopher,showedup withhisguitarandasoftsmileandlittletosaythatwent beyondsincerepoliteness.Idecidedtowrapthingsupand letthemanspendtimewithhiskid,andwassayingmy good-byeswhenWilliamsaid,“Ithoughtyouweregonna takesomepictures.YououghttogetsomeofChristopher whileyou’rehere.”This,Ilearnedoverthenextcoupleof yearswastypicalWilliamGay.Whenitcametohiskids, theworldwasadifferentplace.Entirelychangedandfor thebetter.

Wewouldtalkonthephoneeverymonthorso,andwhen MichaelWhiteaskedmetohelpputtogetheraone-man

showofWilliam’spaintings,ImadesurethatChristopher wasanintegralpartofthegoings-onbyhiringhimto performsomeofhismusicattheSouthsideGalleryin Oxford.Williamdidnotdrive,nordidheenjoycrowds. Christophersolvedbothissuesbydoublingaschauffeur forthetrip,andthenbeingathisfather’ssidetohelphim makehiswaythroughthepressofwell-meaningadmirers. Oxfordisaplacewherewritersoccupyapositionthat manycollegetownsreserveforcoachesofnationally rankedfootballandbasketballteams.Inthisenvironment, Williamwasbesetforhoursbyfansofhiswritingand,to amuchlesserextent,nowhisvisualartistry.Eventually hisclosefriendTomFranklinwhiskedhimawayfromthe crushandhumidity.Clearly,theeveninghadtakenitstoll. Sincehisdeath,IhaveoftenseensomethingIthought he’dfindinteresting,andIreflexivelythinkofcallinghim likeIusedto.Anyonewhoadmiresthemanandhiswork isnow,alongwithme,foreverindebttoMichaelWhite whohasthrownhimselfatthegargantuantaskoftaking faintscribblesinsidehundredsofspiralnotepadsand turningthemintoentirebooksfilledwiththenearmagical proseofWilliamGay–awriterwhosenamewilloneday bespokenintermsnotunlikethoseusedtodescribe anotherwriterwhospentagooddealoftimeinOxford.If thatsoundsadulatory,placeyourbetnow.Let’smakeit thepriceofabeer.Infiveortenyears,let’smeetupinthat littlebarthereonOxford’sSquarethatWilliamlikedto haunt.Youcanbuymeadrink.

“Thenightbeforetheywenttothemotelforthefirsttime shetwistedhismouthdowntohersandsaidagainsthis teeth,Ithinkyouaretryingtocorruptme.Hedidn’tdeny it.”

Thosewordspaleincomparisontothelyrical,beautiful proseIfoundintherestofthatstoryandalltheothers,in thenovels,eveninourconversations,buttherewas somethinginthosecoupleoflinesthatmademehaveto readmore.Thatissueincludedabriefinterviewand mentionedthatWilliamlivedinHohenwald,lessthana half-hourfromwhereIliveinLinden.Myinitialreaction was,whoisthisguyandwhyhaven’tIheardofhim?I didn’tshowuponthedoorstepofhisLittleSwanCreek cabin,butthefollowingOctober,attheSouthernFestival ofBooks,betweensessions,wespoke,madeabrief connectionaboutwherewelived,thatwebothgrewupin theSouth,andIaskedWilliamtothinkaboutcomingto MTSUwhereIteachandspeakingtomyliteratureclasses. HedidsothenextSpring,thefirstofmanytripswemade totheuniversityoverthenextelevenyears.

TheLostCountry andtheotherbooksinhisarchive werediscovered?

MICHAELWHITE:AfewweeksafterWilliamdied, William’syoungestsoncalledtosayheandWilliam’s otherson,Chris,hadthreetubsfullofWilliam’s notebooksandwouldIliketocomeandhelphimfigure outwhatwasinthere.Istayedupmostofthenightsorting thenotebooksintopilesbasedonthecharacters.William’s writingwasnearlyindecipherable.Manyofthenotebooks werefilledfronttobackwithtightlywrittenscript;many ofthepageshadnotesonthesidesofthepagesandacross thetopmargins,andlotsofthemhadwritingonbothsides ofthepage.Hedidnotcrosshist’sordothisi’s,somany ofthewordswereverydifficulttomakeout.

AsIwasgoingdownthroughoneofthetubstherewere somepagesoftypescript,yellowedtypewriterpaperwith notespenciledinbetweenthelinesandinthemargins. Theywerelooseinthetubbetweenacoupleoftheyellow padsandspiralboundnotebookshewasfondofwriting in.Atfirst,IthoughtitwascorrectionsWilliamhad wantedtomake,butwhenIlookedcloseritwasn’t William’shandwriting;thensuddenlyIrealized,witha shiver,theywereannotationsbyCormacMcCarthy. WilliamhadmentionedCormacMcCarthyhadreadan earlydraftof ProvincesofNight andhadcommentedonit linebyline.IwasrelievedtoseetheMcCarthy annotations.

Itdidn’ttakelongbeforeIsawpageswiththenamesof EdgewaterandRoosterfishinsomeofthenotebooks.I knewtheywerecharactersfrom TheLostCountry.There wereoverfiftynotebooksandIwoundupsortingthem intopilesbycategorieslike"WorksinProgress," "PublishedShortStories,""MusicWriting,"and "Notebooksfrom ProvincesofNight."Therewasalsoa typescriptofaratherlongstoryaboutacharacternamed PepperYates.ItwasoneofthefunniestpiecesofwritingI hadeverread.

Ifeltlikeadragonsittingonahordeofgoldandgems. WilliamJr.agreedIcouldcopythem.Itwasan excruciatingjob.Therewerenotesonthetopsofthe pages,andthetextranrightuptotheedgeofthepages.I hadtoholditonthecopierjustrighttogetitalltocopy. Whenhehadn’twrittenonbothsidesofthepages, Williamhadmadenotesonthebacksforinsertshewanted toputintothetextonthatpage.Ihadtowatchforthose andmakesurethecopieswereassociatedwiththeproper pages.Noneofthepageswasnumbered,andinsomeof thenotebookstherewouldbemultiplestories.Sometimes storiesorepisodesfromthenovelswouldstartorstopin mid-sentence,andadifferentstoryorepisodewouldstart uponthatpageorthenextpage.

Itwasobvioustherewasasignificantamountof unpublishedmaterial.Inoneofthenotebooks,Ifounda synopsisof TheLostCountry inadraftofalettertoan agent.Iranacrossasecondsynopsis,thisoneforabook called FugitivesoftheHeart.Ire-sortedthematerialto

separate TheLostCountry from FugitivesoftheHeart and usedthetwosynopsestohelpfigureoutwhatwentwhere. Inoneofthetubs,Ifoundalargesheafoftypescripts,and, luckily,thisonewasinprettygoodshape;thepageswere numberedandinorder.Herewasanothercompletenovel, thisonewithtwomaincharacters,onenamed Stoneburner,whowasaprivatedetective,andanother namedThibodeaux,whowasontherunwithabeautiful blondeandabriefcasefullofcash.Itwasanamazing story.Therewasanoldsheriffobviouslymodeledon BufordPusser,alocallegendinmiddleTennesseewho wastheinspirationforthemovie WalkingTall.AsIstarted readingit,IrememberedWilliamtalkingtomeaboutthe factthathehadwrittenanovelinthestyleofahardboiled detectivestoryandhadapublisherreadytopublishit.He calleditfilmnoironpaper.Then,justashewasreadyto publish,CormacMcCarthyreleased NoCountryforOld Men,astoryaboutadrugdealgonewrong,aprotagonist withabriefcasefullofmoney,andanoldsheriffonhis trail.Williamdecidedthatifhepublishedhisnovel,it wouldlooklikehehadstolenthestorylinefromCormac, andhewasalreadysensitivetocomparisonsofhisstyle withCormac’s.So,ashetoldme,hewithheldthe manuscriptfrompublication.

OnceIhadgonethroughallthenotebooks,Igotbackwith WilliamJrandChris,andwediscussedwhattodo.They encouragedmetoworkwiththepapersandmentioned thattherecouldbemoreintheatticofthehousewhere theywereraised.Ieventuallywenttothehouse,andit

wasthereIfoundthebulkof TheLostCountry intheattic oftheoldhouseWilliammovedoutofaround1992.He hadbuiltthehouseandraisedhisfourchildrenthere. Bookcasestookuponewholewalloftheatticandwere filledwithpaperbackbooks,coveredwithadeeplayerof spiderwebsanddust.Ihadneverseensomanyspider webs—theyhungfromtherafterslikeSpanishMoss,like gossamer.Theflooroftheatticwascoveredwith magazines,Iimmediatelysaw RollingStones and Playboys alongwithsomemoreliterarystufflike Harper’s and TheAtlantic.Attheendofthebookshelves,Ifound anoldcardboardboxandwhenIlookedinsideitwasfull ofhundredsofpagesofoldcheaptypingpaperinvarious stagesofdecay,somepageswithnumbers,mostnot.

WhenIgothome,IshowedSusanthebox.Sheopenedit withamixtureofcuriosityandrepulsiononherface becausetheboxsmelledlikestalesmokemixedwith mousedroppingsandwascoveredwithadeeplayerof grime.Thepaperwascheapandyellowandbrittlewith age,someofthepagescrumpledandcreased,a hodgepodgewithnoorderthatIcoulddiscern.Isawthat EdgewaterandRoosterfishwereintherealongwithan arrayofothercharactersthatIdidn’trecognize.

IrememberedWilliamtellingmehecouldn’tfindpartsof themanuscriptanddidn’tknowwhattodoaboutit.We talkedaboutrewritingit,butitwasobviousfromthisand otherconversationsthathehadnointerestinrewriting. Forhim,oncethepenhadmovedacrossthepaper,there wasnogoingback.

IknewfromtheworkIhadalreadydoneonthenotebooks thatthemaincharactersin TheLostCountry were Edgewater,Roosterfish,andBradshaw,anditdidn’ttake longtonoticeallthreeofthosenames.Thepaperswere notinanyorder.Thereweremanypageswithothernames thatIdidn’trecognize.Istartedsortingthepages,and,in theend,Ihadfivestacksofpages.Theywerestacked basedonthenamesofthecharactersthatshowedupon thosepages.IcouldeasilyseethatIhadabigportionof TheLostCountry hereandthatsomeofwhatIhadwasthe sameaswhatwasinthenotebooks,althoughitseemed thatsomewasnot.ThenIhadthreestacksthathadother charactersandrepresenteddifferenttimeframesaswell. Oneseemedtobesetinthe1800swithhorsesand wagons,anotherinthe1930s,andfinally,onebigstack thatrepresentedeventsin1980withcharactersnamed BinderandCorrie.Thisturnedouttobethemanuscriptof LittleSisterDeath. In TheLostCountry papers,Iwasthrilledtofindonepage thathad“TheEnd”writteninpencilatthebottom.And therewerepageswithhandwrittenpagenumbersinthe bottomright-handcornerandthepagewiththewords “TheEnd”wasnumbered231.Bytheendoftheweek,I hadallthepagesinplasticsheetprotectorsandhadtwo three-ringnotebooks,onefor TheLostCountry andone for LittleSisterDeath.ItseemedIhadmostof TheLost Country inorder.Onlyabouthalfofthepageswere numbered,sothatpresentedanotherpuzzle,althoughit wasn’ttoodifficultoncethestorylinebecameapparent.

However,thereweresomegapsinthetypescriptand especiallyattheendofthebook. Thisisaremarkablestorybecauseyouwereable,ina sense,towalkaroundinthemindofagenius.I rememberWilliamtellingmethatasaboyheusedto skipschooltowrite.Hewouldfindaspotunderatree towilethedayaway,workingonstories.Becausehe sometimesdidnothaveapen,he’duseastickfroma treeandscrapeouttheinsideofawalnuthullfor homemade“ink.”Whatwasastonishing,whenhe showedmetheearlywritings,wasthequalityofthat youngWilliam’swork.Hewasaprotege,andthe storiescameoutalmostfullyformed.Hetoldmehis editingconsistedofhandwritingthebook.Withthatin mind,whatdiditentail,typingthenotesforthis manuscriptintobookformandeditingthefinal version? MICHAELWHITE: Williamneverlookedback,and oncesomethingwaswritten,thatwasthat.Whenhe startedgettingpublishedin1998,hehadanarchiveof fourunpublishednovelsandwasworkingonnewthings allthetime.Hisoldwork,like Stoneburner and TheLost Country werejustoldmanuscriptstohim,and,apparently, hehadlosttrackofthem.Heknewhehadwrittenitbut hadnoideawheretheywerelocated.Perhapshisex-wife Dianehadputthemintheatticafterhemovedout.Who

knows?Itisstillamystery.

Ittookabouttwoyearstogeteverythinginthearchive typedup,toeditthepartsaltogether,andgetitintoafinal draft.Wehadsomehopesofbeingabletoscanthe typescriptsandworkonthemfromascannedcopy,butthe pageswereold,andthetypewriterprintwouldn’treadon thescannersinawaythatwouldallowustomanipulate thetext.So,wewerestuckwithtypingeverything,the handwrittenmanuscriptsandthetypescripts,intothe computer.

SusanandSheliawerethefirstonboardanddidthebulk ofthetyping.Plus,Lamonthasbeentheeditorofmylittle press(IbroughtouttwoofWilliam'sbookswhilehewas alive),andLamontworkedonthoseaswellasalltheother booksmypresspublished(eightandcounting).ThenPaul gotintouchandofferedtohelp,andeveryonecontributed byreadingandreadingandreadingagain,makingsurethe storyfittogetherproperlyandcorrectingtypos,etc. Luckily,wehadallthestory.TeamGayhasdone Little SisterDeath,Stoneburner,FugitivesoftheHeart, and The LostCountry alldiscoveredinthearchivealongwiththis collectionofshortstories.

SHELIAKENNEDY: MichaelemailedmeinJulyof 2012andtoldmethathehadsixteennotebooksfrom WilliamandwantedtoknowifIwasinterestedinhelping. Ijumpedatthechance!William’shandwritingmadethe jobdifficult,butthemoreItyped,theeasieritwastoread.

HisvocabularykeptmereferencingGoogletoseeifwhat Itypedwasactuallyaword,andIfoundthatnotonlywas itaword,butitwasalsotheperfectwordforthesituation. Googlewasalsoahugeassetwithbrandnamesandsong lyricsorliteraryreferences.Williamdidnotwritescenes inorder,andhewrotealongthemargins,sometimes indicatingwheretoincludethoselines,althoughoftenI hadtousemyownjudgment.

SusanandMichaelwerealsotyping,andbyOctober 2012,atthetimeoftheSouthernFestivalofBooks,we hadassembledaroughdraftof TheLostCountry.Michael andImetTomFranklinandGeorgeSingleton,both authorsandfriendsofWilliam’s,todiscusswhatwehad found.IremembertellingTomthatIfeltlikewehada greatpieceofworkbutreallydidn’thave“theend”ofthe novel.Inourroughdraft,wehadplacedthescenesin order—andtherewasanend—buttherewasnotenough materialtogettothatend.Littledidweknowthatinthe treasuretroveofnotebooksthatMichaelwoulddeliverto mefromanothertriptotheattic,wehadthemissing section.Edgewaterisinthecafewhenayoungman approacheshimandispimpinghiswifeontheir honeymoon.SheisthegirlwithEdgewaterattheend!

SUSANMcDONALD: ThetranscriptionofWilliam’s workwasatthesametimeexciting,challengingand daunting--excitingduetoparticipationinthediscoveryof William’sunpublishedwork;challengingduetothe

highlightsofmylife.

MICHELLEDOTTER: TheLostCountry waspretty daunting.MichaelWhiteandhissmallbandofWilliam's friendsandfanshadalreadyworkedtheirfingerstothe bonegettingthemanuscripttoapublishablestate,butthe bigquestionremainingwaswhethertoeditthebook heavily,aswemightanyfirst-draftbook,orwhethertolet itstandprettymuchasitwas.Thiswasanissuewe debatedforalongtimehereatDzancbeforeitfinallyfell tometomakethedecision.

Ultimately,Ichosetodoaverysparseedit,lookingfor factualerrors,typos,andgrammaticalissuesonly.I'mnot sureit'sthedecisioneveryonewouldhavemade.William's styleislushanddense—agoodfriendofhistoldme,with asmile,thatWilliamwouldneveruseonewordwhere threewoulddo.Therewerelineswecouldhavecut,or sceneswemighthavetrimmed.Butgiventhatthisbook wasfoundintheatticafterWilliam'sdeathandpieced togetherpagebypage,Iwasconcernedaboutauthenticity. Iwanteveryonewhoreadsthisbook,wholovesWilliam's work,toseehiminit,andnottoquestionwhetherany quirkofdialogue,description,orvoiceistheworkof someother,invisiblehand.

Williamoftentalkedabouthisbeliefinthe supernatural,hissuretythattherewas,indeed,more

Idrovethedarkhighwayswiththeradiotunedtoa countrymusicstation.Ifeltmyselfdrowning,inuredin woesinaphantasmagoriclandscapeoflostloveand betrayaluntilthesefolkbecamerealtome,Iwasone withthem.Ultimatelythenightandthebeerandthe trustingblackroadandthemusicseemedtoaltermy veryconsciousness,makingmeacharacterinthis singleunendingepicsongthatcametoseemnottobea songatallbutsomefolkstorieswhisperedandtoldbya vastandinfinitelycrowdedcastoffolkwhomoved irrevocablytowardinfidelitywithmasochisticgleeand adreadandnearmythicinevitability.

ItwasaWestTexasnight.Themoontrackinghigh abovemerenderedthesilverlandscapecoldand surreal.Istoppedandcutthelights,theswitch.Silence descendedandIgotoutintoit.Thedesertlooked timeless.Savethedarkhighwaybeseechingit,this couldbethedesertoftenthousandyearsagoorofsome vagueanduncharteredfuture.Iturned.Thetruck lookedanomolaic,Fortean.Abovemethedarkbowlof thenightskywasshotwithpinholesoflight.Iurinated andlitacigarette.Thehorizonwherethehighwayand skymettuggedmegentlyasifboundtomebya webbingofinvisiblewireandIgotbackintothetruck anddroveon.

Thethrillofreadingsomethinglikethatforthefirsttime wasindescribable.Iimmediatelysentitaroundtothe team.Wehadnoideawhereitfitorwhichbookit belongedto,sinceWilliamwouldwritesegmentsofworks inprogressinwhatevernotebookwas“athand”.However, thatpassageturnedouttobetheendingof Stoneburner and,likesomanyotherpieces,therewasnowhereelseit couldfit.

SHELIAKENNEDY: IactuallydidfeelWilliam’sspirit asIworkedonthemanuscript.Theintensityofhiseyesin aframedphotographonmybookshelfkeptmeworkingto getitright.

LAMONTINGALLS: Throughouttherecoveryand editorialprocesses,William’swrittenvoiceremainedin

MacAdam/Cage.Oncethislegalmatterwassettled, The LostCountry couldbecirculatedunencumbered. Therightsfor TheLostCountry and LittleSisterDeath, anothernovelrecoveredfromtheatticinLewisCounty, wereacquiredbyDzancBooks. LittleSisterDeath is William’sSoutherngothicretellingandupdatingof Tennessee’sBellWitchlegend.Thenovel,whichIalso editedandproofedasamemberofTeamGay,was publishedbyDzancinSeptember2015. TheLostCountry waspublishedinJuly2018.

MICHELLEDOTTER: Iwasn'ttheonewhoacquired TheLostCountry.Iactuallyinherited TheLostCountry frommypredecessoratDzanc,GuyIntoci,butWilliam Gayhadbeenonmyradaralotlongerthanthat.AsIsaid, myfirstjobinpublishingwasasaninternatMacAdam/ Cage,whichhadacquiredWilliam's Twilight and The LongHome fromMacmurray&Beck. AfterMacAdam/CagedissolvedandtheGayfamilywas finallyabletogetWilliam'srightsback,theyapproached DzancinpartbecauseGuyIntociandPatWalshwere associatedwiththepress.Guy,Pat,andIallworkedat MacAdam/Cagetogether,andIknowtheywerebothvery excitedtofinallybebringingthislegendarybookoutfor William'sfans,whohavebeenincrediblyloyaland patient.ThatneitherofthemwasworkingwithDzancby thetime TheLostCountry wasreadyforpublicationisjust oneofthosefunnyturnsofpublishing.IfeellikeI

inheritedsomanypeople'sloveandhopesforthebook, andIwantedtohonorthosehopesaboveallelse. Intermsofpromotion,allIcansayiswewereextremely luckythatthisbookalreadyhadanaudience,aswellasa groupofdedicatedfansandfriendsreadytochampionit. MichaelWhiteandcompany,aswellasSonnyBrewer,the dedicatedfolksattheSouthernindiebookstores,andthe wholevasthostofWilliam'sdevotedreadershavehelped usspreadtheword,andwe'vebeengratefulforgood coveragefromsignificantpapersandmagazines,too. Saleshavebeenlookinggoodsofar,andeveryone—from readerstobooksellers—hassupportedusandthebook fromdayone.Thishastrulybeenaworkoflove,and certainlynotjustbymeorthepress.I'veheardthat Williamwasaverygoodman,akindman,anditseemshe leftamarkonalotofpeople,whowerewillingtogothe distanceandhelpusgetthislostnovelintothelimelight. Notleastofall,SuzanneKingsbury.

departureinanywayfromhisothers?

PAULNITSCHE: Withintheposthumousreleases, The LostCountry ismoreconsistentwithWilliam’sother work. LittleSisterDeath and Stoneburner foundWilliam playingwithinthehorrorandcrimegenresthathewas fondof.WhenIwouldcomeacrosspicturesofWilliam’s cabin,Iwouldstudythebackgroundbookshelvesfor authorsandtitles.Amongthestacks,onecouldsee StephenKingandDanielWoodrelltitles,authorsthat certainlyinfluenced LittleSisterDeath and Stoneburner, respectively.Thesenovelsarestylisticallyabitofa departurefromhisotherbooks.Thelanguageand vocabularyaresimpler,lessdeveloped,andaremost likelyastabatpopularfictionbyWilliam. TheLost Country,ontheotherhand,seemstobeafullclaspof William’ssoutherngothicwritingandstyle.Likethe novelspublishedduringhislifetime, TheLostCountry followscharactersonthefringeofsociety,somemaking baddecisions,somevillainous,otherstryingtojustgetby. ThesefolksfeelfamiliartotheWilliamGayreader,as doesthelandscape,whichswingsfromthebucolictothe apocalyptic.Usinghiscraftedlanguageandphrasing, Williamdescribesthejourneysandhumorousanticsof someofhismostmemorablecharacters. TheLostCountry isoneofWilliam’sgreatestartisticstatements.

LAMONTINGALLS: Theexactinguseoflanguagethat

isoftenpoetic,thecreativedescription,theidiomatic conversationsandhumor,thefullydevelopedcharacters, andthesenseofinevitabilitythatmarkWilliamGay’s writingareallespeciallyevidentin TheLostCountry. However,thereisasenseof“lostness”inEdgewaterthatI thinkisdifferentindegreefromcharactersinhisother novels.Othersarerootedinplaceandfamilies,in Ackerman’sFieldortheHarrikin,andhavelocalhistories andkinfolkthatarepartoftheirstories.OnceEdgewater headsawayfromMemphisandhisbriefandtenuous connectionwithClaire,andtowardareunion,vaguely sensed,withhisdyingfatherinEastTennessee,heis travelingthroughacountrysideinwhichheisunknownto allhemeets.Hehasnokinalongallhishighwaysorinthe townsandhamletshewandersintoashetravelstoward theremnantsofhisfamily,presumablyinMonteagle, Tennessee.Likewise,thelanditselfdoesnotseemto containanyportionofhisprevioushistory,nomemories towhichhemightmomentarilyconnect.Thereareno townsthroughwhichhemayhaveoncepassed,orpersons hemayhavepreviouslyencountered.Asinthetraditional song,“WayfaringStranger,”Edgewateris“traveling throughaworrisomeland,”althoughwithoutthepilgrim’s hopeforfulfillmentattheendoftheroad.

MICHELLEDOTTER: Forme,WilliamGayisoneof thoseveryspecialwritersbecausehe'safavoriteofpeople intheknow—peoplewhodon'tjusthaveapassing acquaintancewithsoutherngothicliterature,butpeople

legendariumaroundthetownofAckerman’sFieldandhis hauntedforest,theHarrikin.WhileIwasonlyrequiredto researchandwriteaboutoneofWilliam’snovelsto supportmythesis,IfeltWilliamdeservedmoreandI endedupwritingabouthisentirebodyofworkandtwice theamountneeded.Mycriticalthesisadvisoralso suggestedthatanychaptersIwrotecouldbelater publishedinliteraryjournals.Fortunatelyforme,the editorof FivePointsReview wasatmygraduatelecture whereIspokeaboutWilliam’sworld-buildingtechniques andparticularlyhowthatplayedintohisartwork.Aftermy lectureMeganSextonaskedifIwouldwriteanessay abouthispaintingsandthatessaywaspublishedalong withaninterviewconductedbyMichaelWhitewith Williaminthe2020editionalongwithimagesof William’spaintingsandanimageofhismapof Ackerman’sFieldandtheHarrikin.I’vesincelecturedat theLostSouthernVoicesConferencetwiceandplantobe onafullpanelin2023,unlesssomethinglikeapandemic occurs. GEORGEDILWORTH:

he’dreadanextraordinarybook recentlycalled Twilight.Whenhe toldmetheauthor’sname, somethingclickedinmyhead,but whenIdidn’tcomeacrossthe bookathome,Iwenttothelibrary andfound TheLongHome and Twilight.(MyheroeswereWolfe, Fitzgerald,Faulkner,O’Connor, Saroyan,McCarthy...)Iread The LongHome firstandhadnotbeen enthralledbyawriter’swordslike thatsinceIread LookHomeward,Angel atsixteen! Twilight wasmesmerizing,stunning,anditfeltlikeIwas readingthebestofallmyheroescondensedinthisone incrediblygiftedwriter.Ofcourse,Ifoundmycopyof ProvincesofNight andafterwardsbeganlookingfor everythingIcouldfindthathe’dwritten.Iwantedtoknow everythingknowableaboutthemanwhowrotethese poemsofprose.ItmademeheartsicktothinkthatWilliam Gayhadonlybeeneighthoursawayfrommeallthese yearsandIhadnotheardofhim.Ikeptexpectingtobe disappointedatsomepointwithastory,essay,orbook, butitwasnottobe,Iremainedenchantedandhungryfor more.IrecognizedwhatJ.M.White,Ingalls,McDonald, Nitsche,andKennedyweredoingoutofpureadmiration forGay’sbodyofworkandwantedtothankand encouragethemtostickwithittotheend.So,Iwroteto MichaelattheaddressIfoundinmycopyof TimeDone

BeenWon’tBeNoMore. Hewaskindenoughtoreplyand wefoundourselvescorresponding.Inaconsiderateactof generosity(tostaveoffmycraving)hesentmethreeor fourpagesfrom FugitivesoftheHeart tofeastonandtell himwhatIthought.Iprinteditoffandreaditseveral times,operatingonwhatmywifecallsmy“teacher spirit”,correctingpunctuation,spelling,addingand removinghyphens,makingcomments,etc.Imailedit back,hopingtobehelpful,andapologeticifitappeared otherwise.Tomygoodfortuneanddelight,Michael welcomedtheadditionalassistanceandhascontinuedto allowmetheprivilegeofplayingatinypartinbringing thishypnoticmaterialtoprint.

RANDYMACKIN:AfterdiscoveringWilliam’sworkin 1999,IreadeverythingIcouldbyhimandabouthim. LuckyforthoseofuswhosoadmirewhatWilliamwas abletodo,thatfirstnovelwasfollowedfastuponby anotherandhisfirstcollectionofshortstories,plus Williamwasbeingpublishedinallthosemagazineswhose editorshadrejectedhisworkearlierinhiscareer.Iknew Williamhadconsiderableunpublishedwork,hehadtold meso,andthatwasnosurpriseconsideringhe’dbeen writingfordecades,honinghiscraft.Nowritersuddenly burstsintotheliterarylandscapewithanovelasfully imaginedandrealizedas TheLongHome withouthaving spentyearsdevelopingsuchadistinctvoice.Wehad talkedextensivelyabout TheLostCountry,Williamhad sharedpartsofitwithmeandothersinmanuscript,and

acopyof Provinces. Well…Icouldn’tputthebookdown. IboughteverybitofWilliam’swritingIcouldfind.Then onedayIfoundthisemailaddressforoneJMWhitein oneofthebooks.Ican’trememberwhichbookitwas,but Iwroteanotetomyselfandforgotaboutit.Several monthslater,goingthroughmystackoftornpapers, stainedbarnapkins,acoupleofnotatedparkingtickets andothernotesonthisscreenplayIwaswritingatthe time,Iranacrossthememoandthoughtwhatthehell,if somethingcomesofitthatwouldbegreat.IemailedJM White.IfyouknowanythingaboutlivinginLAandyou dealeverydaywithsomeofthe“sweetassholes”inthe filmbusiness,yourealizethatmostemailsareusually unread.Iwasexpectingthat.It’samazinghowonelittle emailcancreatesuchawonderfultempestinyourmind whenIdidgetareturnfromJMWhite.Icalledhimand wetalkedforawhileaboutnovelsandshortstoriesand otherwriting,andthesubjectmovedtoscreenplaysand thefilmbusiness.Imentionedtohimthat,iftheoccasion everarose,Iwouldbeveryinterestedindoingthescreen adaptationfromoneofWilliam’snovels.Well…tomy greatsurprisehementioned Stoneburner. Ittookmeabout eightmonthstowritethescript.Itriedtostayascloseto thenovelasIcouldasWilliamchangedlocationsalot withoutanytransitions.Whichishardtodoinafilm.If I’mcorrectWilliamsaidthiswashis“FilmNoiron paper.”Believeme,Iwantedtoincludetransitionsalong theway,butMichaellovinglyheldmyfeetclosetothe fire.He’sprettydamnquickandhandyredliningyourshit

soIheldevenclosertothenovel.Tomakethisshort,the restishistory.IamhonoredthatMichaelgavemea chancetobeapart,eventhoughinaroundaboutway,of William’slifeandlegacy.AsIwaswritingthescript,I couldfeelWilliam’spresenceandIwouldoccasionally talkoutloudtohimastohowhemeantacertainsceneto playout.Ilovepaintingpictureswithwords,andasyou allknow,Williamheldawidepaintbrushwithmany colors.Ifeelwewouldhavebecomegoodfriendshadwe met.It’sashamethattheworldhaslostthisgreattreasure butwhatheleftusinhischaractersandstoriesispriceless andIshallneverforgetthat.Mylifeandwritingand artworkhavebeeninfluencedbeyondmywildestdreams byWilliamGay.Thankyabuddywhereveryouare,wishI couldhaveadrink(oreight)withyourightnow.And thankyouMichaelWhitefortheopportunity.Iwouldlove tocreatefilmprojectsfromsomeofhisshortstories.What ahootthatwouldbe...

aboutmeusingtheirwritingfortheclass.Italkedonthe phonewithTom,Williamwasalittlemorereclusive(yet veryhappytohavehisworkstudiedatthecollege),but bothwereeasytointeractwith,noegosorpretentious bullshit.IalsoalwayschucklethinkingabouthowWilliam knewStephenKingwasgonnacallhim,butheletthe phonering.Thatispunkrock.

SUSANMCDONALD: IwasmovedbyWilliam's shynessandhumilityevenafterhewasawell-recognized andrespectedauthor.Heseemedtosufferalittlebybeing inalargepubliceventduringwhichhehadtoreador speak.Assoonashispartwasover,hewantedto"getout ofthere".OnoneoccasionataradioeventinFranklin, Tennesseewhichwasheldinavenuethatsoldfood,the owneraskedhimtostayandeatandWilliamjustwanted toleaveandgohome.Wehadpickedhimupandwere drivinghimbacksowerehappytodowhathewanted. Butweknewhehadtobehungrybecausehehadnot eatenforhours.Theownerthenaskedifhewouldlike somefoodtotakeawayandWilliamwasthrilledwiththe offer.Heasked"Doyouhaveanyfriedgreentomatoes? andfortunatelytheydid.So,Williamleftwithaboxfull offriedgreentomatoesandbarbecueandwasdelighted. OneyearattheBookFestivalinNashvillewhereWilliam wasaspeaker,tablesweresetupaftereventssoauthors couldsignbooks.Iwasinlinetogetabooksignedby CharlesFrazierandhappenedtobestandingnexttoMrs.

Frazier.WesomehowbegantalkingaboutWilliamwho wasatatablenearby.ShesaidthatCharleswasvery anxioustomeetWilliambuthadnothadanopportunity andwasafraidhewouldleavesoon,soMichaelandItook himoverandintroducedhimtoWilliam.Theyturnedout tobeadmirersofeachother.

RANDYMACKIN: NowaycanIlimitmyexperiences toafavoritestorybecauseineveryencounter—mostlyin mycar,oronthephone,orvisitinginthebook-linedwalls ofhishome—somethingmemorablehappened.Onestory, however,seemsparticularlyimportantandappropriateto thiscollection.InMarchof2011,whenIpulleduptohis houseforatriptoMTSU,Williamwascomingoutthe frontdoorontotheporch.Hewaswearinghisusual:jeans, aprintshirt,tennisshoes,andhewasslippingonwhathe calledhis“writer’sjacket,”ablacksportscoatwithsatiny lapels,somethinghe’dpurchasedataGoodwillstore.He wascarryingaMasonjarofblackcoffee.Assoonashe satdowninthecar—nohello,howareyou,chit-chat— Williamsaid,“Ifinishedanewstorylastnight.”Onour waybacktoHighway412,followingthecurvesofLittle SwanCreekandcuttingthroughthatmorning’sfog, Williamtoldmeaboutthestory,withaworkingtitleof “AshesofLove”fromtheoldJim&Jessesong—atune hesaidwasquotedinthistaleaboutapenisinafruitjar andthemanwhofindsitandtriestoblackmailanold womantofulfillhisowndesignsonhergranddaughter.I toldWilliamI’dlovetoreadit.Hesaiditwasstillin

longhand,butIcouldtakealookifheevergotittypedup. Ofcourse,thatdidn’thappen.Williamwasgonelessthan ayearlater.But,thatdayintwoofmyclasses,William sharedthenewsabouthisstorywithmystudents,told themhowtheideahadoriginatedfromatwenty-yearold newspaperclippingaboutawomanwho’drobbedher husband’scorpseofhisprivatepartbecauseshedidn’t wanthimenjoyingitintheafterlife,theunfaithfulwayhe hadinthisone.Mystudentsheardfirsthandfromawriter whatitwasliketofinishastorybutalsohowthatpieceof fictiondevelopedfromastranger-than-fictionrealevent, andhowWilliamhadshapeditintoanexplorationof humannatureandselfishnessandmanipulation.Ididnot seethatstoryuntilIbeganeditingthismanuscript,and thereitwas,withadifferenttitle—“Tidewater’sEden”— andIthinkit’sthebestpieceinhiscollection,anexample ofWilliamattheheightofhiswritingpowers. DAWNMAJOR: Ididn’tknowWilliampersonally.He passedawaybeforeIwasevenawareofhiswriting.My experiencesallrelatetomeetingthosewhoknewhim.IfI metanauthorthatIknewwasafriendofWilliam’s,I wouldmakeapointofgettingastoryoutofthem.George Singletonwasthekeynotespeakeratmygraduationwhen IgotmyMFAincreativewritingandwhenImethim,I immediatelyaskedhimtoshareWilliamGaystorieswith me.Intruth,IwasnervousbecauseGeorgeisoneofmy all-timefavoriteshortstorywriters.Iwantedtoaskhim abouthiswork,butIbasicallyskimmedoverhimand

launchedintoWilliam.Itwaskindofrudereally,butI’ve embarrassedmyselfbeforeinfrontofwritersIadmireand I’msuretodoitagain.Georgeisaslikableashisstories andwasgraciousaboutit.Laterthatnight,wewereall hangingoutinmydormroomandinwalksGeorgewitha caseofPBRandthosestoriesaboutWilliam.Istillhave onecanofPBRfromthatnight.Asforthestories,I’lllet GeorgesharethosewhenWilliam’sbiographyis published.

MICHAELWHITE:AfterWilliamdied,Ispentasmuch timeasIcouldaffordinHohenwaldandinterviewedall hisfamilymembers.Therewerenophonecallsinvolved,I justshowedupattheirhousesandeveryoneseemedhappy toseeme.Atfirst,Iwantedtocallandmakeappointments butquicklylearnedthattheGayfamilydidn’toperatethat way,itwasperfectlyfinetojustdropinwheneverIwasin town.So,Iwouldsittherewithayellowpadonmyknee andtakenoteswhileIaskedthemquestionsabouttheir lifewithWilliam.Once,talkingtohisbrotherCody,he toldmeaboutatimeWilliamwaslivinginanoldhouse andwhenhewouldvisit,theywouldsitandtalkinthe livingroomandtherewasthisbigspiderwhowould inevitablycomeoutandroamaroundtheroom.Codyeyed thespiderandmotionedtoWilliamtomakesurehesawit, butWilliam’sonlyresponsewas,“Yeah,heliveshere.” ThatwasWilliam,heneverownedagun,andnever huntedandneverkilledathing,notevenaspider.

Astofavorites,justone?Really?Imustmention

ProvincesofNight,becauseIloveUncleBrady’s character.UncleBradywasthedecidingfactorinmy conclusionthatWilliam’sworkscouldbeviewedthrough botharealisticfictionallensandaspeculativefictionlens. It’skindofbrilliantreally.Ifyouchoosetonegatethe paranormalandcontendthatthosesupernaturalelements inhisworkscanbeexplainedawaybydreams,dementia, poorvisionoroldagethenWilliam’sendingsbecome vaguer.However,ifyoupracticethewillingsuspensionof disbelief,meaningUncleBradyhadthepowershe claimedtopossess,thentheevilwizardwon.Ialsolove theOedipusRexconnotationssurroundingthat novel…UncleBradykilledhisfathertobewithhis mother.ItamazesmethatWilliamwascompletelyselftaughtbasedonthesheernumberofallusionsfrom philosophy,literature,religion,music,poetry,andeven physics;onewouldthinkyouweredealingwithan academicwhohadanextensiveeducation. Icannotpossiblysticktoonequote,either. Whenyousee“Somethin’sgointohappen”itmeans somethingterribleisabouttooccur.Thisphraseoccursin LittleSisterDeath, Twilight,and TheLostCountry and eachtimetheprotagonistsignorethewarningoromenit’s tohis(protagonistsaremale)detriment.Ialwaysimagine Williamchucklingtohimselfwhenhewrotethatphrase.

In LittleSisterDeath,SwawandBinderboththinkthese wordswhileintheorchard,in Twilight Sutterisdescribed aswaitingoutsideforTylerandwaitingforsomethingto

happen,andin TheLostCountry SudytellsEdgewatershe sawanomenandshespeaksthesewordslikesomeportent ofdeath.Readersfamiliarwithwhathappensafterthese wordsoccurinaWilliamGaystoryshouldrecognizethe protagonistisinforaride,andnotajoyride.Ilikenitto scryinginamirrorandrepeatingaspellthreetimes.If wordsaremagical,andIbelieveWilliamfelttheywere, then“Somethin’sgointohappen”isacurse.

Thesecondexampleisn’tjustonequoteorphrase.The fourpages(98-101)priortoBookTwoof Twilight areway toolongtoquote,soI’lljustmentionwhatIfound appealing.Thereal-timenarrationismomentarily suspendedasthesupernaturalworldoftheHarrikinopens itsdoorstoTylerandSutter.Itstartswithinstructionstold insecond-personpoint-of-viewgivingthereader directionstotheHarrikin,andWilliampilesonpoetic languagehere—theinitialsentencelastssixlines.William endsitbytellingthereadertheantagonist(Sutter)and protagonist(Tyler)are“fleeingchronologically” backwards.Essentially,they’regoingintothepast. Finally,Ilovethelanguageofthescenedescribedbelow from ProvincesofNight becauseit’ssobeautifully constructedandIcanenvisionitevenbetterbecause William(maybe)paintedit.MichaelWhitepointedthis outtome,andItendtoagree.

Thefeelingthatoffsomewhereinthebrackenman andboystillwalkedroseinhimnorwoulditabate. Withtheirstepslockedinsyncwithhis,theypaced

himinthesilentblackwood,passedthroughthe bolesoftreeslikerevenants.Amoonthecolorof yellowedivorycradledupoutofthedarkandhe couldseethemmovingthroughthetreestransparent aswater,insubstantialasahandfulofsmoke(72-73). Thecoverfor TimeDoneBeenWon’tBeNoMore isa twilightsceneofawhitecottagesetbackfromtheroad withsmokepipingfromthechimneyandinbetweenthe woods,ifyoulookclosely,arethesedarkformsthatdon’t seemtobelongtothepainting,butyoucaneasilyimagine they’retherevenantsFlemingwalkedamongst.

MATTSNOPE: While Provinces remainsmyfavorite andIthinkWilliam’smagnumopus,Ikeepreturningto LittleSisterDeath.I’maskepticofsupernaturalthingsby nature,butthere’ssomethinggenerallycreepyaboutthat book,andIcanreaditoverandover.Iloveitsblendof almostclinicaldescriptionsofevil,violence,insanity,and incest,yetit’salsoasemi-autobiographicalbookabout Williamtryingtobebothawriterandlovingfamilyman.

GEORGEDILWORTH: Isupposeit’spossibletohave afavoritebookbyWilliam,butwhenyoureadthemover andoverasIdo,yourfavoriteisever-changing.Right now,it’s FugitivesoftheHeart.Beforethat,itwas The LostCountry.Forshortstories,asamain-lineaddict,there aretoomanyfavoritestochoosefrom…however,highon

thelistwouldbe ThePaperhanger,Sugarbaby,and NighttimeAwakenings. Sugarbaby isagemofa tragicomedy.Acommentaryonaman’s(mostly)futile attemptstohumblehimselfandconquerhispride.Gay couldhaveincludedthequotefromJeremiah17:9onthe titlepage:“Theheartismoredeceitfulthananythingelse andmortallysick.Whocanfathomit?”Asimpletale,yet, soakedwithinsightonthenatureofman.

Asfarasafavoritequote,thereagain,fromtheworksof Gayyou’reaskingtheimpossible.Therearesimplytoo many.However,becausetheyaresoeasilyfoundinallhis books,Ishallselectoneforthepurejoyofsettingitdown. “Lyingtheresleepingonthemossyconcrete,hisface jerkingwiththetroubledpassageofhisdreams,heis provisionallystillbrothertoallhumankind.Hehasstrayed farfromthewaysofmen,buttherehasalwaysbeena kindoftwistedlogictohisviolence.Thethingshedesired andstruggledformadeakindofsense.Revenge,avarice, athirstforpower.Thethingsonlydreamedbynormal men.Theirownsecretdreamsmadecarnateand ambulatory.Silverthreads,thinandfrayedthoughtheybe, holdhimyettothewaysoftheworld.Hereinthenight theypartandthetiesgiveonebyoneandhefallsaway likesomewingedpredatorintoanothercountry,darkand unmappedandturbulent,sothatheisfinallyfreefromall restraint,lost.”(Twilight, pg.139,)

Interestingnote:Icouldnotfindtheword“carnate”inany ofmydictionaries.Goingonline,Idiscoveredthatthe

wordcanonlybefoundintheMerriam-Webster UnabridgedDictionaryandiscompatiblewith “incarnate”.ReadingGayisalsoafunandfascinating studyofwords.

RANDYMACKIN: Whilehisnovelsareoutstanding,I thinkWilliamwasathisbestwhencomposingshort stories.Wetalkedaboutshortfictionagreatdealinour literaryconversations,heequatedshortstorieswithpoetry inthatbothgenrestrytotakealifetimeofexperienceand compressitintoafewlinesorafewpages.William believedthatshortstoriesweremoredifficulttowritethan novelsbecauseeverywordisimportantandthere’snone ofthewiggleroomthatanovelmightprovidethewriter. StoryendingswereimportanttoWilliam,hetoldmethat heworkeddiligentlyontheclosingsofstories,tryingto gettheendingsexactlyright.When“IHatetoSeeThat EveningSunGoDown”wasadaptedintothefilm, That EveningSun,Williamtoldmehefeltthefilmmakerdidan excellentjobtakinghisshortstoryandexpandingitintoa full-lengthfeature—exceptfortheendingwhichWilliam referredtoasa“biggrouphug.”Heacknowledgedand understoodthatfilmmakershavedifferentaudience concernsthanwriters,butIrememberhimtalkingabout howhardheworkedonthatstory’sending.Becauseof thatrevelation,ItendtolookattheendingsofWilliam’s storiesbecausetheygarneredsomuchofhisattention. Theclosinglinesof“IHatetoSeeThatEveningSunGo Down”areamongmyfavorites:

compassionandasenseofhumorthat’softenmissingin Cormac,eventhoughbothhavesimilarbackgroundsand writeaboutsomesimilarthings.WhereCormacisjaded andbleak,Williambringsaninnocenceandcuriosity abouttheworldthatisverytouching.

RANDYMACKIN:Asanacademic,posthumousworks havesometimesbeendifficultformetoaccept.I’vehad somethingofachangeofheart,though,whilehelpingedit thiscollection.We’llhaveverylittleunpublishedmaterial fromWilliamafterthesewordsareinprint.Liketrue addicts,we’llcraveanotherfix.I’mgladtoseeallthese finalwords—fullyformedshortstories,fragments, meanderings,whatevertheymightbe—findingahome betweenthecoversofabook.Aretheseposthumous worksintheirentiretyasgoodasthebookspublished duringWilliam’slife?Some,yes;others,no.Buttheyare essentialandneedtobepublishedbecausethesewordsare allwehave.Here,theconcernofeditorsisthereading public,thoseouttherewhowon’tbesateduntiltheyhave accesstoallofWilliam’swords.Itisforthem,Ithink, theseremainingpagesneedtobeinprint.

GEORGEDILWORTH: Gayhasbeenfairlycriticizedat timesforredundancy.I,too,haveseenwhatthecritics saw...onlydifferently.Earlierinhislife,weknowthat CormacMcCarthypointedthisouttohim,andIthink Williamtookittoheart.Afterwards,whenhewas

redundant,hediditdeliberately.Usually,repetitioncalls forattention,acloserlook,asecondthought.Ibelievehe useditthatwaytomakeyourecallasceneorimageand becausehelikedthewayitsoundedandwhatitsaidto him,andhechosetokeepit.(Mighthehavesaid,“Who’s tellingthisyarnanyway?”)Withtheposthumousworks, beginningwiththeearlywritten LittleSisterDeath,I begantoseethewayWilliamhonoredthescribeswhohad inspiredandtaughthimsomuchthroughhisownoriginal, authenticlanguage.Michael’safterwordin TheLost Country,linkingthegenreswithbooksandauthor’sGay admired,wasfascinatingandfitwellwithmythoughtson thematter.WilliamGayissomethingnew,aproductofall hisinfluencesforgedinfire.Hisisarich,vivid,and hauntingvoicelikenoother.

DAWNMAJOR: Whatpleasedmethemostfrom reading/editingthefinalworks,wasthevalidationIfelt aboutclaimingWilliamwascreatingaSouthern mythology.Theseworkscontinuedtosupportmytheory. Thereareprobablysomefolksouttherewhodisagree,but forme,heemployedthesameworld-building techniques—painting,mapping,meticulousattentionto climate,terrain,plantlifeandwildlife,andrepetitive settingsandcharacters—asfamousworld-buildingauthors suchasJ.R.R.Tolkien.Isuspect,ifhehadtheeducation, background,andtimethatsomeonelikeTolkienhad, Ackerman’sFieldandtheHarrikinwouldhavebeen articulatedatafargranderscale.

wouldhavebeenannoyedbymebecauseonethingI’ve alwaysbeenabitonthefenceabouthisuseofthecomma splice.Butatthesametime,itgiveshiswritingaunique character,andhavingacorpusofwritingpublishedwhile hewasalivehelpedwiththeposthumousstuff.

SUSANMCDONALD: Ibelievetheposthumousworks areasgoodasthosepublishedwhilehewasalive. However,withoutthemeticulouscareandconcernof JamesMichaelWhite,noneoftheposthumousworks wouldhaveseenthelightofday.Havingbeenawitnessto thejumbledstateoftheunorderednotebooksandscattered writingsdiscoveredinthatatticthatultimatelybecamethe posthumouswritings,ittookcountlesshours,daysand weeksspentoutofloveandrespectforWilliamputting thewritingsintotheorderinwhichWilliamintendedso theycouldbepublished.

GEORGEDILWORTH: Obviously,Ivalueeverypiece ofcompositioneverpublishedbythisman.Gaywasatthe peakofhispowerslongbeforehisdeathandthework discoveredathishome,andintheatticofhisformer home,containedmaterialbotholdandnew,noneofwhich Iconsidertobeinferior(someunfinishedandgroping aboutwithideasperhaps,butnotinferior).Therefore,I findtheposthumousmaterialequalto(ifnotsurpassing) thematerialpublishedpriortohisdeath.

Feelfreetoaddanythoughts,observations,memories, etc.ifyouhaveanythingyouwanttosay.

RANDYMACKIN: Lookingback,itseemsoddtome thatWilliamandInevertalkedaboutspiritualmatters,or theafterlife,orwhatnotionswehadaboutthoseissues.A fewmonthsafterWilliam’sdeath—andjustweeksafter hisyoungestdaughterLaura’spassing—ImetWilliam’s otherdaughter,Lee,forlunchataHohenwaldrestaurant. Wereminisced,swappedstories,talkedaboutwhatmight happennextwithhiswork.Lee,alsonowdeceased,made acoupleofcommentsthathavealwaysstuckwithme,and Idon’tthinkshewouldhavemindedmesharingthem here.Leesaid,“Daddyalwayswantedtoseeaghost.”She thoughtherfatherhadquestionsaboutthelifeafterthis oneandseeingaghostmighthaveproventohimthat existencedoesgooninsomeformafterwehave“shuffled offthismortalcoil.”Andshetoldmethisstory:theday LeewenttothemortuarytopickupWilliam’sashes, someone’sphonerangwhileshewaswaiting,andthe personhadawhippoorwillringtone.Leesaidasenseof calmpassedoverher,asifherfatherwassendinghera messagethateverythingwasokay,thathewaswhere whippoorwillscallastheydoinmanyofthequiet momentsofhisfiction.WhereverWilliamis,Ihopeit’sa placeliketheonetheautobiographicalEdgewaterfound whenhewakedafteraforlornnightinthewoods,quoted

fromamanuscriptpageWilliamsharedfrom TheLost Country: "Buthisheartwasliftingandhisfeetfeltfleetandlight. Thedaywasnewandunusedandthisdaywasonethat hadneverexistedbeforeandhesawitasafootpaththat ledintoaworldthatwassensualandmanyfacetedand complexbeyondhisunderstanding,butforthemomenthe wascomfortableinitandroofsandshelterandill weatherswerethingsofnomoment.Hethoughttheonly dwellingheneededwastheunconfinedandunwalled worlditself."

MATTSNOPE: Ifthereisanafterlife,IknowWilliamis inagoodplace.Iimaginehimwithhisfeetinacool creek,happilywritinglonghandonlegalpads.Iknowthat hislifewasn’talwayseasy,butIamsogladhestucktohis gunsandpursuedhisgift.Theworld’sbetterforit.Ialso thinkhe’sagoodrolemodelformen,inthatWilliamwas bothtoughasjerkyandalso,obviously,verysensitive, observant,andpoetic.

DAWNMAJOR: Itwasagreathonortobepartofthis process.Whilethisisthe“end”ofhisfinalworks,it’s reallythebeginningofmyjourneywithWilliambecause (tothechagrinofmypoorhusband),I’mnevergoingto stoptalkingabouthim.Ihopetocontinuetowrite,lecture, andadvocateforWilliam.Infact,thereasonIstarted

bloggingandadvocatingforlivingSouthernauthorson mywebsitewww.dawnmajor.comwasbecauseIsawthe needafterworkingwithTeamGaytopromoteSouthern authors. BecauseWilliam’sworkissovariedthereare multipleavenuestoexploreandpotentialforacademic research.Itouchedonhistreatmentoftimeandroad narrativesinthearticleabouthispaintings(anothervast subject)IwroteforWellRead’sNovemberedition: “MysteryOutsidetheFrame:AnAnalysisofWilliam Gay’sLiteraryLandscapes.”Ialsowroteabout supernaturalismintheOctobereditionofWellRead:“A SouthernMythology:AnExplorationoftheSupernatural intheWorksofWilliamGay.”Whilethisarticleisvery thorough,IseriouslythinkIcouldwriteanentirebookon thesubject.Thereasonitissoimportantwecontinueto delveintothesedifferentareasisbecausethereissolittle academicworkoutthereonWilliam.Itishardtoimagine, butitistrue.IalsobelievewecouldopenWilliam’s readershipupifhelandedonsomeotherbookshelvesand sincehewasblendinggenres,heshouldbeconsiderednot justasagreatSouthernGothicwriter,butalsoasahorror andmagicalrealismwriter.

SUSANMCDONALD: Itwasclearfromhisworks, fromhismanuscriptsandnotebooks.thathewas unorganizedandseverelylackinginresources,even enoughnotebookssothathedidnothavetowritein marginsoronthebackofpages.Tothinkofwhathecould haveaccomplishedbyhavingequipmentsuchas

computersonwhichtocompose,edit,andsavecopy wouldhaveincreasedthenumberofhisworks,saved thosethatweknowwerelostandaddedtohislegacy althoughhemaynothaveeverwantedtowriteinany otherwaybutlonghand.

Williamwasamanofgreatcuriosityinalmosteveryarea ofliteratureandmusicandifhemetsomeoneversedinan areainwhichhehadlittleknowledge,thatpersonhadhis unwaveringattentionwhilehelistenedandlearned.Iam mostcaptivatedbyWilliam'snaturetobedrawntothe paranormal,occult,andmysterious.Thiswasevidentin hisdesiretopersonallypursuetheBellWitchlegendand theresultingimpactithadonhim.Hefeltsomething unearthly,anditstayedwithhimafterleavingthescene whereitallhappened.Hisscenessetincemeteries, forests,anyplacein"fulldark",andabandonedshacksand cabinscreatedavisceralauraofapprehension,fear,evil andevenhorror.In LittleSisterDeath thesnakewasa metaphoricalexampleofthis.

IthinkofWilliamaspersonifiedin TheLostCountry by Edgewater,amanwithgreatprincipleswhocouldn'tput upwithanybullshit,whoguardedhisprivacyandwas alwayssearching.Iknowhelovedhischildrentoafault andthathewasgratefulforhisfriends,butIbelievehe thrivedonbeingalonetothink,writeandcreate.

Notefromtheeditor:

Thiswrapsupthefourpartseriesontheinterestingwork,art,andlifeof WilliamGay.IhopeyouenjoyeditasmuchasIdid.Ican’tthankthe membersofTEAMGayenoughforsharingthesestorieswithour readers.

I’vebeenafanofWilliamGay’sworkforyearsbutIwasn’tlucky enoughtomeethim.LearningaboutwhoWilliamwasaperson,andwho hewasasafriend,hasbeenagreatexperience.

IwanttothankJ.M.Whiteforsharinghisfantasticintroductionof WilliaminSeptember’sissue, WilliamGay:ALifeofWriting,andfor thismonth’sarticle.AspecialthanksgoestoDawnMajorforher incredibleworkforOctoberandNovember’sessays. ASouthern Mythology:AnExplorationoftheSupernaturalintheWorksofWilliam Gay,and MysteryOutsidetheFrame:AnAnalysisofWilliamGay's LiteraryLandscapes. Itwasanhonorandapleasure.

THEPITbyWilliamGay

(Theunpublishedchapteroftheoriginal manuscriptnowknownas TheLongHome)

HisnamewasDallasHardin,butthishadnotalways beenso.GrowingupinCullman,Alabama,hehadbeen namedHerrin.Hislegswerelongandungainlyandleant himastiltedbirdlikelooksoitwasinevitablethatfolks wouldthinkofhimasHeron.Behindhisback.Nobody everthoughtittohisface;earlyonhehaddisplayeda naturalfacilityforcuttingfolkswithpocketknivesand beforehewaseighteenhehadwaylaidandkilledtheman hesuspectedofimpregnatinghissister,notoutofany deepfilialaffectionbutoutofsomefiercesenseofpride andoutrage,thefeelingthatthefataldeedhadbeen contemptuousofhim,haddeemedhimnothreattobe reckonedwith.Folksknewhediditbuttheydidntsay thattohisfaceeither.Hehadcarriedthebodytoan abandonedhouseplaceandrolleditoffintoadrycistern andcovereditwithstones.SohewasMrHerrintohis enemiesandacquaintances.Hedidnthaveanyfriends.

HewasstillMrHerrinthatdayinAugustwhenhewas onhiskneesafewyardsfromhiswhiskeystill.Hehad thebladeofhispocketknifeundertherootofastalkof ginsengandwascarefullypryingitfreewhenheheardthe hammerclickbackandhewasrunningfromtheground upwithfeetandarmsaswell:intheintervalbetweenthe dryclickthatmighthavebeenastickbreakingbutwasnot andthevoicecalling"Holdit"hewasupandgone.The manwatchinghisflightdownthebluedlengthofrifle barrelstayedhisfirenotoutofanycompunctionfor backshootingbutoutofsimpleawethathumanlegscould sodevourthedistance.Hewasfairlyflyingtowardthe mouthofthehollow.Thegovernmentagentjustlowered hisgunandwatchedhimgoandstoodgrinningand listeningtothebrushpopinavolumethatdiminishedwith Herrin'sprogressandthensquatteddowntoresthislegs andtowaitforthethreemenatthehollow'scedared mouthtostepfromhiding.

Whichtheydid.Herrinwasthreedaysandnightsinthe Falkvillejailwhilehisyoungwifepleadedwithherfather tosignhisbond.Soonthefourthnighthewasableto arisefrombesidehersleepingbodyandwithshoesand overallsinhisarmspassnakedandspectrelikefromthe muskydarkofthecabintotheshadow-latticedmoonlit yard.Hepulledontheoverallsandshoesandthenmoved furtivelyoutoftheyard.

Hefledthroughthesleepingcountrysidehehadbeen raisedinwithoutlookingbackortotheside.Themoon rodehighandremoteoverhisleftshoulder,wroughthis shadowfearfulandtwistedaheadofhimonthedusty roadbed.Allelbowsandjointsandangleshelookedlike somethinghalfcomicalandhalfmenacing,somedark experimentgoneawryandescaped.

HecrossedtheTennesseelineonthebackofa sideboardedtruckloadofscrapiron,oldcultivatorsand hayrakesandmowerschainedandunsureoftheir mooringssothattheykepthimwaryandconstantly shiftinghispositionamongthesemobileanddeadly shadows.

KnownnowtohimselfasDallasHardin(theHardin afteragunfighterhereadaboutinaStreetandSmith westernmagazine)heprogressedacrosswestandtoward middleTennesseeandbesidestheclothingheworehe possessedthreethings:apairofdice,apackofcards,and afightingcock.Thedicewereloadedandthecards markedandiftherehadbeenanywaytoshavetheedge forthecockhewouldhavedonethattoo:thecockhebore alonginaburlapbaglikeabrightfamiliarandfedon cornhehusbandedfromfarmers'fields,perhapsthe selfsamefarmershehadrelievedofgreasygreenbacks, themcursingtheirdeadroostersbutdraggingouttheir

walletstopayhim.Forthecockwasvicious,anugly compositeofmeannessandambition,ascaled-downand featheredmodelofhimselfperhaps.

SwingingeastthroughLawrencecountyhemisjudgeda farmer'sgullibilityandthenumberofhissons.Helostthe cockandafiftydollarsetofcockheelshehadinturnstolen fromsomebodyelseandhelostaswellagreatdealofthe skinoffhisface.Heawokeamiledowntheroadface downinagullychokedwitholdcastoffautotiresandold carseatsandamotleyofgarbage.

Ifamancanbesaidtohaveastartinlifethensurely thiswashis.Goingbackuptheroadhismindseethed withrage,sortedamongsuchpoorreprisalsaswere availabletohim:akindoftwistedhonorforcedhimon,a needforbalancingthingstothelevelofthedistortedand counterweightedmentalscaleshewentby.

Fromtheedgeofthewoodshewatchedthemscurrying outoftheblazinghouselikerats,framedblackand depthlessandinsectsizeagainstthemoilingorange, dartinginandouttheflameslikesomeanomolaec byproductofthefireitself.Sodistantitseemeda dollhouseburningsilentlyawayinthenight,furiously animatedollsharryingintotheearthyardsuchchattelsas theycouldandwhirlingbackformoreuntilthedecking wentandhecouldseeforamomentthestarkoutlineof theraftersblackagainsttheturmoilthentheyfelltooina

crescendoofsparksrushingupwardandtheyranoutthis lasttimeandalignedthemselvesattheperipheryofthe quakingheatandjustwatcheditburn.

Lyinginthebrushhewatcheditandhehadnonamefor whathefelt.Therehadbeenbestoweduponhimsome darkgiftofpowerandknowledgeandfreedom.His pocketswereemptyandhisribsthrobbingyetinthespace ofsecondshehadrelievedamanofwhathadtakenhima goodportionofalifetimetoaccumulate:withamatchto behadfortheaskinghehadseenhomeandpossessions goshriekingupwardintothenight,leftthemworthless bitsofashtodriftandfalllikeanomaloussnow.

ByfallhewascominguptheoldNatchezTraceandhis possessionshadincreasedtoincludeagaudilyspotted horselikesomethingevokedliveandsnortingfroman electricdayglocircusposterandapearl-handled.32 automaticplatedwithnickel.Stillkeepingtothewoods andbackroadsandalwayssuspectingpursuitfromone quarteroranotherhewasalmostconstantlyonthemove, thoughhedidnotknowwherehewasgoing.Hedivined ratherthanthoughtthathewasheadedsomeplacehe wouldrecognizewhenhesawit.Hewasjustgoing.

Leavinginhiswakeathousandsmallplagues,theseeds ofuntoldothers.Hewaswhatthewifedidnottellher husbandwhenhecamehomeatnight,hewaswherethe

rentmoneywentonSaturday.Whathesawthathe wantedhetookandalreadybehindhimwererisingtales aboutthisgauntoutriderbutbythetimetheyweretold oncehewasgone,rollingsteadilynorthlikesomemalign cellinfectingothersashewent.

Heavytimberhemovedthroughhere,greatyellow poplarthreefeetindiameterquicklybaringinautumnal winds,hemovedthroughthebluelytranslucentlightof Indiansummerandagreatstirringofleaves,hugegolden leavesasbigashishand.Amanwithnothingmuchever tosaypassingthroughalandthatwasitselfinundatedin silence,justtheclickofthehorse'shoovesonan occasionalstoneandthewearycreakoftheharness,the criesofgeesebornesouthandtheircriessofaintandhigh hisfaceupturnedtowatchthemgomighthavedreamed them.

JustatduskhepassedacommunitycalledNapier,no storeorpostoffice,simplyawarrenofhouseshuddled togetherasifinprotectionfromsomethingunnamed bidingitstimeinthegatheringnightorjustsome idiosyncraticconspiracyofcarpenters:fordingastreamin arisingfanofwateropaquelysilverinthewaninglight andtheclatterofsteelonstonehestoppedoutonahigh packedroadbedandinthemurkyduskbelowwasabrush arbor,faintsinging,familiesstrungoutacrossthefallow fieldswithlanternsandintothescrubtimberandthe

lanternswinkingathimthroughthebolesoftreeslike fireflies.

Hecampedbythesiteofanoldabandonedironore mineandlatethatnightheardinthedarknessthesoundof ahorseapproachinguptheTrace,whoeveritwasdrawnto hisfire.Hecouldsmellthehorseandhestrainedtosee buthecouldnot.Therewasawindrestiveinthetreesand hecouldseetheslimpinesrockingtoandfroandhecould seebehindthemaconstantwaveofothertreesinmotion tooandtheairwasfullofleaveshecouldhearbutnotsee: theworldlookedchimerical,illusory,thenagainstthis tapestryahorseandridergainingsolidityasifhewere watchingthespectralreformationofthepast,ghostly revenantfromtheseoldminesorwraithlikecutthroatup theTracefromoldNatchez.

Yetthewispilybeardedfacebeneaththeflatbrimmed hatwasbenign.WhenHardinpocketedhispistoland steppedfromthebrushhe'dbeenconcealedintheface turnedtowardthesoundandlookedupfromthefire lacqueredredwithitsflamesasifHardinhimselfwasthe interloperandnotthisroundfacedyoungmanina circuitridingpreacher'sfrockcoatsittingwithhishands extendedtothefire.

Hardindidntreply.Hewentbacktoeatinghardtack fromabagandoffereditoncebutthemanshookhishead

no.WhenHardinputawaythehardtackhetookupa quartjarofwhiskeyanddrankandwipedasleeveacross hisstubbledfaceandsilentlyofferedthejaraswellbutthe managainshookhishead.

"IbeenpreachinoveratNapier,wehavinameetinover there.YouknowwhereNapieris?"

"Icomethroughit."

ThisyoungmanofGodseemedrestive,intent,perhaps whateverdemonshe'dexorcisedfromothershadthrown theirlotwithhim.HeseemedunwillingtoletHardingo unsaved:hebegantopreachathiminacuriouslystilted voice.HetookouthisBibleandreadfromitbythe flickeringlight,tiltingitsothatthefailingfirewashedits pagesinawaveringlightfaintlystrobicinrandom irregularity,readHardinthedoingsofoldmenlongdead Hardinhadbarelyheardrumoredandhethoughthe'd neverheardastrangertale.

Hardinsatforatimelisteningandthenhesaid,"I've thoughtsomeabouttakinupthatlinemyself.Themoney's easyandIreckonapreachermustgetarightsmartof pussy."

"Dowhat?"Thepreacherclosedthebookandturnedto whereHardinwatchedhimfromtheloghesatonandthe facehepeeredatlookedfarawayandabstracted.Thefire wasdying,awindblew,afewsparksshotupward.The treessighed.Thethinbeardedfacewithitsnocoloreyes

justwatchedhim,remotebelowtheruinofahat,this preacherseemedathingofnomoment,justsomethingthe nighthadconjuredupforHardin'samusement.

"ImemberwhenIwasaboyIusedtogotothemtent meetinsandbrusharbors,"Hardinsaid.Hedrankfrom thejar,setitbetweenhisbootedfeet."Thempreachers'd gettowindinupaboutteno'clockandeverbodyhollerin andtalkinintonguesandallyou'dhavetodowastake themoldgalsbythehandandguidethemtothewoods. Timeyougotemlaiddownthey'ddonebereadyand they'dbehaulintheirdrawersdown,anditwaslikethey waspullinemdownforJesus."

Thepreacher'sfacewasyoung,unformed:belowthe wispyredbeardhelookedascetic,remote,asifthe workingsoftheworlddidnotquitegotosuithimandhe hadalreadyachievedacertainremovefromitandshared nocomplicitywithitsfaults.

"Iguessthey'ssinmosteverwhere,"hefinallysaid.

"Theremostsurelyis,"Hardinassuredhimandthenfell silent,drinkingagainfromthejar,cantingitagainstthe windystarstogaugeitscontents."Havealittledrink."

"Ireckonnot.Idontholdwithspirits."Hesatstaringat HardinasifHardinwasnotfleshandboneboundbythe waysoflawornaturalorderbutsomediabolic manifestationgivenbriefcorpealityandsetacrossfrom himtotestthedepthofhissalvation."Igottogeton,"he

saiduneasily.

"Notjustyet,"Hardinsaid,avoicedevoidofthreator request,avoiceyoumightusetomakeacommentonthe weather.Thentheysatinadeepeningsilence,asinister silencethatworeonandonandwhenHardinshowedno inclinationtobreakitthepreachersaid:"Iaintbut nineteenyearold."

"Nineteen,"Hardinsaidruminatively.Thoughhewas onlytwoyearspastithimselfheseemedtoviewnineteen fromsomeloftystructureerectedfromyears.The preacherseemedunformed,naked,claytheyearswould shapetotheirliking."WhenIwasnineteenI'ddone everthingIcouldthinkofandwasontheroaddayand nighthuntinformore,"Hardinsaid."IwishIcouldswap placeswithyouawhile.Ibetyouaintneverdonenothin.I betyouaintnevereveneatnopussy." Noreply.Acuriousdesperatesilence,aheartfelt wordlessadmonishmentforwhateverdesirefor companionshiphaddrawnhimtowardthislight.

"Haveyou?"

Theroundfacesweepingthecircleofwindytrees,the windynightmightblowupothertravelers,acataclysmic shiftoftheearth'spoles,amiraclebrightandincandescant inOctoberdark."Ineverheardofnosuch,"thepreacher saidinalowvoice.Hiseyeswereheldhardandfastby thenickelplatedpistolHardinwasholdingonhisknee,not

pointing,justdandlingitthere,achildfondlingatoy.

"Beinit'ssupposedtobeasinIfiguredyouwasatleast onspeakintermswithit.Youaintneverpreacheda sermonagainstit?"

"No." "Getyoualittledrinkthere." "Idontdrink."

"Thenit'shightimeyoustarted."Heswappedhands withthepistolandhandedthejaracrossthedyingfireand thepreacherhelditamomentandthensmelleditand lookedbackatHardin'snocoloreyesandraisedthejarand tookabirdlikesip.Heswallowedatimeortwo.

"Goodaintit?Getyouanothern." Thepreacherdrankagainandsetthejarasideandhis lipsbegantomoveasifhewereprayingtohimself. Whenhegotunderwaybeforefirstlightheleftthe preacher'shorsebutthemorninghadahintofwintertoit sohetookthefrockcoatandtheheavywoolenshirtthe preacherhadbeenwearing.Thepreachersatonalogand watchedhimturnpocketswrongsideoutuntilhefoundthe littlepokeofnickelsanddimesandthefewcrumpled bills.Thehorse'sbreathsteamedinthecoldair.First lightshowedaghostoffrostontheground,spectralfallof icesilverinthemorninglighttendingawaytonothing northwardalongtheTrace,andwiththefirstwarmthof

thesuntherewasaserebrittlesmelltothewoods.He mounted,thesaddlecreaked,hiseyesswepttheburntout fireandthepreacher'svacuouseyesbutdidnotremark them,theywereyesterday,usedup,forgotten.Heturned thespottedhorseandwasgoneintothemistsoabruptly thepreachermighthavethoughthimtheprotagonistofa nightmaresaveforthesoundofhoovesandfinallythat wasgonetoo.

Thenightswerecoldnowandtherewasasteelythreat ofwinterintheair.Theairlookedblueassmokeandthe worldsmelledcrispanddry.Coldcameinthenightsand hoveredoninthemorningsandherodenowwithanold blanketcutlikeaponcho.Alongaboutmidmorningthe daywouldwarmbrieflythenwiththeafternoon'sslant lightitwouldagaingrowchill.Hefeltitmustbe November.

HecrossedthroughaplacecalledMetalFordandhe sawnosoulabout:cuttimberasifthishadoncebeena lumbercamp.Oldtiltingshantiesgrayandweatheredso thatlookedlikenothingmanhadhadahandin,just somethingthathadhappened.Machineryleftforthe oxydizationoftheweathers,oldsawslongunsharped, thickenedwithscalyorangeaccretionsofrust.Silence herepalpable,dense,hecaughthimselflisteningfor voices,theringingofaxes,theslideoftimberthroughthe brush.Heheardonlytheliquidcallofathrushandthe

cawingofcrows,dislocated,farfromanycornfieldhehad seen.Heseemedtheonlysoulinalltheworld.Old unglassedwindowscavedandblind.Buildingslefttothe dirtdaubersandratsandfoxes.Theysmelledofburntout fires,thedeadashesofthepast.Hefoundnothingworth salvaging.

Onpastherehebegantocomeuponthewreckageof houses,oncehesawwithinterestanintactbarnroof sittinginthemiddleofafallowfield,itstinawarmumber drawingoffthelight.Awidepaththroughthetimber wherethehorizonhadbeencleftbyablowof unimaginablemagnitude,thetreeswrenchedbranchless, twistedandsplintered,shardsoflumberandsectionsof housesperchedintreeswherefolkshadneverbuiltthem. Ashantyonahillsidethathadsimplycollapsedonitself, folded,itstarpaperroofstillskeweredbyitsrusted stovepipe.

Theevidenceofallthisdisorderawedhimalittle,he wouldhavelikedtoseesuchastormbuthecouldnthave saidfromwhere.Veeringoffthestormpathasifwaryof itsimminentreturnhecameontoasteadilyrising countryside,agradualascensionthroughthinningtimber andlookingbacktheworldhe'dcomethroughlaya dreamytapestryofpastoralcolors,shroudedinvaguemist andfadingoutnowthathenolongerneededit. Graves.Aseriesofthemenclosedinarustedfence.

Oldgravesfromthelookofthem,sunken,theearthfallen cleanlydownwardinoblongobscissionasthoughgravity wasforcefullyaberrantinthissacredspotorhadhada deeperattractionfortheearth.Yetthemarkerswere newlooking.Hereadthemfromhorseback.ElderSpiess, ElderWilliam,ElderKirk.Others.Herewerethegraves ofwomen.Afewofamorediminutivesize.Allhad perishedalikeonApril24,l884.Forareasonhecouldnt fathomtheplacefascinatedhim.Areapergoneberserkor drunken,flailingtirelesslyandindiscriminatelywiththe scythe.

Awornroadfollowedalongthebackboneoftheridge andhecrossednarrowflintyfieldsofacidlookinglandand haltednearthesummit.BelowhimahousesetonaVshapedplotoflandatthemouthofahollow,behinditthe timberthickenedandhecouldhearthefarspillofwater andfromwherehesatthehorsehecouldseeitswhitefall cascadingdownabluff.Astreamlaylikeacoiledribbon ofsilver.Athreadofsmokecurledfromthechimney.He satandwatchedthehouseforatime.Afterawhilethe backdooropenedandawomancameoutandthrew dishwaterintotheyardandturnedandwentbackin.He heardthescreendoorslapto.

Hedismountedandtookacoiledropeoffthesaddleand unrolleditandpicketedthehorseandfeditshelledcorn fromafloursack.Hetookoutsomehardbreadandpieces

offriedmeatscorchedandblackenedalmost unrecognizablewithsmokeandcamebackthroughthe windysedgetothecrestoftheridgeandsatagainstthe boleofawhiteoakandate,chewingslowly,wipinghis greasyfingersonthelegsofhistrousers.Afterheatethe lastofthemeatandbreadhewentbacktothehorseand gotthefruitjaranddrankandcarrieditbackwithhimto theoak.

Amancameoutofthehouseandwalkedacrossthe yard.Hewalkedwithastick.Hewasbentoversothat fromwhereHardinsathecouldseethehumpedflesh whereitpressedagainstthewhiteshirtandhecouldsee thebackoftheman'shead.Hishairlookedblackforone sowrackedwithwhateverafflictedhim.Hewalkedon scanningthegroundandheseemedtobesearchingfor somethinghe'dlost.Wherethebrackenthickenednearthe springhewentoutofsightintoitanditwasafewminutes beforehecameout.Hardinrolledandlitacigarette,sat smoking.Hewatchedwithanairofinfinitepatience, therewasnolookatallinhiseyes,asifbysomedark alchemyhecontrolledtheeventsunfoldingandwhatever transpiredherewouldbejustwhathewantedtoseeall along.

Adarkhairedgirlwhoappearedtobefiveorsixyears oldcameoutandbegantothrowrocksatafew scragglylookingchickens.Hecouldhearthechickens

cacklingandtakingonandseethemrunningaboutthe yardwhileshepepperedthemwithrocks.Thescreendoor flewopenandthewomancameontotheporchyelling somethingandthegirlcutdownonherwitharock.She ranacrosstheporchandintotheyardandgraspedthegirl uplikeasackofgrainandshookher.Shecarriedher tuckedunderherarmbackinsideandHardincouldhear thegirl'soutragedyellandthedoorfelltoagain.

Themancameoutofthewoods.Hewascarryingajug alonginhishandandheadingfortheporch.Well,Hardin thoughttohimself.Isitwaterornot?Whynotabucket,if itis?Whathavewegothere,anyway?Heknewitwasnt water.Ifhewantedwaterhewouldhavesentthewoman.

Thedayworeon.Fourorfivecarscameinthecourse oftheafternoon,noonelingeringtovisit.Feweven gettingout.Themanorthewomanwouldcomeouttothe carthenbacktothehouseandreturntothecar.Money wouldchangehands.Thefirsttimehesawlightglingoff abottle,hesaidwell,well,well,thoughheknewalreadyit wasabootlegger.

Lateintheafternoonthewomancameouttotheendof thehouseandhikedherdressandpulleddownher drawersandsquattedintheearthyard.Inaminuteshe aroseandpulledherunderwearup,lettheskirtfall. Hardinsatwatchingherwithhisexpressionlessface.She wentbackin.

Justaboutduskshecamedownfromthehousetoward thebarncarryingamilkbucketinherhand.Inthehallof thebarnshehungthebucketonanailandwentintoacrib andcameoutwithalardbucketofsweetfeedandcarriedit intothecowstall.Shecamebackafterthebucketand commencedmilking,themilksingingofftherimofthe pail.

Goingbackshepassedastalloutofwhichahand seizedherandjerkedherintothehaysmellingdark.She stumbledwideeyedthroughtheopeningandafistcaught heralongsidetheheadandshetoppledsidewiseandfell heavilyagainsttheunchinkedpolewallandslidtothe floor.Thebucketofmilkslammedagainsttheopposite wallandpouredfoamingdownitandpuddledthen seethedacrossthefloorinaminiaturetideofchaffand humus.Shewasonherhandsandknees.Lightfellin latticedsegmentsthroughtheslottedwalls."Goddamn," thewomansaidthickly.Sheturnedherheadfromsideto sideslowly.Shelookedup.Upatthistallgauntfigure leaningstiltedonunlikelylegs,strangegoat'seyesstaring downatherandhishandsalreadyworkingatthebuttons ofhisjeans."Yousonofabitch,"thewomansaid."You donthavetocomeonsorough.Idontknowwhyyoucant justasklikeanybodyelse."

HITPLAY

HITPLAY

LOVE,MILLIEbyMichaelandDonnaChapman

Inthelandwheretreesgrowtallandchildrenaresmall livedatinygirlwithabigname.MillicentElizabeth Spencer.

Thegirlhadtroublemakingfriendsatschool.School madeMillicentunhappyandshecriedmosteveryday.She keptherheadbentsoherdarkcurlyhairhungoverher facetohidethetearsinherlargedarkeyes.

Oneday,Millicentwassenttoadifferentschool.Her newteacher,MissCarolyn,smoothedthecurlsfrom Millicent’stenderface.Thenshelovinglyintroducedher totheclass.

Onthatday,MissCarolyn’sloveandwarmthpierced throughtheveilofMillicent’stears.Withherbrowneyes shiningandnolongerhiddenbehindhercurls,Millicent lookedupathernewteacherandclassmatesandsaid, “MynameisMillicent,butyoucancallmeMillie.”

Laterwhenthechildrenwentouttoplay,Millieasked MissCarolynifshecouldholdherhand.Walkinghandin handwithherteacherastheautumnleavesswirledabout theirfeetthetreesdidn’tlooksotallandthechilddidn’t feelsosmall.

“Look!”criedMillieasshestoopedtotheground.“A redheartjustforyou!”

Inthecourseoftime,assmallchildrendo,Milliegrew upandmovedawayfromthetinytownandtheschool whereMissCarolyntaught.Shegrewstrongandnolonger feltsmallorthatthetreesweresotall,butshenever forgotMissCarolyn.

Manyyearslater,MilliereturnedandwenttofindMiss Carolynatheroldschool.Theprincipalwassadtotell MilliethatMissCarolynwassickandunabletocarefor herself.Herfamilyhadmovedhertoanursingfacility.

Milliewentquicklytovisitherteacher.

AsMilliecameintoview,holdingacardandwearinga bigsmile,MissCarolynrecognizedMillie’slongdark curlsandshiningbrowneyes.

Throughherveiloftears,MissCarolyncried,“Millie, youcametoseeme!”

Milliebentoverherwhite-hairedteacherandslipped thegiftinhersoftpaper-thinskinnedhands.

ToMissCarolyn’sdelight,asmallredheartshapedleaf droppedoutfrominsidethecardsimplysigned ToMiss Carolyn,LoveMillie.

Amorebeautifulsighthadneverbeenseenbythe nursingstaffastheyoungwomanwiththedarkcurlyhair tenderlybrushedtheolderwoman’ssnow-whitehairfrom herface.

Milliewhispered,“MissCarolyn,Ihavemovedbackto stay,andwillvisityoueveryday.I’vebecomeateacher justlikeyou.Iwillalwaysloveyou.”

MissCarolynlookedatMilliewithtear-stainedcheeks andwhispered,“Iloveyoutoo,Millie.”

ANNIEINTRODUCES JAMIEGEHRING

MadmanintheWoods:LifeNextDoortothe Unabomber byJamieGehring

ThisisthefirstmonththatAnnie’sAnticsappearsin WELLREAD,andbecauseit’sthelastmonthof2022I wantedtosharemyfavoritebookoftheyear.Jamie Gehringhasbeenchosenforseveralreasons.Iabsolutely adoredherbook.Iwasenamoredwithherstoryandhow shetoldit.Ilovedthecoverofthebook.Itwasavery excitingread.Jamieisalsofunnyandfulloflifeandby thetimeIclosedthebookIfeltlikeI’dbecomeafriendof hers.It’saveryintimatestoryandIhaveafeelingwewill enjoymoreofherwritingintheyearstocome. I’vechosenherdebutbook MadmanintheWoods:Life NextDoortotheUnabomber asmyfavoritebookthis year!Ihighlyrecommendit. Myreviewisbelow,followedbyelevenquestions.I’m usingtheProustInterviewmodeltolearnmoreabout authorsbeyondmytypicalinterviewquestions.The authorschoseneachmonthareauthorsthatIbelievewere borntoshineandwhatwelearnisalwayscooland interesting.

Annie’sFIVESTARReview:

ontheNetflixUnabomberDocumentary,soIknewshe wasspecialandhadanonairtalent.

ThereweretimeswhenIcouldhearhervoicecracking becauseIcouldtellshewantedtocry.Therewereother timeswhereIfeltherangstsoclearlyIwantedtojump throughmyiPadandhugher.Ifeltherheart.Sheputsit alloutonthepaper.

“MadmanintheWoods”isloving,touching,creepy,and lyricallywritten.YoucansenseJamieGehring’swishfora properunderstandingtotheUnabomber’scrimesand activities.

Sheresearcheddiligentlybackasfarashisinfancyand childhoodbecauseshewantedtheretobeanexplanation forwhathewasdoingbesidessimplybeingEvil.Ifelther heart’scryseekingthatanswer,justsomuchasIamsure Ted’sfamilywished,too.

Waituntilyouseewhatagiftedwritersheis.Jamiehasa certaintempotoherstory.Ilovedhowshemakesyou slowdownatcertainpartsandreallylistentowhatsheis saying.Iwasenamored.Shewasremindingushow importantthesepartsweretoTed’sstory,andtoherstory!! Iwouldtearup.

ThistruecrimestoryiswrittenlikenootherIhaveread. Thereisasenseofheartintheundertowofthis devastation.Thewarmththattheauthorsharesbreaksyour heart.WehavetorememberthatthisisnotjustTed’s story;it’sJamiestoryoftheentireGehring’sfamily.Itisa

storyaboutthevictims.

Iamhonoredandtouchedthatshesharedherstorywith us.AndI’msureyouwillfeelthesameway.

TherearesomanybooksontheUnabomber,butthisisby farmyfavorite.Ithinkit’sbecauseoftheseriously intimatewriting.It’salmostlikeitcan’tquitepossiblybe real,butitis.Thatisthesignificanceofthestory.Not manyofusareneighborsofakiller.Shemakesthis awarenessclear.

Also,I’dliketoaddthatthiswasn’tastoryaboutthe Unabomberwritteninaclinicalfashionlikesomany others.Jamiewriteswithapersonalnarrativeofher memoriesandinteractionswithTed.Ifelteveryemotion asshewalkedthepathoflifewithhimaroundthesame woodswheretheylived.

1.Whatisyourgreatestfear?

OnarecenttriptoMexicoIdiscoveredthatscorpionsare prettyclosetothenumberonespotfor“greatestfear.”But Ithinkmygreatestfearisatiebetweenbeingburnedalive andbeingroommateswithShellyKnotek(ascanberead aboutin,“IfYouTell”byGreggOlsen.

2.Whatisyourgreatestextravagance?

Wejustinstalledasaunainourhome.WhenIamsitting withintheNordicWhiteSprucewalls,Ican’tbelievethis ismylife.Ifeelsogratefulforthisextravagance!It’s quicklybecomemyfavoritedatenight,followedbyacup ofSleepytimeteaandanepisodeofWhiteLotus.“Thisis 40ish!”Istilllovearockshowandafewshotsofwhiskey onoccasionandIhopeIalwaysdo.ButIamcompletely atpeacewithstayinginforasaunasessiononaFriday night.

3.Whatisyourcurrentstateofmind?

Iaminmy40sandunapologeticallymyauthenticself.I amsoateasewithmyselfandwhatIhaveaccomplished (professionallyandpersonally).Mycurrentstateofmind isdefinitelyamixofpeacefulandproud,sprinkledinwith occasionaloverwhelminggriefandabitofimpostor syndrome.

brilliant,HawkeyePiercetypesurgeonnamedRoger Moebus.Hegavemeprettymuchtheequivalentofatwoyearsurgicalresidency.Ilefttheserviceandgothired rightofftobeanoperatingroomtechatStVincent's MedicalCenterinJacksonville.ButwhenItoldthem aboutthetrainingIgotfromDr.Moebus,theypromoted metosurgeon'sassistant,whichwasbasicallylikea physician'sassistantexceptIworkedintheoperating room.That'swhereImetPam.Shewasanx-raytechand assignedtotheoperatingroomtodoin-surgeryorthopedic films.IcommentedtotheinternhowcuteIthoughtPam wasandhedaredmetoaskherout.Ididrightthenand there.Wehadourfirstdatethatweekendandhavebeen togethereversince.Wegotmarriedthreemonthsafterwe metonApril15,1978,forty-fouryearsago,”saysJoe. Joedecidednottostayinthemedicalfieldandgothis BAinEnglish,minoringinliteratureatUNFin1983.He becameanewspaperreporterinsteadofadoctorand workedforthreenewspapers,theFloridaTimesUnion beingthelastone.

“IwasthesolereporterforitsFernandinaBeach Bureau.Overtheyears,I'ddonequiteabitof investigativereporting,”Joerecalls.“Mybackgroundin investigativereportingpaidoffin1987,Ithinkitwas, whentheStatePublicDefender'sOfficebranchofferedme ajobasaninvestigator,explainingthatitwouldn'tbe muchdifferentfromdoinginvestigativereporting.Ididit fortwoyearsandfinallydecidedtogooutonmyownasa privateinvestigator.Iwasacoupleorthreeyearsintothat

partofmycareerwhentheNassauCountySheriffandhis ChiefDeputygotindictedfordrugtrafficking.The sheriff'sdefenselawyershiredmetohandlethedefense investigation.WhileIwasdoingthat,Idrewtheattention oftheFederalPublicDefender'sOfficeandtheyrecruited measaninvestigator.Ididthatfrom1995untilIretiredin 2012astheMiddleDistrictofFlorida’sfirstChief Investigator.PamandIreturnedtoFernandinaBeachin 2005whenItransferredtotheFPD'sJacksonvilleoffice.”

ButJoe’sfirstlovewasfeaturewritingbecauseit'smore likestory-telling.IfyouliveinFernandinaBeach,you mayrememberhisCupofJoecolumnfortheNewsLeader.ItwasduringthattimeJoesharpenedhiswriting chops,developedalargefollowing,andstartedthinking aboutwritinganovel.

“PamandIhadboughtanold1969classicsailboatand Ibeganrestoringitasmyretirementproject.Iwas workingonitonehotsummerafternoon,sortof daydreamingandlisteningtoasongbymyfavorite recordingartist,MarkKnopflercalled,"InTheSky", aboutasailorwhobuilthisownboatandsailedallover theworlduntilhewasoldanddeaf.There'sabeautiful verseinitthatgoes,"Andthevagabondwindwhispers overthebay,andthesongsandthelaughterarecarried away."ItgavemegoosebumpsasIenvisionedthisold sailor,"Thehard-bittenstranger,deafasapost,standsat thefire,wherethepoet'sdreamsroast.Hecan'tknowthe story,hecan'tfeelthepain,andallofthegloryfalls aroundhimlikerain,inthesky."Ithoughttomyself,

damn,thissongcouldbeturnedintoanovel.Icamehome thatnightandbeganwritingAMariner'sTale.” JackMerkel,theprotagonistinJoe’snovel,isahardbittensailorinthestory,aswellasthefatherJoealways wantedbutdidn'thave.Hedrewuponhisloveofsailing, rebuildinganoldsailboat,hisworkasamedicand surgeon'sassistant,andhisdaysinthecourtroomdoing criminaldefense.Joealsoworkedparttimeatalocal marinawherehekepthisboat,andquicklycaughtonto marinalifeandthesaltycharactersinthem,whichhelped himformJackMerkel'sMarinaandBoatyardandtheguys whoworkedforhim.Joestartedwritinghisnovelin August2015andfinishedonMarch4,2017,thefirst anniversaryofPatConroy’sdeath.SaysJoe,“Abitof serendipitythereIreckon.”

AUTHORSINTERVIEWING AUTHORS

author,joinedherandwherethesetwoincrediblewomen tookthisnuggetofanidea.

Linda: Hannah,sinceyou’retheonewhohadtheideafor FirstChapterFun(FCF),let’sstartthisQ&Awithyou. PleasetelluswhereyouwerewhenthenotionofFCF cametoyou.Intheshower?Driving?And,whyyou wantedtocreatethisfantasticFacebookgroup.

Hannah: Itwasthankstoagreatandveryenthusiastic groupofauthorfriends.BackinMarch2020,whenCovid firsthitCanada,about14ofuswerediscussing,via Messenger,howwecouldhelppromoteoneanotherand giveourbooksaboost.OneeveningIhalf-jokingly offeredtoreadthefirstchapteroftheirnovelson FacebookandInstagramandstartedtheverynextday. ShortlyafterwardIhadover40dailyreadingslinedup andtherest,astheysay,ishistory.Ireador53daysina row(didn’tthinkthe“mustdohairandmake-up”thing throughverywell),introducingviewerstoanewnovel andauthoreachday.

Wenowhavereadingsscheduleduntilfallof2023.Allthe previouslyairedepisodesaresavedandcanbeviewedat leisure.It’sawonderfulcommunitywherewesharethe loveofbooks,andintroducenewand/ornew-to-you authorseveryweek.Ourgoalistosupportauthorsand publishersasmuchaswepossiblycan,andtokeepyour “toberead”pilecompletelyout-of-control.Sofar,orso we’vebeentold,we’resucceeding.

Linda: Hank,howlongafterFCFwasactiveonFacebook didyoujoinHannahandhowdidthatcomeabout?

Hank: Well,Istartedasahugefan.Iwascompletely hookedonFCF,andadoredlisteningtoHannahread.And gettingtoknowalltheotherlisteners,evenbeforewe namedthemtheFunsters.TheamazingSamanthaBailey introducedmetoHannah,andHannahofferedtoreadmy newbook,THEMURDERLIST.Iwasthrilled.Andit wasanamazingexperience.

IknewHannahhadanewbookcomingout,SISTER DEAR,andifIremembercorrectly,Iofferedtoreadfor her.Sheagreed,anditwassuchanhonor.Shetoldmethat shewasstoppingtheshowafterMay,andIwascrushed! SoIwilladmit,Igotherinaheadlockandbackedherinto acornerandconvincedherthatsheshouldcontinueit. Andthatwemight...sharetheadventure.Imean--itwas toofabulousacreationtohaveitvanish.

Hannah: myneckisstillsore.Hahaha!Joking.I’mso pleasedHankconvincedmetocontinue.

FirstChapterFunwouldn’tbewhatitiswithouther!

Linda: Howdoyouchoosethebooksyouread?Isitona firstcomefirstservebasisandhasthatchangedsinceyou started,nowthatyouhavesomanymoresubmissions?

Hannah:Attheverybeginningitwasmecontactingmy authorfriends,tellingthemabouttheprojectandaskingif they’dlikemetoreadforthem.Nowit’sacombinationcontactingpeopleweknow,beingcontactedbyauthorsfor

whomwe’vereadbefore,receivingdirectrequestsfrom authors,publishers,publicists-there’sarealmix.As we’refullybookeduntilthefallof2023,we’recurrently notschedulinganymorereadsbutmayreopento submissionslaterintheyear.

Hank: Andwekeepathoughtfulanddiversemixof genresandauthors,too,debutandveterans,soourreads arealwaysasurpriseforourFunsters.Ourgoalistoserve allkindsofreadersandauthors,andtokeepeveryone’stobe-readpilesgrowingandgrowing.FirstChapterFunis allaboutdiscoverabilitywhetherit’sfindinganewbook byafavoriteauthor–orfindingabrandnewauthor!

Linda: HowmanymembersdidFCFhavewhenitfirst beganandhowmanydoyouhavenow?Andhowmany episodesofFCFhaveyouhadtodate?Didyoueven dreamitwouldgoonforthislong?Bothofyouplease chimeinhere.

Hank: IfItoldyouhowmanymembers,itwouldbe wrong,becausethenumbersgoupandupandup.Hannah andIadoretogettobetheoneswhoadmitthe newcomers,andwewelcomethemwithopenarms.Er, books.Wearepast4000now,andwow.Andasweanswer this,weareat305episodes.Hilarious.Andthatitwould gothislong?Well,onereadatatime.Butyes,weare fullybooked!Andwearetemptedtoaddmoredays,but doNOTletus.Wehavetowrite!

Hannah: Ithinkattheverybeginning,thefirstepisodeon

March17,2020,whenIreadWomanontheEdgebySam Bailey,therewereperhapstenpeopleanditgrewfrom theredayafterday.

AsHankmentioned,I’dplannedonstoppingafterabout sixweeks,andhereweare,almostthreeyearslater–with lotsmoretocome:-)

Linda: Youeachreadthefirstchapterofanovel submittedbyanauthor.IknowfromlisteningtoFCFand havingmyownfirstchapterread,whichIwanttosaywas anincredibleexperiencehearingHannah’sfabulous Britishaccentreadmywords,howdoyoueachplanfor yourreading?Howlongdoyourehearse?

Hannah: Iprintoutthechapterandreaditthroughafew times,markinganywordsIdon’tknowthepronunciation of,tryingoutcharactervoicestodistinguishthemfrom oneanother,makingnotesandhighlightsfortoneand emphasis.Asfortheaccents,Icandoacoupleofdifferent UKregionalones,andadecentIrishone,butI’llnever, ever,beabletoreadwithaNorthAmericanaccent.I alwaysendupsoundinglikeSandyCheeksfrom Spongebob.

Hank: (IampracticingdoinganEnglishaccent.Butit willneverwork.)AndIagree,Iprintoutthechapter,and readitoutloudafewtimes,markinginflectionand attitude.It’sabigresponsibility,andachallenge,andwe wanttomakeourauthorshappy,soweworktobeas professionalaswecanbe.Ialwaysimaginetheauthor

listening--andthat’smyinspiration.Andterror.

Linda: Bloopersandtechissuesoftenhappenwhengoing liveonFacebookandInstagram.

Bothofyouhandlethemwithsucheaseandmakeitall fun.Tellusabouttheworstoneyou’veexperienced,the onethatreallyhadyourheartpounding.

Hannah:AswebroadcastonInstagramandFacebook simultaneouslybutfromtwodifferent devices,thebiggestchallengeiswhenoneplatformisn’t working.Thatcanbefrustratingaswe’reliveon,e.g. Facebook,andfiddlingaroundtryingtogetaconnection onInstagram.Theaudienceisveryforgivingthough,and we’reincrediblygratefulforthat!

Wehadafunnyepisodewhenmyprinterwentoffinthe middleofthereading,justafterI’dtoldabitofaspooky story.Turnedoutitwasoneofmysonswho’dprinted stuffandforgottenIwasonline.Neveradullmoment,as weliketosay!

Hank: Ha!Neveradullmoment.Thephonerings,or Alexagoesoff,especiallywhenthere’sanauthornamed AlexorAlexa,orAlexis.(Ifinallyunpluggedit.).Once, earlyon,whenIwasstillterriblynervous,IthoughtIhad lostapageofamanuscript,and,ontheair,IwasSO baffled.Iwasbaffled,itturnedout,becausethoughIhad practicedreadingonthecomputer(neveragain),the printerprinteditwrong.Andevenafter43yearsasa reporter,readingscriptsliveonTV,sometimeswithno

preparationatall,Iwasadeerintheheadlights.Itturned outfine,butitwasalearningexperience.

AUTHORSINTERVIEWINGAUTHORS

thathasnearly2,000.Wealsopostfunfactsaboutthe booksandourauthors.Weliketogetthecommunity involvedsowehave“What-cha-readin’?”and“CanWe Talk”poststogenerateinvolvementanddiscussion.Those arealotoffun.

Hank: AndwenowhaveFirstChapterFunswag! FabulousT-shirtsandmugsandhoodiesandaprons,inall colors,allwiththelogoHannahdesigned.SomeoftheTshirtshavespecialFCFsayings,like“NotRightNow”and “StaySafe,StayKind.”Butyou’llhavetocometoour readingstofindoutwhatthatmeans.AndImakeabook promovideoforeachguest,soIgettodevelopanew skill!

Hannah: Whoknewbeinganauthormeantdoingall thesethings,too?Andit’sso.Much.Fun.Anddon’tforget thepajamasthatsay“NotRightNow”whichstillmakes melaugh.

Linda: Yes,FCFhasgrownandyou’redoingsomuch morethanyouoriginallythoughtyouwould.Iimaginethe experiencehaschangedyoubothinsomefashion.Please giveusapeekintothat.

character,action,stakes.Itallhastobethere,andinthe fantasticones,itis.

Hannah: WhatHanksaid!Also,I’mquitetechsavvybut itwasstillasteeplearningcurveatthebeginning,butI’ve beenabletohelpotherauthorswiththat,too.That’swhat thewritingcommunityisallabout,afterall.I’mso pleasedwecangivebackviaFirstChapterFun,and provideatwice-weeklybubbleofhappinessforpeopleto escapeinto.Witheverythingthat’sbeengoingonsincethe pandemicstarted,I’vereallyneededit,too.

Linda: Hastherebeenanythingthatcamealong,new relationshipsornewendeavors,whiledoingFCFthatyou neverexpected?

Hannah: Buildingthecommunityandwatchingitgrow organicallyhasbeensuchawonderfulthing.Itfeelslike I’msittingdownwithfriendsandIabsolutelylovethat. Also,mostmaynotknowthatHankandIhadonlymet once,verybrieflyataconferencebeforeweteamedupfor FirstChapterFun.Nowwetalk/textalmostdaily(and multipletimesdaily)andhavebecomegreatfriends.That relationshipisagiftItreasureandmaynothavehappened withoutFirstChapterFun.

Hank: SOagree.MULTIPLEtimes.Ilaugheverydayat howcloseHannahandIhavebecome,and,random thoughtfromtheotherday,IrealizedIhavenoideawhich ofusistaller.Buteventhoughweweretrappedinthe pandemic,everydayIthinkabouthowmuchbiggermy

worldhasbecome.Itisatruejoy.

Hannah: Ithinkwe’rethesameheight-5feet8inches (or173cmifwegometric)!

Hank: Ha!AndeverytimeHannahgivestheweather reportfromToronto,IhavetoconverttoFahrenheit.And shegetstoputmyBostontempsintoCelsius.Soit’salso aneducationexperience!Happily,weareinthesametime zone.

Butoneseriousthing?HannahandIarenowtheworld’s expertsonwhatmakesaneffectivefirstchapter.It’squite life-changing.

Linda: PleasetellushowwecanjoinFirstChapterFun andhowwecanaccesspreviouseditionstohearthefirst chaptersyouandHankhavealreadyread.

Hannah: You’llfindusonFacebookwww.facebook.com/ groups/firstchapterfunandonInstagram www.instagram.com/firstchapterfunandourwebsite www.firstchapterfun.comAllofthepreviouslyaired episodesaresavedandavailableonbothplatforms(Media /VideosonFacebook,andReelsonInstagram).

Hank:Andwantanapronorahoodieoramug?Youcan doyourFCFshoppinghere!(Wedareyoutotrytoresist. Everythingisadorable!)https://shop.spreadshirt.com/ firstchapterfun

Iamnovelist ClaudiaH.Long,andhereyoucanreadall aboutme,myhistoricalfictionnovels,andfollowthe latestbooknewsandevents.I’maweaverofwords, catcherofdreams,andchroniclerofthespacesbetween thelinesinthehistorybooks:women’sstories,women’s dreams,her-story.InmyalternatelifeI’manew grandmotheroftwospectaculargrandsons,motheroftwo marvelouskids,chocolate-lovinglawyer-mediator,wife andcook.

Mybooksliveinrichhistoricalsettingsthatshowthe lives,loves,andlustsofwomenimmersedinasocietythat theywanttobeapartof,butasthemselves.Jewish womenlivingasCatholicsincolonialMexico.

Professionalfemalewritersstrugglingtoeffectchangein early20thCenturyCalifornia.Crypto-judaicfeminist historicalfictionsoundslikeamouthful,butattheirheart mybooksaresweepingromantictales.

Hoodseemedtobetheonlywaytogetthere.Asthe snowplowclearedtheroadoflastnights‘dumping'asthe skiliftgirlcalledit,Iorderedadoubleespressotosteady mynerves."Flip-flops"Itoldher."Ileftmybootsand packedflip-flops."

Amuchcaffeinatedandrock-n-rolledwriterviaSirius satellitelater,IrosetoacrestintheOregonoutbackwhere aroadsigndeclaredWarning!AbruptEdgeAhead!I wantedtopulloverandsnapashotofthatsignbut everythingreallywasanabruptedgeandtherewasn't room.Whattherewasroomforinthosefollowinghours wastimeandspaceformetoponderandconsiderthe momentsinlifewheretheunexpectedassailsus.It happenstomostofusatsometime.Areallifeattackthat isusuallyrightoutoftheblue.Itcanbeasmundaneasa healthcheck-upwhereconcernsarise,oraspublicand heart-wrenchingasSandraBullock'slove-lifeinpast years.Thesesurprisesdon'tseemtocomewithwarnings. Thereisn'tanalarmtoneonourcalendarsthatsays,"Slow downandstandstrongasjustaheadthereis..."-and fromtherewecanfillintheblanktoread:challenging medicalreport,betrayalbyalovedone,joblossorthe unexpecteddeathofafriend.I'veexperiencedeverysingle oneofthoseandeachofthemcaughtmebysurprise. Peopletellmethatsometimesevenasurprisesuccesscan tripusup;findusonedgesweneverimaginedpossible.

Onceuponatimeandmanymoonsagomyyoungest sonwasskiingonTaosMountain.Unknowntohismother hehadtakenarideuptooneofthelargerslopes.Hewas onlyinKindergartenandalthoughanagileathleteand promisingskierhehadnobusinessbeingasfaruponas hewas.Hediscoveredaveryliteralabruptedgeandskied rightoverthesideofthemountain.Thankfully,healso managedtograbatreelimbonhiswayoverthemountain andhehungon.Foralongtime.Forwhatmostlikely seemedtothoselittlehandslikeaneternitybuteventually acoupleofexpertskierscaughtsightofhisjacketinthe treelimbandmanagedtorescuehimandgethimdown themountain.

Drivingthroughthoseopenskiesandlookingoffinto thehighdesertofOregonIthoughtaboutwhatouroptions arewhenwehitthoseunexpectedplacesinlife.Manfor eonshasdesiredacrystalballofsorts,forsomething, someonetolightthewayintothefuture.Topleaseatleast warnusofwhatistocomesothatwecanmanageatbest toavoidorsteelourselvestoheartbreakandpain.Butlife isasbittersweetasitgets.It'salwaysgoingtohave cornersforustoturnandplaceswhereholdingontothe thingwefindclosestathandiswhatwe'vegottodo.Beit ourfaith,thehandofafriend,orthewordsthatwewrite tokeepussane.Wecontinue.

IlovethescenewithHarrisonFord'scharacterRick DeckardinBladeRunnerwhenhefallsovertheedgeof therooftopandfindshimselfhangingonfordearlifeby onlyafewfingers.That'sexactlywhereI'vefeltI'vebeen inlife.Likemysonhangingoninthattree,likeRick Deckardhangingonbyathread,andnothingeverseemed tobeleadinguptothosemoments.Theywerejustupon mewithastartlingquickness.

WhatIhaverealizedinthecourseofthepastfewyears asI'veofferedsilentprayersforstrangerswhocrossedmy pathwasthatweallhavemoments,days,yearsthatwe needtoberescued.Andweallhavethosemomentswhere wehavethisincredibleopportunityinthemidstofour ordinarydailyroutinetoeffectivelybesomeone'shero.It's theeverydaypersonwhospeaksasoftwordof encouragementjustintimethatliftsustoaplacewhere wemay-well,survive.Becausesomedays,just continuingtobreathe,togetoutofthebed,toputonefoot infrontoftheotherisamajorvictory.

I'vehadthosemoments,theoneswhereeveryday heroesdeliveredme.Onewaswhereanursesilently brushedmyhairawayfrommyfacewhileIlayexhausted, alone,milesfromhome,andshiveringaftergivingbirth. Thatspiritofkindnessandcompassionwasnever forgotten.ThatsamecompassioncomestomindwhenI rememberafriend'smotheropeningherdoortomeat

midnightwhereshefoundmeintearsandwordlesslyheld openherarms.Thosemomentsoftenderconnection helpedmestepawayfromtheledge,sotospeak.And whilelifedidn'texactlygeteasier,itbecamepossibleto navigatethecircumstancesthathadknockedthewindout ofme.ThereareHighHolyWeeks,andday'ssuchas ChristmasandtheNationalDayofPrayerthattendtoturn ourthoughtsalittlemoreoutwardtowardsourfellowman andthestateoftheworld.AllwonderfulwhenPeace aboundsIsay.Butmuchmorecomforting,lasting,and real,whentherubbermeetstheroadofourhuman conditionandwemeeteachotherintheprocess.

AbruptEdges?Theyhappenbutthankfullysodoes survivalfromourdarkestdays.Andwhilewemay honestlyneverlookbackandlaughatwhatwe experienced,wecanlookintothefuturecertainthatlife continuesinspiteofusandbecauseofus.Together,we shallmoveforwardifnotfearlesslythenatleastwitha littlelesstrepidationandawholelotmorehumanity.

RiverJordan isanauthor,speaker,andteacher.Asasoutherner withaglobalperspectivesheisapassionateadvocateforthe powerofstory.River'swritingcareerbeganasaplaywrightand shespentovertenyearswritinganddirecting.Sheisthebestsellingauthoroffournovels,threespiritualmemoirs,andone shortstorycollection.Asacritically-acclaimedauthorherwork hasbeenmostfrequentlycastinthecompanyofsuchwritersas FlanneryO'Conner,WilliamFaulkner,andHarperLee.