
I’ll Die on the Hill of the Southern Accent
When I was young, I was self-conscious about my accent, most acutely when I was among non-Southern relatives. They were erudite and polished, while I
Musings
When I was young, I was self-conscious about my accent, most acutely when I was among non-Southern relatives. They were erudite and polished, while I
I know you should let the wild things be wild. But when a hugely pregnant cat is yowling for food at your door…
That time I was summoned to Nashville to write a tell-all about a country music legend. Shortly after, I was approached to pen a true
Within a week of publication of my memoir, the first stalker appeared. Two more would follow. I never dreamt one would sneak into my home.
A writing life is nurtured in beautiful, decadent, messy Savannah.
In a raw Savannah neigborhood, the Rutabaga Woman shines a bright light and brings water to the thirsty.
If your report cards said you talked too much, this story is in your high honor.
My first homily at the age of four. Being Southern, the sermon warned of a grievious sin against good food.
Mama Bear springs into action when a crackhead holds her baby sister hostage. You can’t make this stuff up, people.
Mama’s fondest Chicago memory wasn’t of the racial unrest she helped quell. It was of the stud muffin at her door.