Gutters & Stars: An Excerpt From The Cracker Queen
A writing life is nurtured in beautiful, decadent, messy Savannah.
Musings
A writing life is nurtured in beautiful, decadent, messy Savannah.
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.
A tale so fantastic I wouldn’t believe it–had it not happened to me. Douse the overhead lights, curl up with a hot beverage, and enjoy
A story about the assumptions we make–and the consequences of lousy artistic skill.
There’s more than meets the nose when it comes to those treacly and comfort food aromas of fall candles. Lauretta busts the conspiracy wide open
“He was the first punk,” says John Waters. “He was the first everything.”
We hit the streets to offer food, cold drinks, and a listening ear to our unsheltered neighbors. Three encounters stand out. I rolled with the