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| Knoxville, TN |
It would be a lie if I said I ever considered doing things differently. Because when it comes to writing, I could not wrest a different variety of storytelling from my fingers. It's my art. And art it too precious and important to be tossed aside for any sort of fashion. For trends. For bandwagons and crowds. So when I say that I've done some reflecting, it's never because I want to write something different; only that I want to find the best way to express myself, so that readers will understand that, yes, though these stories are not the mainstream, it is because I don't want them to be. Writing, for me, is an art form that has the special capability of capturing an essence of real life. It gathers up nostalgia and heartbreak and the bitter dust of reality, and presses it into inked pages. And that is magic. That is what echoes in the mind long, long after.
So I guess what I'm rambling about on a Monday morning, is my wish not to serve up fast food fare in the hopes that you'll gobble it down, not remembering the taste as soon as it's left your tongue. I'm hoping instead you'll take a trip with me; that you'll walk beneath the swaying streetlights of an unremarkable Southern town, and breathe the smell of river water, and know these people because they are attainable and human. And love them because they are just as extraordinary and resilient as you are.
I'm Southern, after all. I love Gothic, and epic, and taut, and subtle.
Listening for a day of Southern literary reflection:
"God's Gonna Cut You Down" - Johnny Cash
"Nothing Else Matters" - Lissie (cover of the Metallica song)
"Turning Home" - David Nail
"Every Storm" - Gary Allan
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