The unspooling of Toni Lee Wells’ Tiffany and Wild Turkey lifestyle begins with a trip to the Luckett County Jail drunk tank. An earlier wrist injury sidelined her pro tennis career, and now she’s trading her tennis whites for wild nights roaming the streets of Rose Hill, Georgia.
Her wealthy family finally gets fed up with her shenanigans. They cut off her monthly allowance but also make her a sweetheart deal: Get a job, keep it for a year, and you’ll receive an early inheritance. Act the fool or get fired, and you’ll lose it for good.
Toni Lee signs up for a fast-track Teacher Corps program. She hopes for an easy teaching gig, but what she gets is an assignment to Harriet Hall, a high school that churns out more thugs than scholars.
What’s a spoiled Southern belle to do when confronted with a bunch of street smart students who are determined to make her life as difficult as possible? Luckily, Carl, a handsome colleague, is willing to help her negotiate the rough teaching waters and keep her bed warm at night. But when Toni Lee gets involved with some dark dealings in the school system, she fears she might lose her new beau as well as her inheritance.
INTERVIEW WITH KARIN GILLESPIE
What five things would you never want to live without?
Red wine, dark chocolate, Chapstick (I’m an addict), reading classes or cheaters as we call them in the South (I’m older than most giant tortoises), and red wine. Did I already mention wine? Well, who cares? It deserves more than one mention.
What would your main character, Toni Lee Wells, say about you?
She would say, “We aren’t the same people,” but in a way we are. I based Girl Meets Class on my experiences teaching at an inner city high school, where a good day was when someone didn’t throw a chair at me. But Toni Lee used to be a semi-pro tennis player, and when my tennis racket isn’t collecting cob webs in the closet, I use it to kill flies. Also she likes horror movies, whereas as I hide under the bed when the Wicked Witch of the West comes on in The Wizard of Oz. We both like wine. Her favorite is Marilyn Merlot; I’ll drink most anything as long as it doesn’t come in a jug.
What’s the worst thing someone has said about your writing? How did you deal with it?
Heavens! What haven’t they said? Someone claimed that my first novel, Bet Your Bottom Dollar, wasn’t worth a dollar. A reviewer called my novel set in heaven “hellish.” I could go on but I won’t because my skin’s gotten so tough you could make it into a set of Samsonite luggage. I did boo-hoo over the first bad one, but now it’s like what the dentist says when he comes at you with the needle. “This will sting a bit.” And it does, but it’s over in a flash. Now if I got a whole slew of reviews all saying the same thing, I would pay attention.
What is your favorite movie? The Matrix, because it’s structured beautifully and I think it’s a metaphor for life. (Aren’t we all blind to some of life’s most important truths?) Also, who can resist Keanu Reeves in black leather and dark shades? Do you have a favorite book?
I think the Accidental Tourist by Anne Tyler is the most perfect novel in the world. It’s beautifully written and well-plotted with unforgettable characters, but it’s also funny. I don’t think there are enough funny novels in the world. Do you sweat the small stuff?
No. Because it’s all small stuff. Except when I’m out of wine. If you had to choose a cliche about life, what would it be?
Don’t worry, be happy. I honestly do believe that joy is our natural state and the universe is most supportive of our endeavors when we are content and appreciate of what we already have. Every time I get into a snit, I try to meander on back to a more positive mental state.
How long is your to-do list?
It can wrap around the circumference of the globe three times with a few hundred feet left over. Authors are one of the hardest working people I know, but at least we can do most of it in our footie PJs.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Karin Gillespie has lived in the South for over forty years and is still
trying to get the hang of it. She’s the author of six novels including
her latest, Girl Meets Class, which is based on experiences teaching at
an inner-city school. She’s written for the New York Times, Washington
Post and Writer magazine. She has book column in the Augusta Chronicle
and a humor column in Augusta Magazine.
Where is Kent Heyward? The twenty-three-year-old heiress from one of Charleston’s oldest families vanished a month ago. When her father hires private investigator Liz Talbot, Liz suspects the most difficult part of her job will be convincing the patriarch his daughter tired of his overbearing nature and left town. That’s what the Charleston Police Department believes.
But behind the garden walls South of Broad, family secrets pop up like weeds in the azaleas. The neighbors recollect violent arguments between Kent and her parents. Eccentric twin uncles and a gaggle of cousins covet the family fortune. And the lingering spirit of a Civil-War-era debutante may know something if Colleen, Liz’s dead best friend, can get her to talk.
Liz juggles her case, the partner she’s in love with, and the family she adores. But the closer she gets to what has become of Kent, the closer Liz dances to her own grave.
Interview with Susan Boyer
Susan, do you have another job outside of writing? No, I have the luxury of focusing on my writing and the business aspects of being an author. I have so much admiration for those who do have other jobs. I don’t know how they do it all.
I agree. Which character did you most enjoy writing? Liz for sure, but Colleen, her best friend who’s been dead since their junior year in high school, would be a close second.
What would your main character say about you? I should exercise more.
Are any of your characters inspired by real people? My characters aren’t based on real people, but I do use snippets of conversation, mannerisms, and things that people do. I mix characteristics from several people, often strangers, into one character.
Is your book based on real events? No, it’s entirely fiction. A few real events are mentioned—like the well-documented ghost sightings at Poogan’s Porch, for example. But none of them are central to the story.
Are you like any of your characters? Liz Talbot has a lot of me in her. She sees the world through my eyes. We’re both Southern, we both love Southern food, Kenny Chesney music, and karaoke. But she is younger, thinner, braver, and thinks of what she wants to say much faster than me.
Where and when do you prefer to do your writing? Either in my office at home or in a hotel room. I write in the mornings and as long into the afternoon or evening as I’m able.
Where’s home for you? Greenville, South Carolina.
You’re given the day off, and you can do anything but write. What would you do? Read in a chair on the beach, then have lunch at a beachfront restaurant. I’d probably order a cheeseburger. Then more reading in the beach chair in the afternoon.
What’s your favorite candy bar? Do truffles count? Absolutely! I love Lindor truffles. My three favorites are milk chocolate, hazelnut, and peanut butter. It’s odd, because Liz loves Dove Dark Chocolate Promises, but I need the truffles to write her.
What do you like to do when you’re not writing? Spend time with family, travel—I especially love St. John, USVI—read, watch a few favorite TV shows. I’m really going to miss Justified. This is the last season.
I love that show!If I could live anywhere, I'd probably pick South Carolina. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be? I’m happy where we are, in Greenville, South Carolina. There are many beautiful places I’d love to visit, but I couldn’t stay because we’d be too far away from our family.
What are you working on now? Lowcountry Bordello, the fourth Liz Talbot mystery, which comes out in November.
About the author
Susan M. Boyer is the author of the USA TODAY bestselling Liz Talbot mystery series. Her debut novel, Lowcountry Boil, won the 2012 Agatha Award for Best First Novel, the Daphne du Maurier Award for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense, and garnered several other award nominations. Lowcountry Boneyard, the third Liz Talbot mystery, was released April 21, 2015. Susan loves beaches, Southern food, and small towns where everyone knows everyone, and everyone has crazy relatives. You’ll find all of the above in her novels.
Susan lives in Greenville, South Carolina, with her husband and an inordinate number of houseplants.
Today I'm happy to feature another work of Southern fiction, Bones of My Brother, by J. Frank Dunkin. To be published by Two Harbors Press, it's scheduled to launch on November 5, 2013. I think y'all are gonna love it...
8/31/13 Note: I'm shocked and saddened to report the sudden death of J. Frank Dunkin in late August, just days after he was featured here. His good friend Betty Summerlin will see that his book is still published this fall. Betty told me he received the galley last weekend, approved
the final few changes on Tuesday, and died happy knowing that his book was
finally published. I hope it sells a million plus copies. Please check out this book, folks. I will update this page when the buy links are available.
1/17/14 Update: I am beyond sad to report that the publishing of Bones of My Brother has been put on indefinite hold. This is heartbreaking news, but I will update this page when I can finally share the publication date.
About the book:
From Alabama at mid‐century, there’d been John and his Evelyn — now from Minnesota at century’s end, Price and his Joy — two couples whose struggles ran as parallel as rails on a track. Had John Hobson’s smile been erased by a long ago war, or had he suffered a more defining chapter in his life? And what of his son, Price, the small‐town boy who stamped his mark upon a corporate world that would ultimately crumble about him?
For one man, there'd been the lure of “Music City” versus the love of his treasured Evie. For the other, there'd been the heady rush of success followed by a precipitous fall from grace. To be sure, a shroud of guilt had marked both men, but when Price learns of his late father’s ambition, his obsession with the past places his marriage in dire jeopardy.
John Hobson was gone now, interred “. . . in nested containers of earth, box and body,” but the secret of his lifelong angst lay not beneath the hot soil of Gethsemane's cemetery, but beneath God's tree in a tiny glade one county over. In the end, a son’s desire to bring his father’s dream to fruition triggers deadly consequences, initiating a journey along a more imperative path.
Bones of My Brother is a compelling look at failure and redemption — humanity and spirituality. At turns heartfelt and raw, this family saga is full of love and intrigue with characters facing questions about the conflict of dreams and reality, love and lust. Could it be that the answers provide a revelation, the seed of a new beginning?
Interview with J. Frank Dunkin
Frank, how long have you been writing, and how did you start?
…since I was twelve years old. I was visiting a friend who lived in a rural part of Perry County, Alabama, a redundant description because almost all of Perry County is rural. Noticing that I had not seen his mother all morning, I asked if she had gone shopping or something. He said, “No, she’s upstairs writing.” Now, who knows why this little kid was so fascinated by that, but I was. When she came downstairs later, we talked a bit about her writing, whereupon I promptly went home and wrote a short story about a rookie baseball player. I passed it on to my friend’s mom for a critique, and she graciously ignored my “rookie” writing style to offer praise and encouragement for my enthusiasm. That woman was Mary Ward Brown, who in later years became one of America’s most beloved short story writers. She passed away this year at age 95.
What a great story! Do you have another job outside of writing?
No, I’m retired from the shopping center development business, where I was Director of Real Estate for national retail chains for twenty-five years.
How would you describe your book in six words?
Father-son saga - their love stories.
How did you create the plot for Bones of My Brother?
I realize a lot of writers work from an outline. I tried that, but once I was into the third chapter, the story started leading me where it wanted to go. In Bones of My Brother, the plot emerged in such a way that it was necessary on dozens of occasions to go back and fill in essential foreshadowing. In a way, you might say this story was written from the inside out, and that the characters themselves demanded a certain plot.
I think that's the best kind of book. What’s your favorite line from a book?
I’ll answer that one with a paragraph from a single book:
“Macomb was an old town, but a tired old town when I first knew it. In rainy weather the streets turned to red slop; grass grew on the sidewalks, the courthouse sagged in the square. Somehow, it was hotter then: a black dog suffered on a summer’s day; bony mules hitched to Hoover carts flicked flies in the sweltering shade of the live oaks on the square. Men’s stiff collars wilted by nine in the morning. Ladies bathed before noon, after their three o’clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum.”
…I’m guessing ninety percent of your readers will know exactly where that paragraph can be found.
No spoiler here. Tell us a book you’re an evangelist for.
The Liberation of Lord Byron Jones – by Jesse Hill Ford. It is a spot-on dissertation of race relations in the Deep South of the 1960’s that is told from both white and black perspectives. The novel was made into a movie for which Ford wrote the screenplay as well. As a result of his writings, he received numerous death threats, which led to an unfortunate incident in which he saw a strange car parked in his drive late one night. He shot the intruder, who turned out to be a young black soldier who had picked that spot for a romantic interlude with his girlfriend. He was tried for murder but not convicted. He never recovered from the psychological impact of this event and later took his own life.
How do you get to know your characters?
They talk to me as I write, and coy and shy as they might initially seem, we eventually become good friends. After spending years conversing with these wonderful friends, it is difficult to let them go. Finishing a novel brings both exultation and a great sense of loss.
Which character did you most enjoy writing?
Old Jesse, who embodies the true spirit of the story’s central theme. Jesse was a poor, giant, muscular black man with a gentle spirit. In the story, he is both a hero and a philosopher. I patterned his appearance after a true-to-life person I knew in my childhood.
Are you like any of your characters?
I am very much like one of the protagonists, Price Hobson. We shared the same type childhoods, both graduated from Auburn University, both were in shopping center development, both lived in a major Midwestern city, traveled constantly, liked our Manhattans shaken with a cherry and twist, both… well, to be honest, I am Price Hobson – although, I will hasten to add that all the other characters are fictional.
With which of your characters would you most like to be stuck in a bookstore?
May I use a little levity here? It would be Bree Montayne, the Irish seductress.
But of course! With what five real people would you most like to be stuck in a bookstore?
I assume you mean writers? If I may choose from the living as well as from the deceased, I would choose O. Henry, Anton Chekov, Ernest Hemingway, Edgar A. Poe, and Harper Lee.
Tell us about your favorite scene in the book.
One of my favorite scenes would be from chapter 6 titled, “God Made Them Folks.”
It is Thanksgiving, 1941 at the Langston Farm House, where a majority of the story’s main characters are assembled for the annual feast in a quaint country setting. The scene begins humorously with the meal’s blessing being said as a sentence prayer, passing from one character to the next:
“Uh, Dear God,” began Sammy, “I’m—I mean we’re—we’re right thankful for this dressing and this big old Tom turkey, and—well, you know, I reckon for all of it, Lord, but especially this turkey. Thank you.”
The order passed over an empty chair, and Nell began her meek mechanics. “Father in Heaven, we thank Thee for this day of Thanksgiving and for this bounty—” The drone of an approaching car prodded Nell’s voice to rise in joyous harmony. “—and for these present and him that’s about to be present at the feast of Your table.” She finished fast and strong, and biting her lower lip, exchanged gleeful glances with Evelyn.
The sentence continued, speeding around the squash, over the okra, and past the mashed potatoes. Now it tarried near the turkey, catching its breath near the head of the table. Earl waited in the kitchen, his timing impeccable, as Wayne Wilkins stole into the living room, silently practicing his excuse.
“All glory be to the Father from whence all good comes!” boomed Mr. Langston. “Lord, our forefathers broke bread with the heath-ern on this day in thankfulness to Thee, so it’s only fittin’ we do the same.”
Sammy packaged his giggle as a burp, but it issued from taut lips like the whistle of a tiny teakettle. When the prayer was finally finished, he avoided John’s eyes.
From this point, the conversation turns to talk of war and discrimination against Jews in Central Europe. Comparisons are made with race relations there in their own little county, ending with a jaw to jaw confrontation over the Thanksgiving feast.
What song would you pick to go with your book?
Bones of My Brother
contains two original songs of the country genre, representative of the
era of the father in the story, so I would choose those two (“Heaven
Sent Evelyn” and “Wanderlust”), which were recorded in Nashville in
July. But I would also choose Muzetta’s Waltz and Clair de Lune, the
type of music preferred by the son.
Book Trailer
How long is your to-be-read pile?
A wise college professor, whose name I forget, once told me to read all the tried and true classics that have withstood the test of time. So I started with the book of Genesis and after all these years I’m still trying to finish the classics – there are thousands of them. If I ever finish that list, I will move on to writers who are actually still living.
Where’s home for you?
Foley, Alabama, on the Gulf Coast.
Whoa! I know exactly where that is. My father and step-mother live in Fairhope. Small world! But I digress...Neil Gaiman said, “Picking five favorite books is like picking five body parts you'd most like not to lose.” So…what are your five favorite books and your five body parts you’d most like not to lose?
The Collected Short Stories of Ernest Hemingway, Tongues of Flame, The Complete Edgar Allan Poe Tales, To Kill a Mockingbird, and Proverbs… but ask me this question again next week, and my answer might be different. (I have a lot of body parts I don’t want to lose!) Oh, that's cheating! Your last meal would be…
Fried minute steak, mashed potatoes, beefsteak tomatoes, cantaloupe, and asparagus. (I just threw asparagus in to see if anyone was listening.)
Yeah, you had me until asparagus. You won the lottery. What’s the first thing you would buy?
Security for my grandchildren (just before leaving on a six-month world cruise). Very wise. You can be any fictional character for one day. Who would you be?
Atticus Finch. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
Somewhere along France’s Cote ‘d Azure—-maybe Antibes.
An excerpt from Bones of My Brother:
FROM CHAPTER 34
That night, Jesse’s sermon made its way into my dreams, and I awoke with a start. Had it been my old friend’s chiding or the wind that had disturbed me? I rolled over and looked at the clock. It was past midnight, yet the room was washed in a twilight glow that softened Joy’s features in shades of pastel. Thinking I’d heard windchimes, I stood and pulled back the drape. Before me lay an icy lawn punctured with glittering trees, each a crystal chandelier. The storm had moved eastward, leaving the snow-covered lawn a canvas of shadows rendered in bold strokes by an inspired moon.
Why had I been so reluctant to read the Christmas story? I imagined the answer stemmed from the fact that I’d compromised my beliefs a thousand times in business since those early Christmas Eves. During my years with Merriam-Bellows, I’d come to realize that most of what I heard at conventions in Vegas and across conference tables from New York to San Francisco had been dishonesty and deception, and I’d learned to fight fire with fire. I’d bested them at their own game. Deceit had become commonplace, and only in recent months had I begun to recognize and regret what I’d become. I’d heard and uttered the phrase, “It’s just business” so often that I’d come to believe it.
Somehow I’d managed to hold this philosophy at bay in my personal life, and so it seemed I’d become two separate people. Such a person had no business leading a Bible study or taking part in Communion. But just when had my love of family replaced my love of God? I didn’t know, and perhaps it no longer mattered. I had my wife, my children, and now I had a grandchild.
I thought of little Liz in her slumber, sheltered and protected by loving parents and how wonderful it was to witness the blossoming of their parental instincts. It stimulated memories of my own parents and summoned, as well, those nights Joy and I had stood near our own children’s beds, touched by their innocence, awestruck by our responsibility. I pulled my robe from the bedpost and set off down the hall in search of yesterday.
The little one lay on her back, her tiny head turned to the side. Below the upturned nose, her perfect lips were parted, and her breathing was peaceful. I reached down and placed my palm softly upon the chest of an angel. Often I’d stood this way with my own babies, and each time a profound energy had fed through my fingers, flowing the length of my arm to flush my heart with wonder. So Jesse’s philosophy was that life is not about dreams or family. Dreams? I’d conceded those all my life. But family? Of course life was about family! What else was there?
A stream of light entered the room, and I knew I’d been caught. “Dad,” said Rachel, “what are you doing?”
“Falling in love!” I whispered.
About the author:
J. Frank Dunkin grew up in Marion, Alabama during
the heyday of the Grand Ole Opry and the birth of Rock and Roll. To him,
the days were golden, nights were sweet, and movies offered escape to
the Wild West or South Pacific. Graduating from Auburn University with a
degree in Fine Arts, Dunkin served a tour of duty in Korea and worked
as art director for small publications before moving into the world of
corporate real estate. His stories draw heavily from his own experiences
and travels.
The Button Collector is Elizabeth Jennings just-released novel, published by PageSpring Publishing’s Cup of Tea Books imprint. PageSpring is offering an introductory discount of 45 percent on the paperback edition only (US markets) through May 24.
About the book:
On a gray day at a gritty flea market, Caroline Tilghman stumbles upon an unlikely treasure—-jars and jars of buttons in a dazzling kaleidoscope of colors.
Caroline is reminded of something she has made herself forget-—she too has a jar of buttons, an inheritance from her mother, which she has put on the back of a shelf. Out of sight. Out of mind. Out of her life.
That night, Caroline takes the jar down from the shelf. Intending only to look at the buttons, she opens the lid . . . and pours out her family's secrets.
The Button Collector unfolds with a series of vignettes in which each button reveals a piece of the bittersweet history of Caroline's family. A tragic accident forever alters the relationship between Caroline, her mother Emma, and her cousin Gail. Caroline sifts through the joys and anguishes of the past, bringing both herself and the reader to the realization that memories—-like buttons—-can sometimes be used to fasten together something we have left undone by mistake.
Interview with Elizabeth Jennings
Welcome, Elizabeth. How did you come up with the title The Button Collector?
I’ve gone through many titles for my book, which is based on stories connected to a family’s button collection. The original was The Button Bag because in my family we kept buttons in an old cloth bag. Next was Circles of Color, a phrase from the opening. Much later I decided to emphasize the story collection aspect and changed the title to The Button Collection. When I got a contract with PageSpring Publishing, my editor wanted me to try The Button Jar because it’s a stronger visual image. Finally, the publisher suggested The Button Collector so that readers would be able to connect with a specific character and real-life button collectors would be able to find it easily. By this point, the book was much more of a novel than a collection, so I think it’s perfect.
Do you have another job outside of writing?
I am a professional dabbler. Besides writing fiction, I have worked as a newspaper features writer and advertising copy writer, and I’ve done all sorts of free-lance work. I’ve also worked as a tutor, adjunct instructor for a community college, director of a literacy council, university press intern, and the advisor for the creative arts journal at a girls’ middle school. I never know what I’ll be doing next, but I’m thinking about teaching a continuing education class on blogging. I’ve enjoyed the blogging aspect of being an author. I get to write whatever I want. It’s like opium for a writer.
That's a good analogy. How would you describe your book in a tweet?
A jar of old buttons...A collection of memories...A linking of tales....
How did you create the plot for this book?
Plot is my weakness so it was a long, painful process in some ways, but now I can say that I’m happy with how it turned out, so I believe that this was simply how my book was meant to evolve. The Button Collector is a novel in stories, similar to How to Make an American Quilt by Whitney Otto or Susan Vreeland’s Girl in Hyacinth Blue. At first the stories were quite episodic, but the characters began to introduce recurring plot elements on their own, especially the narrator, Caroline. It is her process of reconciliation that forms the basis of the overarching plot, but originally most of this happened in the final section. My editor suggested a revision that would pull elements from this final section and spread them throughout the book, making it clearly a novel rather than a story collection. I’d received other suggestions over the years—-such as limiting the points of view—-but this idea immediately struck me as the right one and it was surprisingly easy to do.
Did you have any say in your cover art? What do you think of it? Tell us about the artist.
I didn’t have a say in the cover art, but that didn’t stop me from shooting off some panicky emails when my imagination went into overdrive about any number of cheesy possibilities! Fortunately, I love the cover art by Britanee Sickles, and it’s actually very close to what I had in my mind. The buttons spilling out of the jar have a mysterious quality and the colors are like jewels. The thing that is somewhat unique about my book is that in addition to the cover art, a pen and ink drawing prefaces each story. Sarah Allgire was the wonderful artist for these. The drawings offer a nice visual hook and give the book a little multimedia flavor.
Tell us a book you’re an evangelist for.
I stumbled across a book called The Hero’s Walk by Anita Rau Badami, which tells the story of a Canadian orphan who goes to live with her grandparents in India. The exotic appeal of the Indian segments drew me in—-my book has a touch of India in it, too—-but the plot is also perfectly done in terms of building up suspense. I think the reason it touched me so deeply was because the characters exhibit a deep and genuine tenderness as they struggle to make connections with each other. I wish more people would read it!
Have you ever bought any books just for the cover? Did you enjoy the book(s)?
I love book covers, and they are indeed factors when I choose a book, but not usually the deciding factor. There is one book, however, that I definitely bought because of the combination of the cover and the title-—The Earth Hums in B Flat by Mari Strachan, a Welsh author. I ADORE that title and the cover is this wonderful, mystical drawing of a girl floating upward. I’ve since seen the UK cover and it is even more gorgeous—it shows a luminous orb held by a girl’s hands with her body blocked from view. Fortunately, the book entirely lived up to its perfect packaging. I love it.
What do you do to market your book?
The most unusual thing I’ve done to market my book is an interactive reader feature on my blog called "Flash Fiction, Button Style." It invites readers to email a picture of a button, and I write a flash fiction piece telling the button’s story. It’s been fun! I limit it to 250 words in one hour so that I don’t go off the deep end with it. People ask me how I come up with the ideas for the stories, and I have to laugh. Coming up with ideas is one thing I never have trouble doing—-implementing ideas is another story, which is why limiting the scope works so well. I’ve also jumped into online marketing and I’ve found it almost as enjoyable as writing the book.
I have a website, blog, book trailer on YouTube, Twitter account, Facebook page, Goodreads, LibraryThing, etc. I’ve enjoyed getting to know other bloggers, writers, and reviewers who’ve agreed to read my book. I’ve also had good luck getting endorsements from authors I admire—-Ann B. Ross, who writes the Miss Julia series of Southern humor books, Amy Willoughby--Burle, who is a North Carolina short story writer, and Susan Vreeland, who wrote Girl in Hyacinth Blue, The Passion of Artemisia and other best sellers. I was over the moon when Vreeland did a blurb for me because her work has a kinship with my own, or at least with what I’m striving to achieve.
Do you have imaginary friends? When do they talk to you? Do they tell you what to write or do you poke them with a Q-tip?
Do you mean there are people who don’t have imaginary friends? I not only have imaginary friends, I have imaginary families, clans, and villages. Sometimes I wonder if I should be concerned that they are so real. I’m usually the one who approaches them, and while they don’t tell me what to write, I’ve found that usually they have some wisdom to offer if I stop and try to figure out what it is.
Which character did you most enjoy writing?
In The Button Collector, Caroline’s husband, Rishi, made a late appearance in the writing process, but I immediately liked him. By that point, Caroline’s identity of thwarting traditional Southern expectations was firmly established, so it made sense that she would go outside her culture if and when she married. Rishi is from India, with a Hindu upbringing, so he serves as a contrast to Caroline’s WASP family. It was fun to put a twist on the scenario and have Rishi quickly fit in with the clan, which forced Caroline to re-examine some assumptions she had made about her family and herself. Plus, Rishi is easy-going, good looking, and makes homemade chicken tikka masala. Who wouldn’t like Rishi?
What are your favorite books?
a) As a child my favorite was The Witch of Blackbird Pond--even then I was attracted to multi-cultural perspectives, especially when they collided. The interface between the Puritans and the free-spirited girl from the Caribbean fascinated me.
b) As a teenager I was a serious Lord of the Rings fangirl. I’m talking posters, calendars, ephemera, multiple re-readings--the whole nine yards. I believe the fantasy genre enables people to examine their own human hopes and fears and dreams from a different angle even as it offers an expansive retreat from the ordinary. To this day, I have a weakness for fantasy and happily claim the title of nerd.
c) As an adult, Anne Tyler’s Saint Maybe is my all-time favorite, which kind of goes against the whole fantasy inclination, but somehow both are true. The character of Ian and the dilemmas he faced were so heartbreakingly human and true. Tyler’s work is also the type of fiction I usually write—-quiet, introspective, character-driven.
Tell us one weird thing, one nice thing, and one fact about where you live.
Most of the squirrels in my backyard are white and they bully the gray squirrels. We are surrounded by waterfalls and public forests. The Eastern Continental Divide passes through our county.
Is there anything in particular that you do to help the writing flow? Music? Acting out the scene? Long showers?
I’m a firm believer in the idea that the more you write, the easier it is to experience flow—-that almost magical immersion in your work during which you’re calmly focused and time flies. Little rituals can be helpful in getting to that place, but really the only secret for me is to write almost every day. When you do this, your mind—-both the conscious and subconscious parts-—will continue working on the story even when you’re not writing. Before long a character will tell you something or you’ll envision a scene in your head or a sequence or connection will pop up like an idea balloon, and you’ll have to sneak back to the keyboard and get it down.
Watch The Button Collector book trailer:
About the author:
Elizabeth Jennings has worked as a features writer,
copywriter, tutor, and adjunct instructor, but first and foremost, she
is a reader on the hunt for the next great story. Her short fiction has
appeared in a variety of publications, including Prime Number Magazine,
Apalachee Review, and the children’s magazine Ladybug. A native of
Clemson, South Carolina, she earned degrees in English from The
University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and The University of
Delaware. She lives with her family within view of Mount Pisgah in the
ancient and lush Blue Ridge Mountains. As both author and reader,
Jennings has a deep affinity for quiet, character-driven stories and
novels. She also has a fondness for frame tales and interconnected
stories in which the individual pieces offer commentary on each other
and come together to create a mosaic of various textures and moods.
Since college, she has been fascinated with different forms of female
creativity and the ways it has been expressed historically. The Button Collector is her first novel and is based on the idea that the smallest
things around us can have meaning and offer perspective on the larger
story that is our life. Connect with Elizabeth: Website | Blog | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | Publisher
Author Billie Thomas and I have a lot in common. We've both written a cozy mystery, both of our books feature women sleuths, both are the first in a series, both are peppered with humor, and both are set in the South. So I am thrilled to have Billie's main character, Chloe Carstairs, from Murder on the First Day of Christmas here today. Darlin's, sit yourself down and be prepared to be charmed by Chloe.
About the book:
Finding a severed hand at a client’s house might throw lesser decorators off their games. But Chloe Carstairs and her mother, Amanda, won’t let a little thing like murder keep them from decking the halls. With a body under the partridge’s pear tree and a dead Santa in a sleigh, they have to crack the case before the killer strikes again – this time much too close to home.
Filled with laugh-out-loud humor, romance and a delightfully difficult mother-daughter relationship, this new series from Billie Thomas offers a fast-paced caper as these two southern ladies try to keep their very merry Christmas from turning into the Noel from hell.
About Chloe:
Chloe Carstairs is an interior decorator, amateur investigator, and serial dater. Together, she and her mother, Amanda Carstairs, solve mysteries. And try not to get each other killed in the process. Chloe is always looking for a clue, trying to catch a killer and a man. As she says on her blog, Chloe Gets A Clue, romance is the one mystery she can't seem to solve.
Interview with Chloe Carstairs:
Welcome, Chloe! I loved your book and am anxious to talk to you about it. In Murder On The First Day of Christmas, you and your mom team up to find a killer. How did that partnership come about?
Mom is actually a degreed interior designer who had a very successful business for years. She retired a couple of years ago and was only doing projects that really interested her, plus the Christmas houses. I could tell she was getting restless. I’ve been helping her on jobs since I was a teen, and after I got burned out on graphic design, I began taking on decorating jobs with her guidance. We had so much fun decorating and investigating, this past Christmas, we’ve decided to team up for more jobs. I think we were both surprised at how well we worked together. Our relationship’s always been a bit of a roller coaster.
I cannot imagine being partners with my mother. She would constantly play the mom card. How’s it been going since you teamed up with your mom?
Trust me, Amanda Carstairs whips out the mom card almost as fast as she whips out her Saks card. But I’ve learned to hold my own. I think she’s coming to respect me as a decorator, and the danger we got into during our first case somehow brought us closer. We still clash sometimes, but this is the best we’ve gotten along in years, so I’m trying not to jinx it.
How did an interior decorator end up being a sleuth?
I introduced myself at a coffee shop where she likes to hang out. We bonded over a mutual love of chai lattes and started spending a lot of time together during NaNo a few years ago. Want to dish about her?
Always. Billie Thomas (not her real name) works at an advertising agency, which might explain why she’s constantly thinking up ways to kill people without getting caught. She lives in Birmingham, not far from me and has a really cute boyfriend (must be nice) and an even cuter dog.
Did you ever think your life would end up being in a book?
Not a mystery book, no. But then I never thought I’d find a severed hand or have two clients drop dead in homes I decorated. Naturally, I blame Mom. Natch. Tell us about your favorite scene in the book.
I loved when I was interrogating Robin Woodson, a woman suspected of killing two of her husbands. I felt like I was matching wits with a clever killer, but I was surprised to find I kind of liked her too. Like me, she loves chick flicks and going to movies by herself. A very cool girl. As homicidal maniacs go.
Well, don't hold that against her, bless her heart. Did you have a hard time convincing Billie to write any particular scenes for you?
No she pretty much does what she wants. If anything, I'd love her to delete the scenes where my mom shamelessly flirts with one of Birmingham’s most notorious criminals to extract information. I don’t know what was worse: watching her do it or seeing that it worked.
If you could rewrite anything in your book, what would it be?
That scene near the end where I have to tackle the killer and end up mooning half the Birmingham Police Department, including that cute Yankee cop, who’s never going to let me live it down. That was uncalled for, Billie. Uncalled for!
And to top it off, she made you wear polka dot panties that day. She could have at least put you into a hot little Victoria's Secret number. Okay, now tell the truth. What do you think of your fellow characters?
What impression do you make on people when they first meet you? Does that impression change after they've known you for a while?
I’ve been told I come off a little ditzy, but after people get to know me better they revise that to a lot ditzy. Oh, honey, that's not true. Well, maybe a little bit. We'd best move on. Tell us about your best friend.
She said she was going to take a break from dating and just work on herself for a while, but the way she keeps going on and on about how hot her therapist is doesn’t bode well for that plan.
What are you most afraid of?
Turning into my mother and being totally okay with that. Shudder.
What’s the best trait Billie has given you?
My sense of humor is by far my best trait. It’s gotten me out of some pretty sticky situations, let me tell you.
Laugh or cry, that's what I say. What’s the worst trait she's given you?
I’d say the worst trait is my small-breastedness. Billie’d argue that the former contributes to the latter, but I’m not buying it.
What do you like best about your mother, Amanda?
Okay, she’s not going to see this, right?
I can't say never, because you know mothers--they tend to find out everything, but chances are slim.
Because, while I admire her confidence, I don’t think she needs any more of it. But yeah, I like the way she just projects this air of self-assurance that other people –especially men – respond to. I could definitely use a little more of that.
What do you dislike about her?
My least favorite quality is the way she always has to be right. Followed closely by the way she usually is.
Oh, that can be annoying. But that's not as bad as having a mother who's frequently wrong but never uncertain. Know what I mean? I'm not naming names, I'm just sayin'. How do you feel about your life right now? What, if anything, would you like to change?
This uncertainty about my relationship with Jacob is taking its toll. I’m thirty now and a little surprised to find I’m ready to be married and start a family. I never thought I’d be “that girl.” I just wish I knew definitively if it were going to work out for us, so I could move forward or move on. Billie’s not one for spoilers though, which is really an annoying trait in a writer.
So you’re...romantically challenged and a serial dater? Are you a serial dater because you’re romantically challenged?
I’m afraid so. I’d rather be with just Jacob, but when I hinted that I could see us getting married, he got a little freaked out. And then called my bluff when I suggested we see other people. So yeah, I’ve been dating like crazy – and I use that term deliberately – because I can’t just sit around waiting for Jacob to come to his senses.
Can you tell us a little about Jacob?
He’s a very cute architect with soccer player calves and commitment issues. Right up my alley. We’re working together on a project right now – turning an old castle into a bed-and-breakfast. I think collaborating is bringing us closer, but we’re still not officially back together.
Tell the truth—-were you attracted to that detective, or that cute DA—-you know, the one you called "Mr. Six Feet of Sex Appeal?"
The detective, Max McGowan was too infuriating to be attractive at first, but I admit, he grew on me. He’s not my type, really, but I can see the appeal. Maybe I’ll introduce him to my friend Dana. Jack Lassiter, on the other hand, is every girl’s type, and the perfect way to make a commitment-phobic boyfriend jealous. Appearances can be deceiving however. That guy had some major issues.
You just come on down to Goose Pimple Junction, Chloe. There are a few eligible men Tess could introduce you to.She or Louetta will fix you right up.But I wonder if Billie would let you go. What aspect of her writing style do you like best?
She really captures the humor and affection between my mom and myself. The reviews usually mention this, so I’m not alone in thinking she gets it right. I have the feeling she’s basing us on the real-life relationship she had with her mom, so it comes across as very genuine.
Yes it does. If your story were a movie, who would play you?
That’s a hard one. I’d definitely say a fifty-something Debbie Reynolds to play my mom, Amanda. She’s the perfect combination of sophistication and dry humor. As for me, Julia Louis-Dryfus at thirty, maybe. Or Mindy Kaling, though Billie would have to revise the plot quite a bit to accommodate Mindy’s ability to tan. Will you encourage Billie to write a sequel?
She’s already working on Murder in a Two-Seater.
Yay! Tell us about it.
Mom and I investigate a homicide at a spooky old castle during a classic car show. I’m not looking forward to it, to be honest. The castle is rumored to be haunted, and while I ain’t scared of no ghosts, I’m not about to go fooling around with the afterworld, especially when my dad’s being accused of murder in this one.
Oooh, that sounds so good. I can't wait to read it. And you better come back to tell us about it once it's out, or Tess will hunt you down and make you drink regular tea--sans the sweet or the lemon.Gasp!
Chloe, thanks for chatting with us. And thanks for talking with Tess on your blog about life in Goose Pimple Junction. She had a blast.
About the author:
Billie Thomas is the pseudonym of a Birmingham-based author.
After the real Billie passed away unexpectedly at the end of 2011, getting Murder on the First Day of Christmas,
the first of a series, revised and published was her daughter’s top priority as
a way to honor the mom who had given her a lifelong love of books.
In her real life, Ms. Thomas writes within the advertising
industry and is a founding member of the writing collective, IndieVisible.
I'm happy to have Kim Boykin here today to talk about her just released novel, The Wisdom of Hair. The chick lit book, published by Berkley Books, has been touted by NYT bestselling novelist and author of Ocean Beach, Wendy Wax, as, "A lovely, engaging novel...witty and eloquent." In addition to an interview with Kim, we're treated with a guest post and a book excerpt.
About the book:
"The problem with cutting your own hair is that once you start, you just
keep cutting, trying to fix it, and the truth is, some things can never
be fixed. The day of my daddy's funeral, I cut my bangs until they were
the length of those little paintbrushes that come with dime-store
watercolor sets. I was nine years old. People asked me why I did it, but
I was too young then to know I was changing my hair because I wanted to
change my life."
In 1983, on her nineteenth birthday, Zora
Adams finally says goodbye to her alcoholic mother and their tiny town
in the mountains of South Carolina. Living with a woman who dresses like
Judy Garland and brings home a different man each night is not a pretty
existence, and Zora is ready for life to be beautiful.
With
the help of a beloved teacher, she moves to a coastal town and enrolls
in the Davenport School of Beauty. Under the tutelage of Mrs. Cathcart,
she learns the art of fixing hair, and becomes fast friends with the
lively Sara Jane Farquhar, a natural hair stylist. She also falls hard
for handsome young widower Winston Sawyer, who is drowning his grief in
bourbon. She couldn't save Mama, but maybe she can save him.
As
Zora practices finger waves, updos, and spit curls, she also comes to
learn that few things are permanent in this life--except real love,
lasting friendship, and, ultimately... forgiveness.
Interview with Kim Boykin
Welcome, Kim! I love the title of your book. How did you come up with it?
I was at a pitch conference in New York and the editor who eventually bought my book that was titled Separate Ways at the time said, “Yeah, but what’s the book really about?” I told her it’s about the wisdom of hair, that women change their hair to change their lives and she said, “THAT’S your title.” And she was right.
Do you have another job outside of writing?
Nope. I spend most days writing in my pajamas. I admire those folks who hold down a job or have little kids and write. They are probably way more organized than I am, which isn’t hard.
Do you outline, write by the seat of your pants, or let your characters tell you what to write?
I never use an outline and have little to know idea of where the story’s going when I start out. I just listen to the voices as they carry me along. I’m not ashamed to say I do hear voices and would be devastated if I didn’t. When my characters get stuck or something’s not making sense, I stop and figure things out, but for the most part, I just put my people in a box and see what they do.
Did you have any say in your cover art? The only real say I had was with the first proof I saw. The background was steel gray, the hair dryer was red, and there was hardly any of the woman’s face showing. I complained that it didn’t look at all like the story inside, and they made it gorgeous, purples and green, more of the model’s pretty face. I LOVE IT!
I do too! Which character did you most enjoy writing?
Without a doubt-Sara Jane Farquhar. She’s a big gorgeous woman with a mouth on her and the best friend a girl could wish for. Heck, even I wish I had a Sara Jane Farquhar in my stable of friends.
I’m constantly on the lookout for new names. How do you name your characters?
Interesting question. Initially, her name was Shirley, a good sturdy Appalachian mountain name, but I thought I needed a sexier name and Zora came to me. I have a book of names I look up the meanings of names to see if they’re on target with their characters and lo and behold, Zora means “the light of the dawn.” It’s a fitting name since The Wisdom of Hair is a coming of age story.
What book are you currently reading and in what format (e-book/paperback/hardcover)? For all the indie bookstore fans, I’m ashamed to say that I’ve tried, but I have a really hard time reading “real books” these days. I’m a Kindle girl so far because I read faster and way more with an eReader. I’m writing a romance now, so that’s what I’ve been reading. Too many titles to mention. Everything from Sylvia Day’s Crossfire series to Brenda Novak’s Whiskey Creek Series, to Why We Never Danced the Charleston by Harlan Greene, and everything in between.
If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?
Right down the road on a little island called the Isle of Palms near Charleston, South Carolina. Conde Naste travel magazine proclaimed Charleston the number one tourist destination in the world, and of course the US. We have a vacation home there and it gets harder and harder to leave each visit. Phenomenal weather, food, and people. Y’all come!
What are you working on now? A love story set in the Charleston Lowcountry during 1952. It’s loads of fun to write.
Kim's Guest Post
FINDING YOUR DREAMS AT BETTY'S BEAUTY SALON
by Kim Boykin
I
was born in the ’50′s in a time when women were encouraged to stay home
and dream for their husbands and their children, for anybody but
themselves. Somewhere in all that, my mom decided she wanted to go to
beauty school.
To this day, even at 81 Mom is still gorgeous and has
always enjoyed the latest styles and fashions. Working at the Bomb Plant
(we’ll save this topic for a later blog) and with three daughters, my
dad thought he should save every penny rather than opening his wallet
which would certainly have resulted in financial ruin. Mom was a
resourceful woman. She figured out how to whip up the latest styles, but
in a time where women had their hair washed and set once a week, and by
set I mean girded in lacquer so that it was like a pretty plastic
helmet, she was stumped. She wanted to learn how to fix her hair, and
with my older sisters nearing college age, she wanted to be able to send
us to college, something my dad wasn’t totally on board with at the
time.
Out of all this, Betty’s Beauty Salon came to be in a shabby
little row of buildings on Main Street, New Ellenton, South Carolina. Mom worked
hard and worked her way into a nicer building, and while the digs
changed significantly, one thing NEVER changed. Women came to her shop
to find themselves, to nurture themselves, something that wasn’t at all
en vogue like it is today, and to find their dreams.
Maybe they were
drawn there because it was a safe place to be yourself, to speak your
mind, to share your joys and your sorrows. Aside from a phenomenal
haircut, great color, or a scalp massage that often had her clients
purring, I believe they were drawn to Mom’s dream itself. Whether it was
her or the dryers and shampoo bowls or the building with the little
wooden sign over the door, Betty’s Beauty Salon represented a dream that
one brave woman dare to dream; and it actually came TRUE! And isn’t
that what we all want? At least once?
I’ve got my dream, it’s 292
pages long and debuted 3/5/13. My wish for you is that you find yours,
and if you haven’t found it yet, answer the call to find it, even in the
most unassuming places.
Excerpt from The Wisdom of Hair
According to the brochure, beauty school was supposed to be
The Beginning of an Exciting Career That Will Last a Lifetime. But the
first thing that caught my eye when I walked through the front door of
the Davenport School of Beauty was a sign on slick white poster board
posted by the cash register. A bubble over a pair of legs said, NO MORE
THAN THREE ABOVE THE KNEE. Looking down at my uniform, I didn’t need a
ruler to tell me that I was out of line.
I pulled at the sides of
my uniform, trying to lengthen the hem like a lot of the other students. I could just picture us all after school let out, sitting around our
respective homes with scissors, big red tomato pin cushions, and spools
of white thread scattered about, undoing our hemlines.
Nobody looked
anything like the proud confident blonde on the cover of the brochure,
except for one girl. She was the only one not worrying with her dress.
Hers was an inch or two below the knee and had a sassy little slit up
the back. From the neck up, she looked like a movie star, and the way
she carried herself made you forget that she could probably afford to
lose fifty or sixty pounds.
As attendance was called, we were
supposed to introduce ourselves. Some of the girls stammered or giggled.
My own voice came out just above a whisper, but the big girl spoke in a
deep, sexy drawl with a proud confidence that every single girl in the
room coveted. We looked at Sara Jane Farquhar in awe, and there wasn’t a
single soul in that room, even our instructor, who didn’t want to be
her.
“Now, ladies, I am Mrs. Cathcart, your instructor here at the
Davenport School of Beauty. I’d like to welcome you, the winter class
of 1983.” She paused, waiting for us to applaud ourselves. When we
didn’t, she did, and we all joined in. “As students, you’ll learn the
art of fixing hair over the next six months. Along with the latest
fashion trends, you will master vital skills like pin curls and finger
waves. And though perms and color will be your bread and butter, if you
can learn to do an upsweep, you can make a fortune these days.”
“Class,
if you can give a woman a good hairdo, she will crawl to you on her
deathbed for you to fix her hair. A woman whose hair has been properly
colored is a customer for life. Let me assure all of you, there is
great honor in making a woman in your charge look and feel beautiful.
This is indeed one of life’s highest callings.”
We stood there
applauding for all we were worth, completely mesmerized by Mrs.
Cathcart’s address to the Class of 1983. I looked around the room.
There were twenty-three of us. One girl was crying. Later on, when
she dropped out, Mrs. Cathcart would say she was called elsewhere.
After
the applause ended, Mrs. Cathcart led us past the area with all of the
dryers and shampoo bowls to a large room in the back that was both
storage room and our classroom. Each workstation had a faceless
mannequin head with glossy black hair. All of them were identical,
except one or two looked newer than the others.
Most everyone
leafed through the blue clothbound textbook at each station, except for
the crying girl. She ran her hand over the top of Cosmetology Today and
started to cry again. She bawled at the drop of a hat, everyday. I
think it must have had something to do with her being pregnant, although
I don’t think she knew she was at the time.
Sara Jane Farquhar
leafed through her book, and then shoved it onto the little shelf under
the top of her workstation. She looked at Mrs. Cathcart like she already
knew it cover to cover and was ready to go to work. Mrs. Cathcart gave
Sara Jane a dirty look and told everyone to open her texts to page one.
All of Mrs. Cathcart’s lessons were drawn out on the back of old
maps, the kind teachers pull down like window shades. They were old and
yellow and torn in a couple of places, but when she pointed her
yardstick to Cosmetology, an Introduction and started teaching, it was
clear that she was a very good teacher.
I was the only one who took
notes; I may have been the only girl there who knew how to take notes.
Mrs. Cathcart liked that. She smiled and nodded at me every time I
recognized something important and wrote it down. She went on for at
least two hours before she told us we could have a break. There was a
rush for the Coke machine, which by the time I got there only took exact
change.
“You need dimes?”
I looked up and saw Sara Jane
Farquhar smiling at me with a Coca-Cola in her hand.
“Thanks.” I
handed her my quarter, but she gave it right back.
“Keep it. I always have change.”
“Thanks. I’m Zora.”
“I’m
Sara Jane Farquhar,” she said, the way Marilyn Monroe might have
introduced herself. Sara Jane wasn’t putting on; that was just the way
she talked. “So what do you think about all this?”
“I’m excited and a little nervous, how about you?”
A
group of girls were huddled together listening to a bony girl with a
bad perm mimic Mrs. Cathcart’s speech to us. All of them kept cutting
their eyes around to make sure she didn’t come around the corner and
catch them.
“They shouldn’t be making fun of her,” I said.
Sara Jane nodded. “The joke’s on them. Everything Mrs. Carthcart said was right.”
“She’s sweet, but don’t you think she’s a little overly dramatic?”
“Maybe,
but women come to a stylist because they want to feel beautiful. Even
if it’s just for that one hour they sit in your chair, even if their
hair looks like hell the next morning. For an hour, they had the
undivided attention of someone focused on making them beautiful. They
don’t get that in real life unless they give it to themselves, and a lot
of women just seem to give up on that.” Sara Jane took a swig of her
Coke. “But I don’t have to tell you that. You’ve been to a stylist; you
know what I’m talking about.”
I nodded, and hoped she couldn’t see my
embarrassment. I’d never been to a beauty salon; never had anybody cut
my hair but Mama and Nana. I didn’t have a clue as to what she was
talking about, but I believed every word Sara Jane Farquhar said.
“So, where do you live?”
“Just off Main in a little apartment on Beckett Street.”
“You’re lucky to have your own place. I live with my parents.”
Mama
had embarrassed me so many times when prospective friends came over,
the thought of inviting someone like Sara Jane Farquhar to my apartment
made me nauseous. But after two days in Davenport, I was lonely, and
gawking over Winston Sawyer hadn’t helped any. “Do you want to come over today--after class?”
“Sure.” Sara Jane smiled, and pushed one of her perfectly bleached blonde tresses off of her face. “That would be fun.”
I
explained the arrangement I had with the owner and she said that was
fine by her. She would keep me company while I cooked. She also showed
me how to pour salted peanuts into my Coke bottle during one of our
breaks. She said it was a good, quick snack because you could eat and
drink at the same time. The salty and sweet tasted good to me, but I
almost choked the first time I tried it.
It’s funny how neither of
us ever really said anything about being best friends that day, the way
you might on the first day of grade school, but after two fifteen-minute
breaks and a lunch together, we just were.
About the author:
Kim Boykin learned about women and their hair in her
mother’s beauty shop in a tiny South Carolina town. She loves to write
stories about strong Southern women and is an accomplished public
speaker. She lives in Charlotte, North Carolina, with her husband, three
dogs, and 126 rose bushes.
