I have noticed that the number of visitors to this site has more than tripled in the last few weeks, which is fine, although like most capitalist-inclined writers I notice I am not selling any of my new books online. Oh, well. God is beyond good to me, and he is allowing me to see his creation in Greece starting next week. I will be taking a tour of the Eastern coastline of Greece, including another visit to Istanbul, with a group from the church I attend. It promises to be a

This one may seem like a rant (anything that starts with "I hate" is at least at that level). I am not talking about the little rubbery covers on soda cans. I am talking about cozy mysteries. This is not a new feeling for me, but it intensified this week for a purely illogical and unconnected reason. I am in a writing group with eight other people. We meet every two weeks, or actually twice a month, and at this point everyone is writing fiction, usually novels but sometimes

The house I bought in 2021, while I was separated from my husband, is very much the kind of house I always wanted, with some exceptions. The kitchen is a bit cramped and the back deck is not covered or screened in, but these are minor inconveniences. What I do like is that the central point is the spacious and welcoming dining room, and that the house can be divided into four parts and even separated by doors, or five if the deck is counted. These four are the bedrooms/bathro

The recent news--or should I say, the recent news we are allowed to know about or are fed through our algorithms because they pluck the strings of our appetites--seems to be about suicides. Jason Arday committed suicide after much of his fraudulent, or autism-induced behavior, was exposed and he was discharged from Cambridge. Very perplexing all around. Hayden Panettiere, a young actress, was found deceased in her apartment. She had lived a successful (as an actress) and dee

For several years I have heard, and used, the quotation, “The past is a foreign country. They do things differently there.” For the longest time I thought William Faulkner said it. He said something else about the past. The past is never dead. It's not even past. All of us labor in webs spun long before we were born, webs of heredity and environment, of desire and consequence. And to prove we can easily get quotations and their attributions wrong, I thought that was “In the S

It is late July in Northwestern Georgia. The forecast today is for a high of 94 degrees. I have walked my dog already by 9:15, so that he and I can avoid the panting and the perspiration that yesterday sucked us dry of energy. I sit inside with two fans and some indirect air conditioning on me, with no plans to go outside for more than a couple of minutes today. Tomorrow should be better. August is always a little better with the heat here, with shorter days of sunlight and l

I do not consider the poem above to be anti-semitic or anti-Israel. Palestine needs prayer, as does Israel. There may be some hidden meaning here that I am missing, though. The image of a dog may call up the words of Jesus about dogs by the master's table and the response from the non-Jewish woman that even dogs get the scraps. The encounter seems harsh, but I believe it is to be interpreted as a test that a Gentile was coming to him with a request and to see her response. He

For my current devotional reading, I am studying The New Testament and Its World by N.T. Wright and Michael F. Bird. It is a thick, textbook-like tome, and their interpretation of Jesus in his world is meant to bend evangelical world views and smugness, I think, that we know everything about Jesus we need to. He (I assume this is Wright because of the style) closes this chapter (11, "The Death of the Messiah," p. 261) this way: Granted all this, it is worth highlighting how

“If you’re tired of narratives that paint Appalachians as helpless, backward caricatures. . . “, This phrase, from an anonymous Amazon review of bell hooks’ poetry collection, Appalachian Elegy, captures part of the reason I write about Appalachia. Thank you for reading The Foark River Salon and Bait Shop. It may not strike you as an Appalachian novel because it does not come anywhere near some of the standard themes and tropes that Appalachian novels are traditionally expect

April is Poetry Month. Every month is some month. Half-way into May, I'll keep celebrating April.

I read Joel Miller's Substack (not sure how I got started) because he does thoughtful book reviews. Here is one worth reading: https://www.millersbookreview.com/p/no-books-are-not-remotely-too-expensive?utm_source=post-email-title&publication_id=564548&post_id=194518187&utm_campaign=email-post-title&isFreemail=true&r=2pwl1&triedRedirect=true&utm_medium=email If you can't get to it, essentially he defends the costs of new books (especially in retail stores) because they have s

I feel as if I have been in a funk recently. For one, I've been suffering, off and on, from sinusitis and pink eye, of all things, for over a week and am beginning to feel some relief from antibiotics I got too late in the game, as usual. My husband , of course, caught it from me, so I've been dealing with his as well. Nothing can make you feel funkish like conjunctivitis, which I have not had since my son was a toddler and I worked in the church nursery. To someone who spend

This poem, Eve, is subversive. Humans feel that disobedience is resistance is fearlessness of oppression. I included this one because it is sad, not a celebration. I doubt Eve ever felt that way, and the feeling is short-lived.

CC licensedOut back, Edna poem] for Edna St. Vincent Millay born on this day, 1892 Out back, Ednahangs pillowcases, fresh as a line of sonnets. Her rogue image candid in a nightie and tramp-coat, displays robust charm matching her savage beauty. We chat over wet laundry ― I trust her with my tough secrets, my edged tools. It's easy like having another drink when you know you’ve had enough. She tosses words like clothespins, exhales slow, stamps a cigarette in the

I am going to start another series called "Serious Reading." These will include thoughts on reading, especially in the online world. I know that the Internet has diminished my reading because I do so much of it on screens rather than on the much-preferred (for understanding and memory) paper medium. I need to get back to more "book" reading v. iPad or Kindle or computer reading. I know better. The real point of Serious Reading will be to read serious and difficult books, and

These are short but, I think, masterful in their own way, especially the last. ‘ O look, look in the mirror, O look in your distress: Life remains a blessing Although you cannot bless. ‘O stand, stand at the window As the tears scald and start; You shall love your crooked neighbour With your crooked heart.’ —W. H. Auden A (sort of) Christmas Poem six weeks late. But it's by Wendell Berry, and I think I like his poetry better than his fiction. This one is "Sabbaths." Remember

As an experiment with Open AI Art, I tried to create a cover design for my next novel, whose working title is The Foark River Hair and Tanning Salon and Bait Shop . The final one may be truncated from that. It is based on a play I wrote, which was a comedy, but the whole vibe is quite different. I used the AI app the first time to create a rather bland convenience store look. I would not use it, of course, and as I hope to have this published by someone else, that will be t