A few people have asked me when am I going to write another book. There is no easy answer. I simply have not considered that. Well, actually I have. However, several people in my life need to achieve room temperature before I can start on my next draft.
My dear Aunt Kat was very clear that I should never speak ill of those around me. My Aunty was quick to amend that with an irreverent, "Unless they cannot hear you." My pious Aunt J'Nelle would have told me it really did not matter because no one was going to read it any way.
I guess there was something to be said about having a little ol' blog that hardly anyone read. It was just my way of crying in the wilderness. It didn't matter what I said or who I talked about, the chances were slim or none they were going to read about it. After all my Mama was scared silly of the "Internets". And the other characters I spoke of in such an irreverent tone were either dead or had no idea what a Blog was.
These days I am stopped in the grocery store, at dinner, at funerals, at the beach, and in the road with well meaning fans who are quick to comment about something I wrote that they found funny. Or something I mentioned that they could relate to. This was all well and good until a certain several folks commented about how much they enjoyed reading the Blog. Little did they know that some of the stories were thinly veiled references to them.
It was very fortuitous that they let me know they were readers because, well let's just say they may not have been cotton to find themselves front and center in one of my posts. But truth be told, I can't help what people do. Some folks just don't have a sense of humor when their indiscretions are shared. But I digress.
So now I am awaiting the timely demise of some characters in my life before I can proceed with any more epistles. Someone once said that us southerners don't hide our family secrets. I totally agree, we open the closets and watch the skeletons dance. But everyone has that family member who is crazier than a ding bat, that neighbor who is two bricks shy of a load, or knows that lady at church who would drive a Baptist minister to drink hard liquor in public, in front of God and everyone.
These folks are so unique, so over the top, that there is no way to tell their story, to refer to their issues, or even mention them by some other name without Hell and half of Georgia (or at least everyone in town) knowing exactly who you are referring to. But I'm taking notes in the mean time.
After all, Mrs. Hewett, my Girl Scout leader, always told me to be prepared.