My soon-to-release novel, When Silence Sings, is set in part in Thurmond, WV. While there’s plenty to make this southern WV town interesting, one of the main things is that in the early 1900s it was a rich boom town. Today, it’s essentially a ghost town owned largely by the National Park Service. Of course, the thing that’s nifty about […]
It definitely feels like summer today in the mountains of Western NC. But even as I sweat, I’m noticing signs pointing toward a rough winter. Last week I saw my first wooly worm. All black. This morning I saw another just the same. Acorns are already falling and the walnuts are abundant this year as well. Add to that the […]
My next full-length novel will release on November 5–less than two months away now. I’m excited to introduce readers to the Harpes and McLeans–feuding families in southern West Virginia. I found it oddly refreshing to write a character who’s . . . well . . . a little bit terrible. Inventing Serepta McLean was the most fun I’ve had writing […]
When my brothers and I were little we had a “play-house” inside a HUGE rotted out stump. The tree had fallen long ago, but the shell of the stump remained and it was big enough for all three of us to get inside. It was cool and mossy and taller than I was. The stump was in the woods below […]
I’m always delighted when I’m asked to do a book event. But it doesn’t get much better than being contacted by the library I loved as a kid to come speak. Which is what happened to me this past week! The Upshur County Public Library contacted me to say they’re focusing on hosting more WV authors and would I be […]
If you’ve followed my blog very long, you’ve probably seen mention of the fact that I grew up on a farm that’s been in my family for seven generations. It’s a big part of why I write about Appalachia and have such strong nostalgia for the past. Today I thought I’d share a new poem reflecting on a piece of that history . . . SEVENTH GENERATION How many greats does it take to reach back into the days when a cousin named Electa rode a broke down old horse four days across the mountains to find her wounded brother? A great plan indeed. The bullet broke the bone and lodged there. He ought not to have lived, but he said no Rebel bullet would kill him. So, instead of dying, he sang songs. Surely there was a rock of ages and a sweet hour of prayer, blessed assurance and great is thy faithfulness. Electa found him. Nursed him and brought him back a way that seemed familiar now. Today, paved roads hide that trail. Houses and cars a great washing up of flotsam in the wake of the past. Standing here, on land that’s been passed down and down and down, it’s easy to count back from seven. It’s easy to imagine that I, too, might manage something great.
I’m so excited! I’ve had the opportunity to teach classes at several regional writing conferences and book festivals (this past weekend I taught at a Pennwriters event in Leesburg, Va.). I really enjoy sharing the tips and tricks I’ve learned and hearing from writers at all different stages of the process. I’m always excited about leading a class. But I’m […]
