The Next Project

I set out to finish the book I had started 11 years ago, but I never expected to also start my own publishing company. Nothing was easy, but it was definitely worth the effort. I committed to writing this book on January 1st, and finally have it in my hands on December 2nd. Every weekend has been devoted to this book and starting the publishing company. It feels amazing to know I have all the tools I need to do it all over again. The next project is the audiobook for Southbound as Told by Number 2, accompanied by an original soundtrack.

Wild Apples

There’s an apple tree in my parents’ yard, planted by my Pappy, leaning forward to catch a slice of sunlight. Each spring, it bears small apples that my mother transforms into her famous apple butter, evoking cherished memories of my grandparents. As I explore the world of wild apples, I feel a kinship with their tenacity and uniqueness. From gathering fallen apples for batting practice with my sister to launching my own multimedia publishing company, Wild Apple Press, I embrace the spirit of the wild apple—an emblem of independence and creativity. Join me on this journey of growth and discovery.

My Wild

Feels like all I’ve been doing is sitting around paying bills and taking a local walk or hike here and there. I love a good campfire, but I’ve had too many inside a fenced-in area. I’m tired of sitting around daydreaming about adventures. At this point, I think I need a break. Walk away from the stress of discontent, put the phone down, get up from the computer, leave the mail, and take the dog. Pack some beans and a pot, bring a little bread, tie my bandana around my neck, and button up my jacket. A good book and my guitar provide endless inspiration. It’s simple and hard, scary and fun, certain and uncertain, lonely and free…it’s everything I need.

Surrounded by My Ghosts and Angels

My Great Aunt Doris was a fabulous writer. She wrote a book titled Of Ghosts and Angels: A Memoir by Doris Cheney Whitehouse, and she was, in fact, related to the Cheneys. I remember her from when I was around five or six years old. We visited Pappy and Memaw, my mother’s parents, and gathered in the living room to hear the old folks tell their stories.

Aunt Doris was married to Memaw’s eldest brother, Forrest. Yes, Forrest and Doris. I was utterly drawn to her. She would effortlessly conjure up playful and slightly irreverent tales, and I would drape all over her with wonder and love. She could calm me down with the slightest touch and redirect my attention with her smile, movement, or words. What struck me the most was that I could feel her belief in me. She made me believe I was extra special – dare I say magical.

Last Night’s Dream

Last night’s dream woke me up in the wee hours of the morning. In my dream, I was standing on the front porch of my parents’ house looking out into the front yard watching a crew of people digging up old family heirlooms that belonged to my Pappy. We had his tackle box and a toolbox. Someone decided it was ok to bring the dirt-covered items inside the house making a total mess on the floor. That was my first red flag; I knew my mother would not be pleased with that decision.

Studying the Encounter

I do not own a fancy camera, but I would love to have one someday—something lightning-fast to capture these small birds and lizards candidly, showing their sincere expressions. I know they saw me and went on the defense; I don’t blame them. I don’t like having my picture taken, either. I get all awkward and […]