I’ve been fond of a smooth braid since I wore them growing up. Cynthia Leitich Smith created just that kind of braid with three plotlines threaded smoothly through to a delightful conclusion in her new book, On a Wing and a Tear.

At 6:53 on November 5, 2024, Allen and I took our place as number 11 and 12 in the line awaiting the opening of our Lamar County polling place. By the seven o’clock opening, the line had doubled. It would triple by the time we cast our votes.

When one of your very favorite YA fiction authors (Ruta Sepetys) joins one of your very favorite YA nonfiction authors (Steve Sheinken) to write a book together, there is just one possibility for what to do. I requested the advance copy from Net Galley and began what promised to be a good read.

I would find it hard to decide if I love most the music of the poetry or the life-depicting meaning of the Teacher in the third chapter of Ecclesiastes with its traditional pairings. I am not alone. Some of my readers will go back far enough to remember Pete Seeger’s classic song “Turn, Turn, Turn” with probably the most famous recording by The Byrds.

If you live in South Mississippi, you may have to squint to see it, but September brings hints of fall.

Both of my fans have asked what happened to my blog. The short answer is life. With its twists and turns, the blog has had to take a breather. Today seemed a good day to return since it is a Saturday as Saturdays were meant to be.

Before there was binge TV watching, there was binge reading. Since I have started a new binge set, I’ve been thinking about some binge reading from my past.

Normally, I do not look for books with more than one author, but Break to You publicity had an intriguing topic for me – two teens in juvenile detention. Break to You has three authors: Neal Shusterman, Debra Young, and Michelle Knowlden. As a writer, I can’t figure out how you even write with one other person, much less two, but these three have figured it out.

Just when you were sure Romeo and Juliet died tragic deaths because of love, here comes their daughter Rosaline Montague to straighten out the story in A Fair Daughter of Verona by Christina Dodd.

Okay, so I borrowed the title of this blog from the current issue of Thema. There is a reason for that. More than a year ago I saw the invitation on the Thema website to write with this theme. Probably a year before that I had written a poem triggered by seeing the wood violets blooming beneath the trees in my yard.

I became intrigued with John Cochran’s account in Writer’s Digest in the “Breaking In” column with his move from journalism to writing a novel for middle graders and requested an Advance Reading Copy of Breaking Into Sunlight from Net Galley. Two things that he noted struck a chord with me.

I saw the notice that today was National Sewing Machine Day – an appliance that has always been dear to my heart. Google says that June 13th honors the invention of the sewing machine and the people who have improved it over the years.

Sometimes a reader has trouble figuring out when a writer is telling the truth and when she (or he) is making things up. I thought I would help you with that by labelling what I am and am not making up.

In The Last Twelve Miles that goes on sale today, Erika Robuck begins with the true story of two women on opposite sides of the Prohibition Rum Wars in the early twentieth century and weaves a compelling novel around them.

In a hot, un-airconditioned, lovely brick building, sixty-six years ago today, Furrs Baptist Church in Pontotoc County, Mississippi was filled to capacity for a special event. The church pianist was marrying the pastor’s oldest daughter.

All right, I don’t normally put that first adjective in front of snake, but this was an exception. I was walking along, taking care of business, headed to the mailbox to see what kind of junk mail we got today. I was paying so little attention that I almost stepped on her (or him – didn’t cozy up close enough to tell).

One of my favorite kinds of books is fiction based on facts or a real happening. Sasha Vasilyuk, in her debut novel, includes both a real happening that led her to discover facts to flesh out her work of fiction.

Blossoming of my blue hydrangeas this spring triggered a trip down Memory Lane. When I was ten years old, we lived catty-cornered across from Mrs. Birdie and Mr. Amos, an old grandparent couple (probably in their fifties). A green lawn spread in front of their white Mississippi home, complete with front porch and rocking chairs.

I could name a number of good mothers here, as I have in the past. My own family is full of them as I think of my mother and mother-in-law who were the subject of another blog, my three sisters, along with my daughter and daughters-in-law who have done a fine job with my grandchildren. There are also those who choose a mother responsibility.

It couldn’t have looked that promising on May 1, 1937. Even their first meeting brought mixed reactions. Appropriately, that meeting was at Virginia’s home church. Berton returned to lunch with the “cousins” he was visiting – actually the family of his mother’s first husband with whom she remained close even after he died. He told them he had met the woman he would marry. She gave a different report at her family dinner table saying she had met the ugliest man she had ever seen.