November 2008

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

You won't believe how the folks at Southern Living heard about me. Apparently, the editor of the magazine's Georgia Living section happened upon one of my postcards at a welcome center in Macon, Georgia, or on Interstate 20 near the Alabama line. He can't remember which. The odd thing is this: I have never put postcards in any such place.

So to the unknown person out there who engaged in this act of guerrilla marketing on my behalf, I say THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU. And I'd love to know who you are.

My trip to New York went well. My publisher plans to send me on a four- to six-week book tour of the Southeast. It will be called The Southern Tour. I cannot wait to meet some of you on my journey. That will be the best part.


One of the photo shoots for Southern Living magazine, October 2008

October 2008

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

Let's bring on the bear with a story from a reader.

Scatter Me Next To Mama
By Syndee Reardon
Savannah, GA

Grandma was as mean as a rattlesnake and she scared me to death. She lived two blocks down the road from us but I only saw her a total of ten times during my whole lifetime. She was old from the beginning. The day I was born in 1958, Grandma was already 73. She lived to be 98 years old and Daddy says she was healthy until the end. I wondered what healthy meant to Daddy. Grandma was blind in one eye. She had severe osteoporosis that left her with a dowager's hump the size of Quasimodo's on her back and she was toothless. I guess healthy meant she was still breathing.

Grandma had given birth to seven children but only five survived. Grandma blamed the death of her two toddlers on a broken window that my Grandpa's lazy ass never repaired. She said the cold winter air blew right through that window into the lungs of those babies creating a deadly pneumonia that killed them in five days flat. Grandpa got blamed for most anything that went wrong in the family and everything imaginable went wrong in the family.

There were 3 boys and 2 girls all born two years apart and they all hated each other with a passion. They grew up in Savannah on Macon Street and were born and bred to despise their siblings. My daddy hated his brother and his brother hated his sister and so it goes right on down the line. I remember thinking that with a family like this who needs enemies. We had a truckload of them all with the same last name.

Grandma died in 1984 and she was buried up in Sylvania next to Grandpa who had luckily died thirty years before her. There were three other burial plots next to them and their children fought tooth and nail over who was to be buried next to Mom and Pop. My two aunts argued the most over the burial plots. The three boys only argued over the plots when they were drunk and that in itself is another story. My Aunt Margaret would say to my Aunt Barbara, "You'll be buried next to Mama over my dead body."

It worked out just that way.

Aunt Margaret died first and was buried next to Grandma while Aunt Barbara was planted at the head of Aunt Margaret's gravestone in a vase since she had been cremated. The three remaining sons decided not to speak to each other for the rest of their lives but when two of the brothers died they had requested in their will to be cremated and to have their ashes scattered
"next to Mama." Neither one of Grandma's sons had spoken to her in the last twenty years but their final request was to be "scattered next to Mama."

Today one son remains and I'm sure his final request will be "scatter me next to Mama." It's a family tradition.

This may sound strange, but I just love all the hatefulness in her family. It's a refreshing and honest depiction rather than the sugary confections we typically read about families. Good job, Syndee!

Lots of exciting news to share with you:

Last month I went back to high school--with a writer from Southern Living in tow--to visit Donna Havrilla, my all-time favorite teacher.  What a joy to see her after twenty-two years. She is as luminous as ever and just as passionate about teaching literature. She lit a fire in me that blazes still. Here’s to the Mrs. Havrillas of the world! Consider raising a glass tonight to a teacher who has meant the world to you.

Now, let me tell you about Nancy, the fine lady from Southern Living. Well, she is simply fabulous—a definite Queen. She understood this CQ business immediately and was great fun to be around. Mama liked her, too, and if Mama likes you, YOU ARE IN. The article will appear next year. I’ll keep you posted.

My schedule over the next three weeks is buck wild. A few highlights include:

-a photo shoot for Southern Living
-a business trip to New York to go over book plans
-a good bit of final work on the manuscript
-an appearance at a conference in Athens, GA

I will have stories and photos of those adventures to share with you soon. In the meantime, laugh hard and keep your fires blazing.


We have us a book cover design!


I am gazing adoringly at Mrs. Havrilla, my high school literature teacher. A writer from Southern Living interviewed us about my high school years.

September 2008

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

My revised manuscript is due in one week and just look at what I've been through these last five days:

-Severe carpal tunnel flare-up
-Cortisone Shot From Hell
-Meltdown of computer hard drive (total loss of all documents)
-Retyping of fifty-eight manuscript pages that were not backed up
-Had MRI on bum knee
-Meltdown of computer in my car

So what are the chances that both the computer in one's home AND one's car would die in the same day?

But guess what--I still feel like the luckiest ol' Queen around because my book is getting better and better in these final days and closer to making its debut.

By the way, I'll begin to update and expand this site more frequently this fall, so do check back more often.  


That's a starstruck me standing next to the Legendary Rosemary Daniell. She's an exceptional author and an inspiration. I was attending one of her fabulous Zona Rosa writing workshops.

Dear comrades, as I have often said, we are in this together. I'd love to hear your thoughts and stories, so do keep sending them in. Here's one I just received from Mary-Elaine Jenkins. I met her at my last reading in Savannah.

In September of 2006, I began my first semester at The George Washington University in Washington, DC. Originally from Hilton Head, South Carolina, this was a change. I love Dixie and my Faulkner-esque roots, but I was ready to get the hell out of Dodge and broaden my horizons. When I told folks back home about my upcoming transition, they'd always have some pearl of wisdom for me about big city livin': watch your purse, don't ask strange men to hold your drink while you're in the bathroom, etc. My favorite was "You know, it's cold there." "Really?" I'd indulge, "DC? Colder than coastal South Carolina? Thanks for the tip!" Conversely, my new Yankee friends were surprised when they found out I wasn't a Republican who spoke in tongues and talked like a NASCAR driver. Although, when I asked what "club clothes" were, my roommate responded with a cocked head and a sympathetic "awww!"

"Clubbing," in urbanite culture, refers to a ritual where girls line up and compete, by showing lots of T and A, to get past heavily muscled men with walkie talkies and power complexes. Once inside the establishment, the girls huddle together, moving to frantic music, then proceed to get felt up by Lebanese businessmen and Abercrombie-clad frat boys in exchange for drinks. I was used to bars where the chairs and tables were nailed to the ground. Nonetheless, clubbing was worth a try.

We chose "Platinum," which had two levels and girls that danced in cages. Classiness defined. Having done a little "pre-gaming" back at the dorm and made it past the biceps, I was ready for the ritual to begin. Then, out of nowhere, something hard and rigid landed on my skull. A beer bottle. Here I was, removed from Dixie, in the heartbeat of the Free World, with a laceration on my forehead from a wayward beer bottle. My companions offered to take me home. "Hee-eel no!" was my response. Cracker Queens run toward flying bottles, not away from them. So I did what any respectable CQ would do. I snatched up a Marine and danced until the blisters on my heels hurt more than my head-wound.

Still, I was confused. Was this a sign? Were the cracker gods trying to communicate with me? I had to reconcile my background with my new surroundings. Now, instead of hitting Platinum, my bohemian pals and I gather in my place, in an area my mother dubbed the "Turkish Opium Den" due to the red curtains and white lights. We listen to Janis or Willie, drink Southern Comfort or cheap wine from Trader Joe's, and trade stories. Their backgrounds and perspectives are manifold and colorful. My honkie-flavored tales are always a hit. Clubbing may not be my scene, but a CQ never turns down an experience; and as a constant reminder, on the wall next to a photo of St. Tommy Lee Jones, is my personally autographed CQ poster.

July 2008

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

Toil--
Solitude--
Prayer.
-Paganini's formula for creativity

I submitted the book manuscript to my editor on June 15! Paganini's words best describe what it took to get to this point. As I hit the "send" button, I felt 1,000 tons lift from my shoulders. But then I had this odd mingling of emotions: sadness at letting it go, elation over letting it go, and a generalized melancholy. This state lasted a few hours before being replaced with a feeling of blessed, and I do mean blessed, relief.

Talk about highs and lows: in the ten days leading up to my deadline, my aunt died unexpectedly and a writer from Southern Living Magazine called to say she'd like to do an article about me. Wonderfully strange days indeed.

I’ll meet the writer in my hometown of Warner Robins, Georgia, in September and we'll visit old stompin' grounds. From there we'll drive to Dublin, Georgia, to spend a little time with Mama. The article will run next year. I'll keep you posted.

My great new editor, Lauren Marino, is reading the manuscript now. I'll spend the next two months revising. I'm looking forward to working with Lauren and making a helluva book for you. I'm not worried about it either, because I can honestly say that I've spent the last sixteen months giving it every ounce I had--toiling, making much time for solitude, and praying. It has been grand.











Heady days: that’s me in the middle! I was preparing for the photo shoot for my book jacket photo. Hair and makeup artists can work some serious magic. My fake eyelashes were so long that I feared I'd take flight if I blinked. Also, my lips were so glossed and gooped up that a bug flew onto my top lip and got stuck there. The photographer had to remove the poor motionless creature before we could proceed.

To the left is the incomparable photographer Judith Ann. At right is Dee The Makeup Artist—as you can see, that woman knows her business.

May 2008

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

As I work to finish the memoir, I keep thinking of stories I wish I could include. Stories such as:

The night I had dinner in Amsterdam with the Former Head Witch of the Netherlands. The famous Anton LaVey, founder and leader of the Church of Satan, hand-picked her for that position. She described the Satanic Mass in riveting detail, but the best part came when she started naming celebrities and musicians who secretly belonged to the church. TASTY STUFF--almost as good as the Guinness on the table.

For every story like that I have five more, but for various reasons they just don't belong in the memoir. Hmmm...I'm smelling a sequel in the works...

In other news, I did a CQ comedy gig last week in Moultrie, Georgia. The hospital there held a banquet to honor the nurses in the county, including Miss Nadine, who at 98 is the oldest nurse around.  

It was a fantastic event, and I was glad to be a part of it. Mama tagged along and almost stole the show right out from under me! Many thanks to Queen Terry Jackson for the invitation.

After the show, a number of nurses shared their CQ experiences with me. Some tales were so deliciously Crackery that they whispered them in my ear to avoid a scandal. Dear Reader, it doesn't get any better than that.


With Terry Jackson, the whup-ass woman who invited me to do the gig


Late-March 2008

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

If it has testicles or tires, it's gonna give you trouble. -saying posted on Mama's fridge

I just returned from a long weekend in beautifully funky, alcoholically haunted Savannah. It was good to see old friends and consume my two favorite foods (salt and grease) at Ben's Neighborhood Grill.

A highlight of the trip was a private tour of the newly-restored Flannery O'Connor Childhood Home. It was exciting to see the new Bruckheimer Library and the acquisitions they've made. The CQ debuted in Flannery's parlor, so the place is forever dear to me. I plan to return later this year to read from the book.

After the tour some comrades joined me at Pinkie Masters, the best dive bar on the planet, to slurp down a few tall Pabst Blue Ribbons.

Without a doubt the most unusual thing I acquired during the trip was a clear vial containing the glittery "cremains" of a friend of a friend. The departed was a seriously fun lady who arranged for her ashes to be mixed with glitter. You know I love that. Anyhow, I am in possession of said vial because my friend wants help in coming up with a fitting way to set them free. Let me know if you have any ideas. In the meantime it makes for one wicked show and tell.

En route to Savannah I stopped over briefly at Mama's. I went with her to the county dump where a man known as Elmo's Brother works.

"He's one of 18 or 21 in his family. I don't remember which," Mama said. "Hell, I guess you stop countin’ at some point."

The memoir is cookin'. I will tell you all about it once I submit the final manuscript in June. Until then keep reading and telling your own stories. If you don't, who will?


The best dive bar in America


Glittery up to the end


Late-January 2008

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

Creative work always ruins one's nerves for a time.-William Butler Yeats

The deadline for turning in the book manuscript is staring me down, mocking me with maniacal-horror-movie laughter. I'm in full-blown psychobilly mode right about now. Nerves shot completely out...Loving every minute of it.

Each day I rise hours before daylight to write. Then I go to my regular job. The funny thing is: that which is depriving me of sleep is filling me up at the same time. It’s quite thrilling to have to write everyday. That tells me that I'm doing what I'm supposed to do.

On a final note, I was so happy to get such a huge response from my Georgia Public Radio story about the Goat Man. He was a folk legend in the Southeast, and in Georgia especially, for more than fifty years. If you missed it, you can LISTEN HERE. The Goat Man lived as I aspire to live—simply and with imagination. Long live the Goat Man!



Late-November

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

I've been in writing lockdown for weeks. Having a full-time day job means that I have to snatch any free moment to work on the book. I write and revise while at stop lights, during my lunch hour, in the midst of reading other books, even during bubble baths. I keep neon-colored index cards handy in case I get a flash or think of words I love such as "caterwaul" and "cattywampus."

I've always been a slow writer, but this book has forced me to up the amperage. Who knew that pens and printer cartridges could run out of ink so quickly? Pens used to last years!

Don't get me wrong: having a book to write is a beautiful, glorious burden to bear. If only all of our burdens felt so good, we'd be in a perpetual state of Thanksgiving. Come to think of it, that's not a bad place to be.

PS A month ago I recorded four new stories for Georgia Public Radio's Georgia Gazette. Several have aired; let me know what you think of 'em.


Promoting my history book at a fundraiser for Cobb Landmarks & Historical Society in October. That's the fabulous Libby Parks standing next to me; she's one of the trustees of Cobb Landmarks.


Photo from childhood: come on, admit it, doesn’t this make you want to read my book?

October 2007

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

A number of you have asked for more information about me. So here you go:

10 Things You Probably Didn't Know About Me (in no particular order)

1. I have worked as a cocktail waitress, horse photographer's assistant, and Tarot card reader.

2. I come from a long line of women who fought to make a better world.
My Great-Great-Aunt Minnie was a suffragette. One of my most prized possessions is the beaded purse she carried during marches and into jail.

My Great Aunt Martha was equally driven and was president of the Hartford, Connecticut, school board for several terms.

My Aunt Ellie was at the March on Washington and has devoted herself to various social causes. Now in her 80s, she continues her longtime volunteer work as associate pastor of the Washington, DC, city jail.

3. I am obsessed with drugstore lunch counters and old radios, especially shortwave models with illuminated dials.

4. I'm an unhealthy vegetarian.

5. I know how to handle and shoot a gun.

6. When visiting a new town, I like to see the cemeteries first.

7. Like most Southerners, I like anything in ruins--from houses and outbuildings to kudzu-covered cars.

8. I loathe cell phones.

9. Yeats, Blake, and Tolstoy are my literary gods.

10. I'm scared of tornadoes and automatic car washes.

July 2007

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

The latest trip to New York was thrilling beyond words. Some of you have wondered what was going through my mind during this whirlwind visit. Here it is: "Oh my God, I am actually in New York to meet my agent and editor because I actually HAVE an agent and editor AND A FRIGGIN' BOOK DEAL!"

I stayed fairly calm until we got to the publishing house and I saw the penguin on the wall--the Penguin Books logo, I mean. You know it: the famous penguin inside an orange oval. My knees went all weak and wobbly, but I pulled it together just in time and didn't mess the crease in my seersucker trousers.

Several folks have asked recently for advice on writing. The most important thing for me has been to have a space away from everything else, the room of one's own that Virginia Woolf describes. Having such a space will do wonders, even if you’re not a writer. Joseph Campbell explains it perfectly:

This is an absolute necessity for anybody today. You must have a room, or a certain hour or so in a day, where you don't know what was in the newspapers that morning, you don't know who your friends are, you don't know what you owe anybody...This is a place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be. This is a place of creative incubation. At first you may find that nothing happens there. But if you have a sacred place and use it, something eventually will happen.

This book that I’m writing has been living in my mind for twenty years. But it couldn't show itself until I made a proper place for it. I invite you to make your own place. You'll be delighted beyond measure at what will turn up.


Doing a little CQ comedy at a local fundraiser on the 4th of July. Mama saw this photo and said, "Boy, it looks like you were laying it on thick."

May 2007

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

I head back to New York next week to meet my agent, editor, and publisher for the first time (woo-hoo!). Check back for photos and news next month. In the meantime, read this fabulous letter I received from Anne Hall of Clarkesville, GA. I’m delighted that she took appropriate CQ action when she saw the prisoners.

Dear Lauretta,

Today I was a Cracker Queen!  On my way to town I saw a prison bus with inmates picking up trash.  One inmate was on break and sitting in the very back of the bus out the back door with a handmade sign that read: "Need Cigs!".  I went on into town and did my errands.  A couple of
hours later as I was returning home, that same prison group was on the other side of the highway still picking up trash.  I drove to the closest convenience store and bought 4 packs of Marlboro.  I drove back and tossed two packs out to the happy surprise of the guys.  I then
turned around to head back home and tossed the other two packs to another gleeful response.  How exciting is that?

My other story is from the laundry mat where I was washing and drying comforters.  Two ladies were there washing a ton of laundry.  When they were almost finished, a man drove up in an old car.  He was wearing overalls with no shirt underneath.  The women were a mother in her late 40's and a daughter in her late 20's.   They had driven a camping van with a trailer attached and parked in longways in front of the laundry mat blocking about five parking spaces.  They were putting bed linens inside the van and tying down large black plastic bags of laundry on to the trailer.  While the mother still worked inside, the daughter was out smoking a cigarette and talking to her father.  All of a sudden she said, "Daddy, Daddy, look what I found!  Isn't that the biggest black widow spider you've ever seen!  I bet it came off this here trailer."
She bends down and spots a small spider egg case.  They both talk about how she has probably already eaten the male spider. "Quick, let's get a stick and turn it over to see the red on her tummy."  She looked over at me and say a large stick next to the bench where I was sitting.  She said, "Are you using that stick?"  Of course, I wasn't.  So she grabbed it and preceded to push the spider over to see its belly.  Her father said, "That spider will sure kill you."  And the next thing he did was stomp it dead on the pavement.  (Bless its heart.)

Just had to share my Cracker Queen experiences with you.

March 2007

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

I GOT A BOOK DEAL. Yep, it has finally happened. I have signed with Gotham Books, a Penguin imprint, to write CRACKER QUEEN: Stories of a Jagged, Joyful Life. It will hit bookshelves in 2009, and I'll spend the next year churning out the stories of my life--and having the time of my life doing it.

I'm elated to be working with Erin Moore, my editor at Gotham. This girl's got it goin' on, you hear me?

A deep-down thank you goes to my agent, Joanne Wyckoff, AKA La Agent Suprema. She "got it" from the moment she heard me on the radio in Boston last spring.

I've just returned from a celebratory weekend in New York City where I raised a glass to all of you out there who have supported the ol' Cracker Queen. Your part in this grand adventure will never be forgotten. Ever.


A late-night out in New York with Ray Lee, one of the cast members of MAMMA MIA!, the Broadway show based on the songs of ABBA. How could I make this up?


Showing my cracker cred: that's me driving the camo-covered golf cart at my sister's hunting lodge down south. Again I ask, how could I make this up?

Late February 2007

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

I am about to have some super exciting news to share with you. I can't talk about it just yet, but check back in mid-March for a sizzlin' hot news flash--and have your case of chilled Pabst Blue Ribbon at the ready!

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

The July 22nd show was a ball. The after-party, however, is still a blur, but I do remember much merriment amidst the bottles of champagne. Happily, the show sold out a week before the performance, so I didn't have my usual nightmares about facing an audience of three: my mother, a stalker from high school, and a homeless man who wanders in.

Camo, champagne, and potato chips: a scene from the After-Party

The folks at the venue were wonderful. Special thanks to Tommy, Terri, and Jan. Thanks also to David and Terry for taping the show and giving up their entire Saturday in the process. Alan and Anne Hall deserve a most spirited thank you.

Showtime, July 2006

I'm now heading back to the cave for a good long while so that I can give my energy and time to the memoir. But first I'll leave you with the best line I've read recently:

"Being a white Southerner is a bit like being Eichmann's daughter: People don't assume you're guilty, but they wonder how you've been affected." (Blanche McCrary Boyd)

July 2006

-Meeting the Head Munchkin

-Latest Story on NPR's All Things Considered

-Talking With an Agent

Dear worshipful fans & comrades,

I had no idea I'd meet a celebrity when I went home to Middle Georgia last weekend. This is how it unfolded...

Mama: Hey Retta, you wanna meet the head munchkin from the Wizard of Oz?

Me: HUH?

Mama: You know, the lead munchkin from the movie. He's at a nursing home here. We can go see 'em if you want to.

So off we went on a crazy-ass search to find the big-time little guy. Turns out that the munchkin is a delightful and gracious gentleman named Karl Slover. He was only two-feet tall when the movie was filmed, and he had four parts. He spun marvelous stories about his Hollywood adventures and his life as a little person. It was great fun to be in his company.

The Cracker Queen meets the Head Munchkin: Karl Slover of Wizard of Oz fame. That's my nephew Dusty at right.

Last month my newest story aired on NPR's All Things Considered. On the surface, the piece is about the brutality of dog fighting, but it's really about what William Butler Yeats spoke of in "The Second Coming:"

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world;
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

My recent story on dog fighting struck a nerve with folks. I received responses from listeners across the country. Thank you to everyone who took the time to write.

In other news, a literary agent heard me on NPR and we're now putting a book proposal together. It looks like it will be a childhood memoir--talk about a rollicking, bumpy, zesty, laugh-out-loud ride of a read! The agent tells me that I shouldn't produce a self-published book in the meantime, so I'm sorry to report that I won't have that book available to you as previously reported. I CAN promise you that the memoir will be oh-so-worth the wait.

I'll leave you now. It's time to go burrow in the writing shed. I'll be spending the next two weeks preparing for the show on July 22. I hope you'll join me there.

-NPR Airs New Story

-One-Woman Show to Debut

-CQ Book Available This Summer

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

Lots of things are afoot...National Public Radio aired my new story, Rutabaga Woman, on April 27. I hope you'll listen and let me know your thoughts.

Preparations are heating up for the debut of my one-woman show this summer. Think Steel Magnolias Meets Larry the Cable Guy - that's how the folks at the venue are billing it.

For more information about this performance, please email me or visit their website.

I'm busier than a cat covering shit on a tin roof trying to get my book ready. It will ooze with stories, new and old, told and untold. I'm packing it with photos, jokes, and lots of extras. You're going to love it. I'll "launch" the book at the one-woman show on July 22.

Finally, I have a quote for you from the great Wendell Berry. I think it captures the state of things in the South. "We are a remnant people in a remnant country...We have come, or are coming fast, to the end of what we were given."

Okay, one more thing...Somebody wants to know what's on my bedside reading table, so here's the list:

-The Complete Illuminated Books of William Blake
-Electric Light by Seamus Heaney
-Granta, my favorite magazine of new writing
-You Have Seen Their Faces by Erskine Caldwell & Margaret Bourke-White
-Best American Essays of 2005
-Anna Karenin by Leo Tolstoy
-Losing It All to Sprawl: How Progress Ate My Cracker Landscape by Bill Belleville

March 2006
dear worshipful fans & comrades,

Just returned from Amsterdam where my time was spent doing one of two things.

1. Having a decadent good time
OR
2. Recovering from too much of a good time

Let's see - lots of news to tell you about. "Rutabaga Woman," my latest story for NPR, has been recorded and should air before too long; I'll keep you posted.

Upcoming gig: Join me on Saturday, July 22, 2006, at the Sautee Nacoochee Center in the breathtaking Sautee Nacoochee Valley in the Northeast Georgia mountains. I'll be doing a two-hour show and am counting on CQ fans to be there.

What's ahead: I'm devoting the next three months to producing a book of stories, photos, and CQ miscellany. In a startling nod to commercialism, I'll make it so that you can order the book directly from this site. As if that wasn't bad enough, you'll also see a few other CQ items available for purchase in the coming months. After six years of doing this, my best friend insists that I simply must sell product. Although I've resisted the notion, I have to admit that it would be nice to pay the ol' American Express bill on time.

That's it for now. Until the next time, remember Muriel Rukeyser's glorious words, "The universe is made up of stories, not of atoms."

The Haunted South
I adore taking photos of old, falling-down buildings and have lots of photos like this one. New, pretty things hold no interest for me. Give me a kudzu-engulfed old homeplace like this, and my imagination goes berserk. This is the Old Brantley Place, somewhere in Middle Georgia.



Old Brantley Place, side view of the back portion of the house

Animated audience at the library in Springfield, GA (April 15, 2005) The Cracker Queen makes the front-page news—and this time it’s not for violating her probation!

My readings earlier this year were grand. Thank you to everyone who attended the shows in Springfield and Hinesville, GA. Thanks to Robin Shader and Melissa White for inviting me to their libraries. A special appreciation goes to Kathy Bohannon for her review of the Springfield gig. I must tell you about a woman I met in Springfield. Her name is Annselma LaFavor, and she’s a strong contender for the CQ Hall of Fame. I mean, come on, her name is Annselma AND she’s on Husband Number Eight. She also has some tales to tell. Here are two of my favorites. Until next time, don’t worry if your barn is aflame. It will surely be replaced with something you can’t even imagine right now. After all, this is the promise that keeps a good ol’ Cracker Queen going.

Spring 2005 CQ Gigs: April 15 @ the Springfield Library & April 16 at the Hinesville Library. Both readings will begin at 7pm. “You might be a Cracker Queen if…” Contest Email your best “You might be a CQ if” joke, and I’ll send you an appropriately trashy Cracker Queen prize. Every entrant will receive a gift. See lots of new photos on the Picture Show page.

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

“We are all lying in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars,” said Oscar Wilde. I’ve been stargazing a lot in the last year. Some of the highlights:

I wrote a photo history book of Powder Springs, GA in less than seven weeks

Attended the Yeats Winter School in Sligo, Ireland

After a liter of mulled wine and a few incantations, I nearly fainted at the grave of the master: William Butler Yeats.

Fled from haints at a haunted B&B in Cave Spring, GA

Bought cologne in Cologne, Germany from a gruesomely-tanned woman with body odor worse than my Uncle Buddy when he had that skin condition

Produced a CD of my stories

Had a 12’x12’ writing shack built in the backyard

I’m in the shack now as a heavy rain falls and the fire in the woodstove blazes. There is no electricity in this space—the Cracker Queen’s playhouse. My place to write, read, play flute, and just be. I realized six months ago that I needed a remote room of my own. Virginia Woolf knew what the hell she was talking about. (Note to those of you who pay attention to such things: I left the 12’x20’ shack mentioned elsewhere on this site when we moved to a new house.)

The William Butler Yeats study was an ecstatic few days. We drank liters of mulled wine and listened to his magnificent words. The deeper one goes into Yeats, the greater the delights. He offers everything: love, death, sex, magic and alchemy, politics, philosophy, spirituality, theatre, prophecy. Earlier this year astronomers reported of a dying star whose light outshone the Milky Way’s other half-trillion stars combined. That is Yeats’ place in the galaxy of poets.

During the Yeats study in Ireland, I hooked up with some hilarious women from northern Ireland. Cathleen, at left, and Margaret, at right, helped promote the Cracker Queen by posing with CQ postcards.

After the study I took the train to my great-grandfather’s birthplace near Ballymote. As a young man, he was stuffed in a barrel by the little people and rolled down a hill. I was on a quest to see the hill and the mythic caves of Keash. Tales abound of those of entered the dank, mysterious caves and were never heard from again. Wolves sought shelter there 12,000 years ago. What a thrill to see these things that have been in my mind since I was knee-high to a leprechaun.

During my few hours in Dublin, my main goal was to view the Book of Kells. As it turned out, I lingered in the tourist shops and arrived at Trinity College too late to see them. But I did buy cheap tea towels imprinted with designs from the book. Typical American.

I’m writing all kinds of things—more stories for Georgia Public Radio, perhaps a screenplay, and some scraps on living joyfully in a miserable world (stargazing again from the gutter).

In Cologne, Germany, in front of the famous cathedral: those creepy rays of sunshine remind me of the Jesus picture Granny kept in her living room.

Last year’s gigs at the Clarksville Library and at Savannah’s Flannery O’Connor Home were great fun. Get your taxes done and come see me on April 15 at the Springfield Library and on April 16 at the Hinesville Library.

In the meantime, send me your stories and be one hellraisin’ cracker.

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

The Cracker Queen is hittin' the road again. Here's the scoop on upcoming readings.

March 25, 2004
Clarkesville Public Library
7 pm
Clarkesville, GA
Sponsored by the Habersham County Libraries

Clarkesville is in the North Georgia mountains, so use the reading as an excuse for a road trip or a long weekend in that beautiful part of cracker land.

May 23, 2004
Flannery O'Connor Childhood Home
3 pm
Savannah, GA
Part of the Flannery O'Connor Spring Lecture Series

Savannah is the most fabulously decadent kingdom in Georgia. Join me as we raise all manner of hell in Flannery's house.

November 16, 2003

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

It took a broken big toe to slow me down enough to write this long overdue epistle. Yes, several weeks ago the CQ was bouncing barefoot on a game called the Velcro Wall. The goal of it is to bounce high and hurl oneself onto a sticky wall. Instead it turned into a game of Rush Lola to the ER.

I've had three stories air on Georgia Public Radio since last we met. The first, “You Put a Root on Me,” describes a series of near-death calamities I endured after writing an article criticizing a Savannah politician. Was this voodoo or just Irish Cracker Bad Luck? Decide for yourself at
www.gpb.org/gpr/gazette/shows/index.asp?episid=1004 This story aired on May 16 on the Georgia Gazette program and appears about thirty-five minutes into the hour-long show.

I still can't believe the response I've received from the second story, “Blood Knowledge.” It deals with a mysterious glimmer of understanding I gained while grieving for my father. The Marietta Daily Journal (Marietta, Georgia) ran a printed version of the story in its Father's Day edition.

When I send words out into the ether I wonder if anyone is listening. And so I was thrilled to get many emails from folks who were touched by this story. Let me know what you think. You can hear it at
www.gpb.org/gpr/gazette/shows/index.asp?episid=1029 This one aired on June 13 and appears at the fourteen-minute point in the program.

The third story is entirely different. It is a straightforward profile of a quartet of blue-haired, country mountain musicians known as The Myers Sisters. These CQ grannies rock! Enjoy them at
www.gpb.org/gpr/gazette/?episid=1038 The story appears near the end of the program, at the forty-second minute point, and was broadcast on June 27.


It was a hoot to interview and record the country mountain music of The Myers Sisters.


The CQ meets up with one of her role models: Comedian Brett Butler.

More stories are in the oven, so stay tuned. In the meantime, I leave you whup-ass women (and the men who adore them) with these words from Isadora Duncan, “You were once wild here. Don't let them tame you.”

PS-Thanks to everyone who continues to submit stories to this site. Click here to read a fabulous story about the Weed Lady of Alexandria.


january 16, 2003

dear worshipful fans & comrades,

Good Lord—things at CQ-HQ have been a mess these last months, but as Gilda Radner says, "I can always be distracted by love, but eventually I get horny for my creativity." Here's the latest from the always hoppin' world of the CQ.

The gleaming turquoise and chrome dashboard of the Cracker Queenmobile: a '62 Mercury Comet that will be the official CQ Summer Tour vehicle.

• Preparations are underway for a Cracker Queen Summer Tour in June. I will load up the '62 Mercury Comet and spend a week on the dirt roads and trailer park trails of Georgia, reading my stories to anyone, and I do mean ANYONE, who will listen. Tentative stops include a public library in the mountains, a bookshop in Savannah, a mental institution and a women's prison in middle Georgia (I know what you're thinkin'), a college in Macon, and impromptu sites along the way. Check back here for my tour journal and photos.

• I'm working on some new tales and have started a longer piece (I'm too scared to say the N-word: novel) about my cracker relatives. Let's just say that these folks make Tobacco Road seem like a story of high-achieving, prosperous Southerners. One working title is "Marriage, Sadism, & Breakdown."

• Several folks have asked me to list my favorite authors and poets, so here are some of 'em: William Butler Yeats (he stares at me from a framed photo by the desk), William Blake, Seamus Heaney, Pablo Neruda, Yunus Emre (a thirteenth-century Sufi poet),William Faulkner, and Dylan Thomas.

• Whatever you do, keep sending me your stories. Four of my favorites are posted here. I will add more throughout the year.

• A final admonition: never forget that ours is a vital and vibrant mission. The cosmos smiles when strong, authentic, whup-ass women have a voice. We are in this together.

june 13, 2002

dear worshipful fans & CQ comrades,

As I write this I am preparing to depart for the next stop on the Cracker Queen Global Domination Tour: Amsterdam. Time requires that I share only a few highlights from the fully-lived world of the CQ.

• The Debut of the Cracker Queen in May was a huge honkin' success (see photos on the Picture Show page). More than 100 souls tried to attend my reading at the Flannery O'Connor Childhood Home in Historic Savannah, GA. We admitted 66 folks into a room that officially holds up to 30. Let's just say it's a good thing that I like to perform close to my audience. I hated it that so many people were turned away at the door, but you KNOW that I love telling ya about it.
• Many women in the crowd spoke to me after the show. It warmed my black little heart to hear them say how much they identified with the Cracker Queen. Maybe it was just the Pabst Blue Ribbon (PBR) they were swilling, but in between burps and scratches, I heard what they were saying: strong, beautiful, authentic Southern women need a venue for expression.
• Connect Savannah, the city's alternative newspaper, printed an interview with me a few days before the reading.

-A moment of delicious irony: audience members downing RC Cola and PBR while munching on pork skins (barbecue & regular), moon pies, and boiled peanuts-all in the ever-so-genteel parlor of the Flannery O'Connor Childhood Home.

-We held a hell of a good time with a "You might be a Cracker Queen if…" Contest. The winning entries were:

"You might be a Cracker Queen if you discover your husband's having an affair with the school janitor when you see he's charged the Viagra to your credit card."

"You might be a CQ if you can sell the crumbs from your satin sheets."

"You might be a CQ if your father is featured in the Federal Registry of Child Sex Offenders."

-Some folks have been asking about where they can get copies of my new stories. Just e-mail me here and I'll send you fresh CQ tales from time to time. The stories on this site are a mere sample of a much larger body of work (CQ translation: these stories are only part of the shit-load of writing that I'm doing).

-Thanks to everyone who has submitted stories to me. Please keep it up.

In the meantime, be a good cracker.