The first day of autumn. The first day of change, transformation, thanksgiving. Ready-or-not, the cool frost settles on the browning corn, the golden soybeans, the rooftops of silos waiting to be filled.
I don’t think fall signals the end of a season near as much as the beginning, the shorn fields laid bare, the broken stalks pointing heavenward, the earth turned over once more to wait, steadfast, for spring.
“What was wrong with that man? Why didn’t he do something?”
The women around the table raised their hands and slapped the table with disgust as they complained about the man named Vaughn Harlan.
Who could blame them? He was, after all, an enabler of the behavior which resulted in the unexpected, violent start to my novel, HOW SWEET THE SOUND.
I laughed as the members of the book club went on…
Click here to read the rest of this new article over at Fresh Fiction, and leave a comment for your chance to win a copy of my novel AND some Southern pecans! Yummers!