I am two months out from my book launching into the world. Sure, my butt has been clenched since the summer, but a new inconvenience has reared its ugly head. The whispers. I hear them all the time: You are an idiot for thinking people will care about this book. No wonder you are nervous. You should be. Everyone is going to know your business and think you are weak.
In the final days of my senior year, I asked all of my friends to write down one word that described me in my yearbook. Instead of a long soliloquy of how we had such a great time learning life lessons in the classrooms of Hallsville High School, I wanted to know how these important people of my youth would remember me. How did I make an impact in their
My niece recently tested my patience. I had to both hold my tongue and resist the temptation to hide in a closet because she kept asking one little question over and over and over again: Why? Y’all, I thought I was going to lose it. Why is the sky blue? Why won’t my baby doll blink her eyes? Why are we having lasagna for dinner? Why can’t I watch Sponge Bob?