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When I was in junior high school, I joined the debate team. I still don’t know why. I was awkward. I didn’t know how to speak up for myself at thirteen, especially when it meant arguing a point.

What I remember about being dropped off at the library for hours and hours of research was the team’s collective interest in two people. A couple. Who were dating. We followed them all over the hidden corners of the library, trying to catch them in various states of making out. Rather than report findings on our next great point for argument, we whispered about whether they kissed with tongue and whether we could see their hands and what they must be doing RIGHT NOW.Continue Reading

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Dad is SUPPOSED to be working for me. He’s here for dual events to benefit Friends of the Library: a book sale at the Charleston Farmers Market yesterday, and an author appearance at the Charleston County Library’s Main Branch on Tuesday, June 24 at 6pm.

While he should have been handing out book cards and chatting people up yesterday, here’s what he was apparently doing instead.

A one-sided exchange with my mother. In his own (very cootie-fied) words.Continue Reading

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Several years ago, I attended a writing conference in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. I don’t remember much about anyone I met that day. If you’ve been to a writing conference, you understand that, on some level, they’re Beauty Pageants of Words. One spends insane amounts of time wondering whether her metaphorical butt is dangling from the back of her bathing suit during the critique session, I mean, swimsuit competition. She knows her cleavage doesn’t match the next gal’s. Will she fall down the stairs in her stilettos because she can’t look straight ahead and walk at the same time?
Still, I remember author Hank Phillippi Ryan.Continue Reading