Writing Was Not A Childhood Dream Of

I Was On The Verge Of Tears, So I Turned And Ran Past The Trailer And Along The Field Road Until I Was Safely Out Of Their Sight. Then I Ducked Into The Cotton And Waited For Friendly Voices. I Sat On The Hot Ground, Surrounded By Stalks Four Feet Tall, And I Cried, Something I Really Hated To Do.

Mr. Buckley, Let Me Explain It This Way. And I'll Do So Very Carefully & Slowly So That Even You Will Understand It. If I Was The Sheriff, I Would Not Have Arrested Him. If I Was On The Grand Jury, I Would Not Have Indicted Him. If I Was The Judge, I Would Not Try Him. If I Was The D.a., I Would Not Prosecute Him. If I Was On The Trial Jury, I Would Vote To Give Him A Key To The City, A Plaque To Hang On His Wall, & I Would Send Him Home To His Family. And, Mr. Buckley, If My Daughter Is Ever Raped, I Hope I Have The Guts To Do What He Did.

Still, Something About Writing Made Me Spend Large Hours Of My Free Time At My Desk.

The Mother Of A Trophy Wife Is Not Automatically A Trophy Mother-in-law.

Ten Years From Now I Plan To Be Sitting Here, Looking Out Over My Land. I Hope I'll Be Writing Books, But If Not, I'll Be On My Pond Fishing With My Kids. I Feel Like The Luckiest Guy I Know.