River Jordan || Author, Speaker, Radio Personality

We're home again. Or at least back in Nashville. My wonderful friend Dr. Usoh explains to me that home is where you come from no matter where you live. In that sense we've just returned from home at least for me. My Pennsylvania man has more family members now living on the Gulf Coast than I do. Perhaps we are migrating - so that one day home will be, in every sense of the word inTennessee and not the swampy, Gulf Coast of Northern Florida.

I was delighted to be raised in a place that I can only call magical in every sense of the word. Stars and heat lightening. Green phosphorous sparkling in the moonshine on the salty water. Cypress trees in the swamps with night birds calling. Now, up on this hill in Tennessee, we have more coyotes howling, plenty of owls calling, dusty sunsets over the ridge, colder air, four clear seasons. It's a magic of a different kind and all it's own. And every year that we build a fire and burrow in, every year that I emerge from Winter amazed at all the shades of green that Tennessee offers up to me, or wade barefoot on the rocky soil of freezing creeks, it becomes more and more home to me. I go 'home' where Mama is, and return home up on the hill surrounded by trees to work, live, and write as best I see fit and can muster. I love big from up here. I guess that's the main thing and if you can keep loving life and the people that cross your path old and new, then anyplace you hang your hat can be called home with pride. I think one of my main criteria for knowing that I'm in the right spot is being able to hear, "Have agoodun." The interpretation for which is "Have a good day." But this is the land I live in where even the new immigrants of every shade will offer me a smile and say, "Have agoodun." I agree. It's what I aspire to. To not take this life for granted or the minutes that we've been gifted on every living, breathing day.

This past week has been full of travels and people to be thankful for. We've eaten turkey, dressing, pies, and cakes. We've watched football with the brothers and husband has gone fishing with that 'baby boy' just back from Iraq (they came back with grouper galore.) I've seen that son home from Afhanistan and we've gotten hugs and kisses from the baby Adorables. Now it's home to the writing, to radio, and work I love. My cup truely, blessedly runneth over with the blessings of this life. And you dear reader, continue to be one of those great blessings. The words mean nothing without your being a part of my life. I pray that as the week unfolds your cup also is overflowing with all good things. In other words I hope you have a goodun. A good day, a good week, a good life.

Keep reading, keep dreaming, and keep believing!

River Jordan

It's crazy quiet up on this hill in Tennessee today. The kind of quiet that writers search for and rarely find. Husband has gone off to work, my youngest - just back from Iraq - is road tripping to visit friends - and here I am. Left in a bubble of fog staring through it over the bluff as the fire crackles and the dog snores. Yes, finally the waters of life have parted and it's writing time. And I have no small portion of that to do. As Saints In Limbo continues to find it's way into readers hearts (thank you so much for the beautiful emails from readers describing what Saints has meant to you), we move into the season of editing for the new novel due out from Waterbrook in November 2010. (More on that upcoming novel soonest!) But I am so fortunate that a new character has stepped into my soul, just an image of her standing on a hill at dusk and possessing all the strength of my Grandmother. I can see that much in her from my minds eye. And that's a funny thing because as I look out across this bluff this morning, feel this special blanket of quiet enveloping me and encouraging me to hush, be still, and write the words - I am missing my Grandmother. It's Thanksgiving week and husband and I are traveling to North Florida to visit our mothers but it's my old Grandmother that I'm missing most. Well, maybe it's that I'm missing what used to be. Missing a bevy of cousins and the fact that we had to do absolutely nothing for Thanksgiving but get into the car to go to Granny's house. And that once we arrived we'd be in the glorious company of aunts, uncles, cousins, mama's, daddy's - and we could play in the yard until we were called inside to eat. And the bounty would be no small thing I tell you. So as I settle down to write before our Thanksgiving road trip this week but as I do I'm reflecting on Thanksgivings past and this one we are in. I'm thinking it will be mostly a small and quiet affair compared to the days when that little country house of Granny's' was overtaken with souls from across the map that knew only one thing for certain - the way home. Home, the idea and image of home, has changed for most of us over the years. We are scattered like the stars across the globe due to work, professions, relationships, and the mature aspects of our ever increasing responsible lives. But I hope whatever home is for you, the best aspects of all that it means, finds it's way into your hearts this week in a very special way. Wishing you bountiful blessings and much love this Thanksgiving holiday.

Keep reading, keep dreaming, and keep believing!

River Jordan

Today was one of our beautiful fall days in Tennessee that are such a beautiful treat of a blessing. The weather has been as perfect as this cold bloodied girl could ask for this late in November. A few leaves are still clinging to our trees and I am indeed blessed beyond measure as we move toward the national holiday of Thanksgiving.

Mr. Smarty Pants (my adorable to smart for his breeches nephew) is currently running in circles around me telling me that Titan the wonder dog is actually a ferocious beast. Funny I thought he was a worthless love rug. Ummm, think I have the pictures to prove it, too. Well, I guess the running will continue until My sister and Miss Fancy return from the ballet. Glory, glory.

On the book front this week - I thoroughly enjoyed An Evening with an Author and hearing Robert Hicks read from his new novel A Separate Country. I just wrapped up Catherine Coulter's latest addition to her FBI series, Knock Out, a real page turner with a double mystery. I have one chapter left in the strange, original tale of EIGHT, and have begun Robert's new novel set in New Orleans. I'm very excited that my friend Denise Hildreth has a new novel moving towards it's official publication date, that I'll be meeting a whole lot of friends in just a few weeks at the great Pulpwood Queens Girlfriend Getaway Weekend 10th Anniversary, presenting at the Hoover Library Southern Voices Literary Event in February, and then Shellie Rushing Tomlinson and I are planning a wild and wonderful booking it road trip in the Spring. And if you would love to have a girlfriend roadtrip that is focused on fun and reading - you should really not delay in registering and checking out the upcoming Jefferson, Texas event. It's the tenth Anniversary year so it promises to be the biggest, wildest, Kathy Patrick event yet! After all, like most things in life, books go better with friends!

I've taken up my winter position which means I've plunked down in front of the fireplace. I may not move until Spring green appears on the branches. One reason being that mountain man husband thinks that the thermostat is an evil thing and that all houses can be heated in primitive manner. Okay - this little circle right around where I am sitting can be heated but should I dare to venture into - oh say - those exotic places like the kitchen or the bathroom they are a tad chilly. I like it warm. I like it blue jean, flip flop, t-shirt warm. The kind of warm where I can skip merrily from room to room singing falala just as if it's summer time outside. Now, the only problem with me hitting the thermostat and turning it up to a warm 68 degrees is husband starts gasping and grabbing his throat. I'm not lying. He acts just like that Gollum creature on The Lord of The Rings yelling, It hurts us, it hurts us. I can't help it if he has some weird metabolism of a Raptor and I freeze at 70 degrees in a breeze. The only time I was warm last winter was when he came down with a high fever, had chills so bad our heat was all the way up to 72 degrees and he was still freezing. I was just saying Bless Your Heart honey, the whole time I was skipping through the house in a t-shirt. Fa, la, la.

But - as I sit writing in this little warm square - Thank God for laptops - I really am relishing the pleasure of getting together with known friends and new friends yesterday in Nashville. I am delighted to learn of all the great things happening through Humanities Tennessee with the new Chapter 16 project, and with all the great news of new projects from writers JT Ellison, Susan Greg Gilmore, Darnell Arnoult, agent Greg Daniel, and the creative spirit of Megan Byrd. There will never, ever be a substitute for gathering around a table, breaking bread and sharing stories together.

Nashville, Tennessee has turned into this incredible mecca of writing talent. The longer I live here (7 years now) it's no less amazing to realize how many novelists and non-fiction writers of caliber have found their way to the Athens of the South. The schedule of events happening around the clock in the city for writer/reader things to do that are free and open to the public are mind-boggling. If you are reading this from another city and plan to visit anytime in the next year I suggest that you check out all the local sites and calendars for reader events. The Humanities Tennessee Chapter 16 site is featuring an ongoing calendar of events as well so that would be a great place to start.

Just back in and home again from the postcard snapshot known as the small town of Dahlonega Ga. I had the pleasure of hanging out in the company of some great authors at the Dahlonega Literary Festival but did NOT get to meander around and shop to my hearts content. What a cool, little town for just kicking around. Great restaurants, a winery, live entertainment, and unique stores. Husband and I are always wanting to hang out longer and do more than we have time to do.

Now, trying to settle my heart down and put fingers to the keys in order to employ all the great advice that was given out on those panels including my own. Most of which boils down to - write. Sit down and write. Well, I have a great view from the hill and that's a good place to start. If staring out the window at the season's changing view helps, I've got that. I have old, cat Moses, purring by the laptop where he has been supervising my writing for the last twelve years. (He is very opinionated.) And even Titan the wonder dog lopes upstairs but he just wants to make certain I haven't passed out over the keys. I'm not lacking for characters, or stories. Truth is, I'm overflowing with them.

But instead of writing I wandered around the house and had other things on my mind. I watched the memorial service for the soldiers at Ft. Hood and thought about this week being host to Veterans Day. And I guess there isn't a whole lot I can write or say about that that hasn't already been said or written somewhere better. But I can say that I as a child of a soldier, one who served in Korea and Vietnam, one who served for over twenty years, came home with the silver star and the bronze medal and never spoke about why they were awarded, maybe I can say something.

I know what Veterans day means from the inside looking out. It's not a weird the banks are closed, or the mail won't run kinda day. With two sons home in just these past two weeks from two different war fronts, I understand the sweat and sacrifice, the worry and prayers that go in behind this 'holiday' of ours.

As a daughter and a mother, I've been plugged into this thing we call military in spite of my writerly gypsiness. Here I am surrounded by men of honor and order. Men or service not to just their families or their neighborhoods but to their countries.

A scripture jumped out at me today from an old journal I was thumbing through. One from the book of Joshua that says - "Then the land rested from a time of war." What wonderful words. What a great thought that maybe the land could rest awhile from such. Maybe we could hit the pause button on the madness for a few years or forever. And maybe that's just the writer girl in me with a wild imagination but somewhere, someday, surely Peace will reign.

In the meantime, my heartfelt thanks and prayers to those who serve this country and strive for good.