nostalgicAlabama Bound went well. I read a very short bit from Chapter Three of Low Red Moon, Narcissa as a child, killing dogs and whatnot. Though I'd tried hard to find one of the less disturbing passages in the novel, the expressions on many of the faces in the audience left me with the impression that it wasn't exactly the sort of thing they'd come expecting to hear. No one walked out, but there were some distinctly furrowed eyebrows. I signed some books. I met a few other local authors. And I finally met Franklin Harris, whom I've known since about 1998, but had never met face-to-face.
Anyway, tomorrow it's back to Atlanta and the Real World. In the Real World, there are far fewer ceramic turkeys, I don't own a two-car garage or a schnoodle, and there are more condiments in the fridge than anything else. See you then...