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Simple Intent, by Linda Sands
A LEGAL THRILLER based on a true story.
Available Sept 1, 2010 wherever e-books are sold.
Category Archives: girls
Only in a restroom in Cusseta, Alabama.
Writers see the world… differently.
It looks kind of like this:
EVERYTHING IS, HAS, WAS, WILL OR CAN BE A STORY.
Just as everyone you meet is a potential character and every conversation you hear may be stored away for later use. Having a writer as a friend can be dangerous, partying with fellow writers fills my well. (Hello Southampton friends!)
It is so nice when people “get you,” when explanations are unnecessary and when you can experience truly witty parlay.
So, it will come as no surprise to my writing friends that I found a story in a…
Because March is Women's History Month…or Life Tips from Thelma and Louise
I should talk about the role of women in history- how we have changed the world both with our own actions and voices and also by our encouragement and support of those weak-kneed bumbling idiots ruled by two heads, yes… men.
I could send you HERE to test your knowledge of the role of women in our history.
or link you to historical books and films that toot the feminine and not so feminine horn of achievement…
or I could just offer this:
13 Life Tips From Thelma and Louise
1. You get what…
Supporting the Arts.
This is my friend Karen with our author pal, Jack Riggs.
not sure why I was looking past, over and above the camera… but I look as happy as I felt for Jack’s success.
Buy his book HERE. The Fireman’s Wife.
No, I wasn’t telling him how to sign the book, I think I was telling him to stay away from frou-frou Fireman type drinks.
We sat in a hot hot hot ( FIRE!) library auditorium and listened to Jack read about Cassie and Peck, and then we went here to cool down…
Sometimes people get it and sometimes…
you just don’t want to go into it any more.
For the rest of you. Here’s a story.
When I was a kid, we used to have a telephone on a long long cord. We would pull it across the hallway from the kitchen to the basement door, where we would sit on the third step down and have private conversations with our boyfriends. Or for my sisters- their friends. My dad tripped over that cord a few times and made it even longer , so that there was enough slack to twist around your finger…
Cleaning out my purse, I found this:
A wadded up bar napkin with this story scratched in black ink:
Once upon a time in a bar far, far away
three young boys struck up their guitars and played.
It was a song about sex, about remorse, about the lack of educated women in the check-out line at the Walmart.
It made the people sad- the girls cried and the bartender poured out her soul to the man in the black hat.
Then they danced.
What’s in the bottom of your purse?
The Price of Being Nice, Bitches.
What does it really cost a girl to BE NICE?
I told a friend a story and in it I must have said at least three times, that I was trying to be nice, and that, well, that’s just being nice, isn’t it?
And she said, “It’s sad isn’t it?”
“What?”
“That we, as women still feel it’s necessary to Be Nice.”
And that’s how it sounded, like capital letters or self-important titles—I certainly never thought of boys as being NICE and the ones that were, well, they never appealed to me.
My mom said that in her day, girls would…
