Gasp!

Writing Plays in a Small Town: Other Thoughts and Considerations

Pictured: Two sidewalks in front of our house.

Throughout this essay, I’ve sprinkled accounts of my own background and experience. I did so because I believe playwrights tend to be vulnerable to other people’s agendas. I wanted transparency so you could make the best decision for yourself and your work. You may shrug this essay off because, after all, I live in Alabama. But I suspect that the differences between my experiences in the Deep South and other small town experiences elsewhere may only be a question of degrees.

 The Illusion
In many ways, the Small Town versus City debate in theater is an illusion. Of course, it is wonderful when small towns can develop home-grown artists and art events. That goes without saying. But if you are a working artist yourself, you will have to contend with both the small town and the city.

For example, you may write a play that clashes with the culture of your small town.

In that case, you will have to seek production opportunities elsewhere. The same solution will usually apply to prolific playwrights. There is no need for you to stifle your own development and voice because you live in a small town.

Certainty
It is easy to write plays when you’re in college or when your career is going well. You have the resources and external validation to support your creativity and voice. I’ve often wondered how many playwrights would last if they didn’t have that support.

I won’t lie. You will need an enormous amount of mental and emotional strength to go through this experience. If you are writing plays when you have no resources, no validation, no community, and perhaps even no hope of seeing your work onstage, then guess what? You really are a playwright. No lack of success or experience can take that away from you. If anyone accuses you of writing plays because you want to be famous, it will feel like that person has just called you the Easter Bunny.

Freedom
One of the overlooked benefits to writing plays in a small town is the intense amount of creative freedom. You are no longer bound to the topics or perspectives that you had in a city. You are not beholden to anyone. With that freedom, your real voice emerges. When you hear or see it, you’ll know.

Gratitude

Pictured: Hay people who always show up for the town's
annual Oktoberfest. One of the pleasant aspects of this experience has been the emergence of gratitude. I focus now on why I liked theater, what drew me to it, and my own work. I also have no expectations. Being far away from the theater community means that a lot of problems simply don’t apply to me. I also have freedom to dictate how I will be involved with theater and on whose terms.

Having a lot of resources stripped away, I can see how I took so much for granted when I lived in the city. For instance, it was nothing for me to get a group of actors together to read a draft of my work. I do not have that resource at my fingertips here. It means I have to become more creative in how I work. It also means that if I ever have the luxury of resources again, you can bet that I won’t take them for granted.

Conclusion
At this point, you may still be wondering if you should write plays in a small town. I don’t know. No one else can tell you either. It will depend on your priorities and what you believe you need to sustain yourself as an artist.

I have two degrees in Dramatic Writing, and I can tell you that I’m writing more now than I did in college – or any other time for that matter. I am incorporating my experiences and the town itself into my work. Yet I also know that there is very little chance of seeing my work staged here.

I’m fine with that. Living in a small town has helped me deemphasize the production aspect of playwriting. While the opportunity would be fantastic, I would rather wait to work with the right people than have another bad experience. I also see a point where I will have to reconsider my life here. I have writing milestones to reach before that happens.

I want to close by saying this: If you do move to a small town and you’ve reached the point where your work and spirit would be better served elsewhere, you can always move back to the city. The problems are no better or worse there, just different.

Writing Plays in a Small Town: The Disadvantages

Pictured: A drought forced a turtle to relocate on our front
lawn. We pointed him back in the direction of the dry creek.

Previously, I told you about the advantages of writing plays in a small town. The increase in time and money are the primary benefits. If you are planning on staying with theater, there are significant downsides to moving away from the city.

Reminders
Before we begin, I should remind you that my experiences are based on living in a small town (population 18,000) in Alabama. I previously lived in cities such as New York, San Francisco, and Austin. I know what to expect upon arriving to a new location. 

I’m sure that my experiences are compounded by the fact that I chose a radical move. I’m originally from Connecticut. If I chose a rural New England town, maybe I would’ve had more success. Certainly, living in a rural town closer to New York, Chicago, or Los Angeles would’ve eased the problem. Nevertheless, I think almost every playwright who moves away from the city will experience these downsides to some extent.

The Big Disconnect
In 2004, my then-agent attempted to discourage me from moving away from New York. When he found out that I was considering Austin, he vehemently argued against it. Moving away from New York was like a demotion. And Austin – in Texas – really?

Pictured: Possum in a can is a common country joke. It is actually
potted meat.

In the eyes of many theater people, living outside of the large cities – way outside – is a way of acknowledging your amateur status. You become a lesser writer through your location. Clearly, there are many talented playwrights and theater folks in Austin. And I can only imagine the coronary that my former agent would’ve had if he learned that I eventually ended up in Alabama.

You may also have to deal with stereotypes from theater gatekeepers and colleagues. Your small town might be in a red state, for instance. People will have expectations about your politics or your writing based on your mailing address.

I can’t honestly say whether your rural address will hamper the possibilities of being produced in other parts of the country. I expect that there are companies out there that would not be open to working with playwrights from undesirable locations. Whether this policy is explicit or simply understood, I would be surprised if it didn’t exist. I base this assumption on three factors: 1) It has been explained to me in the past that one of the benefits of having an agent is that you can live anywhere, 2) My own experiences as a script reader for several theater companies, and 3) Some of the attitudes theater folks have thrown my way about moving away from the city.

Lack of Community
Prepare to be invisible. The Big Disconnect means a downshift in your desirability career-wise. Networking on a national level is radically different when you live in a small town. Others may think you don’t have anything to offer them, so there’s really no point in getting to know you.

Pictured: Deer outside our kitchen window.

If you move to a small or rural town, you will not have the comradery that exists in the city. You will not be able to discuss theater in the real world. Your small or rural town likely has no actors, directors, set designers or maybe even theater instructors. You may not be able to find people who can read your work back to you in rough form. Not everyone likes theater or wants to be involved in it.

To me, this has been the backbreaker of my life here in Alabama. I’m someone who enjoys her own company; yet, the lack of community is soul-killing. I’ve often wondered if it’s simply a matter of the intense cultural differences. It’s possible. When I left New York in 2004, I had a fledgling theatersphere to fall back on. But then again, I hadn’t yet moved to a small town.

As I mentioned already, the cultural differences I’ve experienced here in Alabama have been limiting factor. In small communities, trust is a major problem. I’ve been here for five years now. After trying various means of connecting with people, I’ve simply come to terms with the limitations of this situation.

Distance and Convenience
If you want to take a break from your small town and attend a concert or go to a museum, it may prove to be a high-priced experience.

When I first moved to Alabama, I thought that living near Nashville, Atlanta, Birmingham, and Huntsville would provide me with ample theater opportunities. For the record, Nashville is two hours away; Atlanta is three hours; and Birmingham/Huntsville are both one-hour from my town. What I didn’t count on was the cost of getting to those places. Alabama has very little in the way of public transportation. I used to commute 100 miles a day, round-trip to get to my job in Birmingham. Driving is costly. Add gas prices to the amount of a theater ticket and you have an expensive night out. 

Improving your skills is also problematic when living in a rural area. You will likely have to travel far to attend a playwriting group or class. For example, I wanted to take an acting class in Nashville. While budgeting for the class, I realized that the cost of transportation was more than the price of the class itself.

Like many people actively following an artistic pursuit, you will want to seek out networking and development opportunities. The big question is this: How do you continue to grow and develop your craft while writing plays in a small town? The answer: It is nearly impossible. The only way you can do it is to take online classes or travel great distances. If one of your priorities is to grow as an artist, consider this limitation before making the move.

Next: Other Thoughts and Considerations 

Writing Plays in a Small Town: The Changes

Pictured: An EF4 tornado hit my town during Alabama's
April 27th tornado outbreak. (Photo by graphizguy2k)

Previously, I wrote about the practical benefits to writing plays in a small town.  The advantages are obvious. Money and time are precious commodities to every writer. When playwrights consider making the jump from city to small town, they often cite these two factors as their primary considerations. But before you pack your bags, get acquainted with one word: change. 

Theater is a location-specific art form. I have long thought that I could write plays on the moon and send them in without a problem. But when you uproot yourself from the city, it sets changes into motion that you may not anticipate.

You
When your environment changes, you either flow with it or you cry: long, loud and often. I’ve done both. The amount of changes I had to make when I moved to Alabama surprised me. It caused me to question my beliefs and behavior. At times, I had the visceral sensation that I was being stripped of pretention, judgments and expectations.

Pictured: Another view of the EF4 tornado
decimating the historic district in my town.
(Photo by GUNxLVNxSlimJim) That has been my experience. Yours will be different. Whatever you personal difficulty you encounter, especially after you first move, know that it can take several years before you fully acclimate to your new location.

Your Writing
I believe many writers take location for granted, but where you live influences your work. I’ve seen playwrights experience success and then go to Hollywood. Soon, they are writing plays about “the industry.” Even if you don’t write explicitly about where you live, themes directly related to your locale will emerge.

How does your present location reveal itself in your writing?

Before moving to Alabama, I rarely tackled the subject of race in my creative work. I find that it comes up now, even when I’m not intentionally writing about it. Another theme has to do with the challenges of being a woman in the Deep South.  These themes are constantly in the background, even as I write plays set in New York City.

Your Perspective and Your View of Theater
Moving to Alabama has widened my view of life in America and theater in particular. The amount of poverty that exists in this part of the country is stunning. It is difficult to talk about it without remembering how much I took for granted when I lived in the city. I strongly suspect that many small towns in America have this problem.

When you surround yourself with people who don’t go to theater, you begin to understand what is “wrong” with it. To describe it is beyond the scope of this post. Nevertheless, how you see theater will change significantly.

Your Friends

Pictured: My town's historic district. The tornado destroyed
900 homes and 100 businesses in the city. One person died.
(Photo by Greg Richter)

If you are moving from a big city to a small town, prepare yourself. Some friends may drop you. Theater contacts may fade you out. This is normal. When I moved to Alabama, a few people quit talking to me. Others made false assumptions about my politics and followed it up with snide comments. Some of those experiences figured prominently into my decision to quit theater completely in 2007.

I know now there’s nothing you can do about people and their prejudices. So I'd suggest not wasting your energy trying to change their minds or prove yourself. Use your resources to further your work and your goals.

Next: The Disadvantages of Being a Playwright in a Small Town

Writing Plays in a Small Town: The Benefits

Pictured: A performance in my town.

Moving from a city to a small town is a large leap, particularly if you're a playwright. Like it or not, American theater is centralized in a handful cities around the country. That’s a fact. Yet, affordable living in those cities is almost impossible. It makes moving to a small town an attractive idea. But before you take the chance, look at how this move will serve you and your work. 

Background
When I moved to Alabama in 2006, I had planned on getting involved with theater in my town. It proved to be fruitless. I quit theater and playwriting in August of 2007. The reasons for quitting had to do with previous bad experiences, tons of debt, burnout, and the impossibility of doing theater in my current circumstances.  These issues, on top of my health challenges, left little positive energy toward anyone or anything. For the next three years, I worked at paying off an enormous amount of debt I had accumulated from my theater days in New York City.

My husband, who was born and raised in this small town, was able to open a door for us to act in a few unconventional performance pieces. These bit parts occurred about once a year, and they were done for a specific reason outside of the conventional “evening at the theater.” In this way, I was able to contribute to the community.

Did these experiences count as theater? Absolutely.

Do I wish I had more of them? Of course.

Do I see a role for me beyond what I’ve just described? No.

Considerations
Some writers prefer to stay in comfortable territory, either in their writing or in their personal lives. I’ve even heard a few theater folks say that they don’t care what people outside of their city think or how they live. That’s fine, if that works for them.

As for me, I like to push boundaries in my personal and professional life. I’m curious as to how people live and why they think they things they do. In my opinion, it’s impossible to gauge all that accurately by interviewing people or visiting a place for a few weeks.  All you will get is a thin veneer, a surface understanding of people and their situations. If you have this same intense curiosity, then you might like writing in a small town.

There are advantages and drawbacks, of course. As I describe each angle, understand that I am coming from my own experience here in Alabama. Playwrights who chose to live in a suburb of a large city or another area of the country will have a different experience.

Low Cost of Living
When I moved to New York City, I had $1000 on my credit card. I left the city with $14,000 in debt. How did it happen? Good question.

I settled on the “day job/write at night” paradigm when I moved to New York. I figured my career was theater. There was no point in trying to get a job that meant something. These low-paying jobs were typically under-valued, both in appreciation and compensation. They didn’t do much for self-esteem and confidence. Some days I worked 60 hours a week to meet my financial obligations.  Still, my attitude was that I should be willing to go into debt for my career. Otherwise, it was a statement that I didn’t believe in myself.

Living in Austin, Texas for 18-months gave me a glimpse at what it was like to live in a more affordable place. I marveled at how little public transportation cost. My rent was half of what I paid in New York. I finished three drafts of a full-length play during that time.

Alabama’s cost of living is lower than Texas. The result is that I have paid off my debt from New York City and I can meet all of my financial obligations without working myself to death.

Time
I write 10-12 hours a day. I allot a certain amount of time to my freelance writing. Since there is a low cost of living, I can put more energy into my plays and books. I make my own hours, so if I feel like I’m on a roll with a project, I keep going. This is one of the primary benefits to living in a small town.

The slow pace means I have time to think. I can delve into ideas deeply and incorporate them into my writing. I also have time to consider my previous experiences in theater and who I am as a writer. I also have time to read books that I should’ve read a long time ago.

I have no children. But even if I did, the slower pace and low cost of living would still be a benefit.

 Next: What Changes When You are a Playwright in a Small Town

 

Writing Plays in a Small Town: I’m a Playwright. Do I Have to Live in a City?

  “I’m a playwright. Should I leave the city and move to a small town?”

If you are a theater major or work in the field, you may dream of having more time and a lower cost of living. I know I did. Back in 2004, I was working in a Times Square high-rise in New York. I went through spans of time when I worked 60 hours a week to meet my financial obligations. I knew my writing was taking a hit. I used to wistfully imagine what it would be like to write all day long and not be in debt. What would it be like? If only…

So I made the move. I tumbled around the country and landed in a small town in Alabama. Population: about 18,000. I’ve been here since 2006. I’m not from Alabama originally, so I’ve had to deal with various levels of culture shock along the way.

Was it worth it? You will hear a lot of professional people give their opinions about where playwrights should live. They may encourage you to stay because of the career opportunities. They might also encourage you to leave so you can concentrate on your own work. Unless they’ve actually had the experience, they are talking in theories.

When I made the move, there wasn’t anyone who could tell me what to expect. Some people warned me about it, but they didn’t really know for sure either. If I knew what to expect back then, it would’ve made the experience easier.

These days, if I have ideas about theater or the world, I put them in my plays and books. That wasn’t always the case. I’m reverting back to my old personal blogging style, circa 2006, to give you a thumbnail sketch on the benefits and challenges of writing plays in a small town.

If you are thinking about making the move, there’s a whole lot you need to know. Due to the length of this essay, I'll post it in five segments.

Disclaimer

Clearly what I’m about to write is my personal experience. I do not have an agenda. I do not care if people live in cities or towns. Whatever works for you is fabulous. I believe that people often talk in theories and stereotypes rather than facts and experience.

In all likelihood, you are reading this essay because you are wondering whether to make a change in your lifestyle. It can be difficult to navigate the factors. If you talk about it with people around you, they may become defensive. You are not alone. Whenever I’ve questioned my circumstances, I’m always surprised at the emotional reactions I receive. Remember, you have to do what is best for you and your work.

Background

I lived in New York City from 2000 to 2004. It was my second go-around in the Big Apple since I went to college in New York City. My reason for moving away this time was primarily health-related. I had a chronic health condition that plagued me for at least two years that I lived in the city. Despite the downturn in my health, I had a rather fruitful playwriting career.  Still, I knew that if I stayed in New York City, I would not get any better. Hence, a move was in order.

I took a month-long train ride before choosing to settle in Austin, Texas. I stayed for 18-months. During that period, I started a relationship with a guy in Alabama – my future husband. I moved to a rural town in Alabama in 2006 to join him. The town’s population: about 18,000 people.

About Alabama and “Special Circumstances”

Is it hard being a northerner living in a rural town in the Deep South? Yes.

Have I ever been called Yankee? A few times.

Do I regret moving to Alabama? Sometimes.

My experiences in Alabama fall under the term “special circumstances,” meaning that the cultural differences have made it more challenging.  There are plenty of stereotypes and judgments about the South. Multiply it by 10 when you live in the Deep South. I’ve noticed particularly venomous reactions when I travel outside of the state and mention the word “Alabama.”

If you move to a rural town, you will be more comfortable if you don’t have to deal with culture shock. If you have blood relatives in the area, your chances of successful integration are far higher. Do not expect a good reaction if you are dropping in by helicopter. This is not the Peace Corps; rural folks don’t need to be saved from themselves.

If you are not originally from the area, you will likely never earn their trust. It does not matter that you are an artist. We would all like to think that the arts bring people together. And that’s true – to a point. Ultimately you can’t force people to change their minds. They change them on their own. There are slew of reasons why small towns are closed communities. Some of those reasons are understandable in context.

But it doesn’t change the bottom line: You may not fit into the rural town. This fact will make it impossible for you to do your work.

Next: The Benefits of Being a Small Town Playwright

The Walk

Robert Hugh DanielOnce a week, on my “weekend,” I accompany my husband on his commute to Birmingham. I visit with a friend, hang out in public areas and read what other people are thinking on the Internet. The day serves as a temporary respite from the solitude I feel during the week.

When the office workers go home, I take a walk that lasts several hours. Usually I cross Birmingham’s Downtown Civil Rights Trail. When I think of it, I stop to read the historical markers. Inevitably, I wind up in front of the BBVA Compass headquarters, where there’s a metal statue of Birmingham philanthropist Robert Hugh Daniel. For several weeks now, I’ve stared at the statue. Sometimes I even touch it. Then I read the biography plaque. I don’t know why.

During last week’s Birmingham trip, I took two people out to dinner at a new restaurant in Five Points South. After we finished our sandwiches, we read my new play aloud. I took two parts, plus stage directions. They each had a part, respectively. One person had some acting experience. The other worked in the medical field.

A few hours before the dinner, I thought of canceling it. I was scared because it’s been five years since I heard anyone read my work out loud. I didn’t know how I’d feel afterward.

The play is a one-act comedy with four characters – one set. I wrote it last fall to see if I could still write plays. Sometimes, people lose the ability to write in a form. I heard Bob Dylan say that once in an interview. I remember it well because it rang true for me. I used to write poetry, that’s how I got into college. But I don’t write it anymore, though I wish I did.

When I wrote this play, I decided to make it tightly structured and light. Since I have no contact with actors, directors, playwriting groups or theater companies, I didn’t veer off into daring territory. I wanted to write a fun play. Even more importantly, I wanted to see if I could set a goal and succeed.

The reading went far better than I could’ve dreamed. Both people liked the play a great deal, laughed while reading it, and seemed happy to be there when we finished. For my part, I didn’t feel humiliated or ashamed for writing it. It doesn’t need a rewrite. Neither person saw distracting elements that I need to fix.

Where I live, it isn’t easy to find people who will read my work out loud. I’m grateful that I found people who would do it, and that it was a good experience.

The Creek

I spend all day, every day, writing. When I’m not working on my freelance writing projects, I write plays. Alabama’s low-cost of living enables me to write more than I ever have before… Even in college.

In terms of mainstream theater, no one expects much from me since I live in Alabama. It allows me to write with integrity. Before, when I lived elsewhere, I mirrored my surroundings.

Living in Alabama is counter-intuitive. I don’t fit in culturally, but I have learned to respect the differences in others. Rather than telling people that they are wrong, I try to understand why people think the things they do. Looking down on people, judging them, and behaving in a patronizing way is ugly.* When you do it in theater, it alienates your audience.

Life here is different. Expecting people to have the same point-of-view is not an enlightened attitude. Again, this does not mean that I agree with what I see. But I refuse to discard people because of where they live, their politics, class, education, or whatever else makes me different from them.

Our dirt driveway is 1/8 of a mile long. It runs parallel to a creek. Every day, I take a walk for an hour, up and down our driveway. After a storm fills the creek. I listen for the water rushing. I can also hear trains in the distance. I think about my previous theater career, the people I used to know, and if I’ll ever see anything I write on stage again. I don’t know.

* Which is not to say that I don't get ugly on occasion, especially when it comes to Cosmopolitan magazine... Kidding. Well, only sort of.

Cosmopolitan magazine gets the porn treatment

I'm all for community standards. If people choose to be repressed, that's their business. I've had to take that attitude since moving to Alabama. Live and Let Live is a wonderful way of coping. But seeing this during my local trip to the grocery store stopped me in my tracks.

At every register, a black plastic magazine cover shielded our eyes from Cosmopolitan. Those plastic shields are usually reserved for porn magazines. I've never seen it used for a major market women's magazine before. 

As a side note, the store offers Maxim and other men's magazines without the black plastic shield. 

I couldn't help but wonder why the management used the shield in this instance. Consider what you normally see in Maxim and now look at the cover of Cosmopolitan. What could've caused them to use the shield?

Kinky sex and birth control, we dare not speak thy names.

Another form of Bubba

I never thought that I'd see a cola named Bubba. But here it is, at our local Save-A-Lot grocery store. 

BCS Championship: Alabama snowman says War Eagle!

 

We built this in our backyard a few hours ago. I had to show my husband how to build a snowman. My husband supplied the Auburn hat and Birmingham News. 

Alabama snow: How to make a snow cream

 When my husband, a native Alabamian, first told me about snow creams, I thought it was a countrified idea. But no, he explained, it’s for real. People actually take snow off the ground, mix it with other ingredients, and eat it.

For me, slurping snow was kid-stuff in Connecticut. I did it until one day I realized that there were such things as yellow snow and acid rain. But for Southerners who rarely see snow, the prospect of a genuine snow cream is thrilling.

In honor of the great Southern Snowpocalypse of 2011, here are our instructions on how to make a snow cream. Yes, he pours way too much Vanilla in the batch. And here’s a special tip: Take the snow off of a parked car. If you grab snow from a ground-based pile, a pebble could be nestled inside resulting in tooth breakage.

Where is Dominick Brascia?

Dominick Brascia used to be the afternoon talk show host on Birmingham's 960 WERC. His thick New York accent reminded me of my friend Sal, who used to live in Little Italy. Dominick was conservative, but his sense of humor outweighed his politics. Even people who disagreed with him couldn't help liking the guy.

I loved listening when he talked about his days in Hollywood. He had bit parts on shows like, "Night Court," "Knight Rider," and "Friday the 13th: A New Beginning."  The first time I heard his show, he had Johnny V, Scott Baio's wingman, and I laughed until I cried.

Why do I feel like I'm writing an obit? Because WERC took Brascia off the airwaves and put Glenn Beck in his place. As if Beck doesn't have enough coverage.

No one knows why Brascia's gone, but I hope he finds his way back to the local airwaves.

Pictures of Snow in Alabama

The Alabama state flower, Camellia, covered in snow. 

More Camellias in snow. 

A barn in Cullman, Alabama.

The Garden

Tuesday, June 24, 2008 

5:35 a.m.

Wildlife on Our Front Lawn

Today's version of Wildlife on Our Front Lawn features Fred, the turtle. This courageous and friendly fellow traveled up from the creek, not too far from our house. Our beagle, Molly, barked and barked and barked until we came outside to meet her friend.

Jethro walked him across the lawn and aimed him back toward the creek. Let's hope he doesn't make a u-turn.

Busy During Our Swimming Party?

We spent this weekend dealing with the backyard of our house. Jethro finally got around to uncovering the pool. I don't think I've ever seen liquid so green before. 

I raked leaves, earned myself a blister and saw a black widow spider near our house.

Who knew holiday weekends could be so fun.

How to Make an Alabama Snowcream

Jethro and I were so excited by the 3/4 inch of snow outside that we decided to make our first movie. They make something called "snowcreams" here. It requires scraping snow off a jalopy parked in the front yard. Yes, you must have a car parked in the front of your house. Then... Well... Check it out. Jethro explains it for you.

In case you thought I was getting used to Alabama...

During lunch yesterday, some friends told me that it had been awhile since I complained about the wildlife in Alabama. "You must be adjusting well," they told me. "We haven't heard you talk about mice and spiders."

Cut to: The Farmhouse, Seven Hours Later

While meditating in the front room, my intuition told me to go outside to see what was causing our Beagle, Molly, to bark. I took a few steps out the door, thinking I would see a rabbit or maybe a coyote. Instead, it was a four-foot Cottonmouth snake.

Cut to: Screaming woman

I ran back in the farmhouse, to the bedroom to fetch my gun Jethro. Then I ran back to get the dog, who was teasing the snake. Backing and running towards it, barking.

Cut to: Screaming woman

My voice was hoarse from screaming. I threw branches at Molly and chased her around. Jethro finally comes out with a shovel and yells back at me to get the dog inside. Doing my best Janis Joplin imitation, I yelled for Molly once again. I must've registered three octave levels at the same time. Molly looked at me as if I was being slightly unreasonable in my reaction. She stopped cold. I grabbed her and hustled her inside the house.

Cut to: Snake with mouth wide open. Fangs.

Even I caught sight of it. That thing was the thickest snake I'd ever seen in my life. And of course, I'm now screaming yet again. "Do you need the gun?" Jethro yells back at me to get into the house since he's sick of my screaming.

So I paced inside the house by the front door, waiting for Jethro to get bitten.

Cut to: Clock ticking

In what seemed like forever, I finally saw Jethro carry the limp snake out to the field with the shovel. Later on, we decided that the snake was a cottonmouth, and those snakes, friends, are venomous. It almost made Jethro wish that he grabbed his gun instead of the shovel.

As for me... It almost made me wish I grew a backbone. Maybe it's time to put in for that archery set.

Coyote, or Why I Might Need a Gun License

I was having a good day on Friday. Taking a break from my editing job, I happened to gaze out the window and saw...