Cracker:  A Black Memoir

 

CRACKER:  A BLACK MEMOIR.  July 22 – September 10.  36,000 words.  How I wrote the great long continuous book of my life without winning a grant, a literary prize, or selling a word to New York or Hollywood.  How else would you keep control of it?  Of course a writer is tight-assed and anal-retentive, paranoid, you might get hacked, your email interfered with, your business in the street.  Let it all hang out.  What are they going to do—reject you?  How will they stop you from doing it yourself?  For a coterie of steadfast readers, the Buzzard Cult?  A motley crew.  Niche writers and their reader.  Yes, I have a reader.  It’s like a letter to a friend, or from a friend.  They replaced the mail boxes in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina.  The mail must go through.  Of course there were weapons carriers with private security in the Garden District.  Moon Landrieu, Mary Landrieu, Mitch Landrieu.  Brenda was a Louisiana delegate for Jimmy Carter.  Is that correct?  We ate fish I caught in Lake Pontchartrain with a snatch hook.  Tasted like kerosene.  We moved there during Hurricane Camille.

 


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