Karen's Book

My friend Karen has finally started writing her book!

Her, and my friends Ammye and Jimmy Clyde are all so creative when they put words to paper or now, computer.

Jimmy is freakishly witty. He's been making me laugh for over 20 years. His timing is perfect, He really is that funny, especially when writing the punch line and I do believe he should write a book. (he's a we bit busy these days with his 8 kids!)

Ammye, is a just an amazing word smith. Just about every time we talk I have to ask her "what does that word mean?" because she will say one I have never used. But more then that, she can string a sentence together like no one else. I have often thought, "I wish I could talk like that".

And then there's Karen.

Sometime I will read something I have written and think "that's good stuff" but then I read Karen's blog and I realize, I know nothing. She is that good.

She could make filing her nails sound interesting but her life has been interesting, painful, sweet, happy and sad. I believe it's the perfect time for her to write her story.

Below is the preface to her book. She posted it on her blog yesterday. She said she wants us to hold her accountable, so she will finish the book. (I did not censor it, so if your offended by language, you may not want to read further.) I can't wait to read the rest.


This book is not about a life that has lived, seen it all, and learned from it’s mistakes. Contrarily, it’s about me. A Baton Rouge girl. Louisiana spice. The strange combination of a woman and a child. All that jazz. I’m dedicating it to 3 year old me. She was innocent. She had not seen what people could do yet. Her hair was curly, but that was ok, because she didn’t know that wasn’t cool. For all she knew her boobs would be buxom. Life was an open, happy road like the yellow brick one. She didn’t know about the flying monkeys and bitchy trees that threw apples. She thought she was pretty, special, and loveable. She was all that and more like every other 3 year old. She was a good girl even though she said “shit” out loud near her mother to see what it felt like, tasted like. Thinking it just wasn’t enough. She believed in God and had not started having nightmares yet. So here’s to you little Karen. This is your story. Well, not your story, but your heart’s story. It’s about the lessons and experiences and observations that you have since felt. It’s about what has happened so far and maybe coming out of it all in tact. We’ll see. I hope to use words like pontificate, jackassery, douche bag (a given), tomfoolery, and lomax. Maybe I can squeeze in hope, love, and peace.

Please go to her blog, http://karensporch.blogspot.com and encourage her to continue writing it.