Book Fretting and the Whites Creek Bank

Not book fretting exactly. I feel strangely calm and nervous about the book. I go along mostly thinking, “the people who’ve read it like it. It will be fine.” And then, every once in a while, I am struck by the knowledge that it sucks and that people only think they like it because of my magical powers. Which, really, should be the same as them liking it, but in my mind it’s all “you’re a fraud and everyone’s going to know!!!!” Except that it’s just a book of ghost stories, half of which y’all read last year.

And then I think “oh my god, what if they don’t get that they can read the stories for free?! What if they hate me for taking their money?!”

But that’s only at very rare moments.

Mostly, what I’m fretting about is where I can throw a big party for the book. I want to read a few stories and let people have a way of buying drinks and we all can toast to the exciting process of publishing a book and all go our separate ways.

But where to have such a thing? I have been fretting and fretting and fretting about this like you would not believe. I even bored my parents about it.

I could rent out the basement of the Downtown Presbyterian Church, but I hate paying to park downtown and I hate asking people to pay to park downtown. Plus, I want people to (be able to) buy their own drinks and that wouldn’t happen there.

I could, I guess, get the room at the Flying Saucer, but that place is loud and not conducive to storytelling.

And I’d love to have it at a location that seemed suitably creepy.

So, today, I went over to Ri’chard’s to look at the old Whites Creek Bank, which is a part of his entertainment complex.

Lord almighty, it is perfect. I want to live there.

But it’s too small. It only holds 20 people. And I might only get 20 people to show up to an event, but I have to pretend to myself like I can get more. So, I am asking you, people of Nashville and the surrounding area. Do you know a place that looks like this but bigger?

Life is Weird

As of this morning, I am on the schedule of one of the coolest conferences in town in September. If Robert Plant is there, just expect that I will melt into a puddle of goo and desire and that will be the end of me.

Anyway, not only is life weird, but blogging is weird, so sorry that I’m still being ambiguous about this.  I’ll be specific when it’s over. Plus, if, for some reason, my panel gets canceled, it will suck less if you didn’t know how cool it was going to be.

The Conclusion of the Bells Bend Archaeology Study

We went to hear about it.

I honestly find the whole reality of people just tossing aside bones to get at the things people’s loved ones put in the grave with them so upsetting I about can’t stand it. Anderson also said that he’s seen looting of historical graveyards, but I wasn’t clear about whether he meant in the Bend or just in general, so I didn’t include it.

But it’s not like the Muscogee aren’t historical residents of Bells Bend, you know? And they’ll have to come over and deal with those bones.

I don’t know.  I might be in favor of guns in parks if people felt empowered to shoot grave robbers.

And woo-woo wise, it just freaks me the fuck out. You’re going to rummage around in someone’s grave, toss his or her bones aside, and steal the stuff their loved ones intended for them and you think what you’re doing can be offset or mitigated with a cigarette?

Motherfucker, please.

Mom and I had a long talk on the way home and she wondered if there’s not so much brazen looting because the economy is so bad. I don’t know. You’d kind of hope that people would only be up to that bullshit because they’re desperate.

I don’t know.

It’s just a shame.

It’s not much different than what’s always happened in Nashville, but yuck, nevertheless.