Readers ask when I’ll write my own story; they say, when they read my books, it’s obvious I have one to tell. My answer has been something like, “I lived it…and that’s why I write fiction!” Or, maybe, “Real life can suck… I’d rather make things up!” And, by the way, that is basically what novelists do; we make stuff up. But as I occasionally reminisce about my childhood, I often get strange responses – raised eyebrows, screwed up faces, or alas, utter disbelief. I’ve slowly realized, that while I can make up stories all day long – there is truth to that saying, about real life, “You can’t make this sh-t up!” So, here, in no particular order, are some true tales of Tammy Seley, the kid, and maybe some about Tammy Seley Elliott, the supposed grown-up, with perspective from that kid’s lens. It’s all true. It all happened somewhere along the way.
I’ve gone delinquent, if not rogue, on my writing responsibilities; thus, this entry is quite overdue. Besides leaving our mountain for a solo road trip, I’d already stepped away from the novel I’m writing…it and the characters decided to take off in a very different direction than I’d originally planned. It happens. It’s interesting (although… Read more
Today is my sister’s birthday. She’s old. She’s REALLY old. I suppose if she wants to read this, she’ll need a magnifying glass to see it and someone to poke her every few minutes lest she nods off. They just don’t make strong enough Geritol for someone as old as her. She’s so old she…oh,… Read more
On this blog journey, I’ve focused mainly on Dad’s influence on our family, and I figure there will be lots more along that vein since the gist is “disfunction with a twist.” However, this blog is called “Somewhere Along the Way;” the way was long, and there were many other factors in our childhood that… Read more
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