Shellie Rushing Tomlinson
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Volume I Issue I
Hello and welcome to the inaugural issue of All Things
Southern. I'm very excited about celebrating my southern
heritage with you. I believe in a South that hasn’t been
getting a lot of press, a genteel way of life where
neighbors form bonds as strong as the giant oaks and pecan
trees that dot our land, a place of good manners, strong
values, special people and fine food. I want to meet you here
on my cyber porch in the tradition of our grandparents to
swap stories, laughs and inspiration.
With respect to Mr.Foxworthy, whom I'm sure is a fine man,
and certainly a very funny one, our South is more than
trailer trash and rednecks. For this reason you'll find very
little redneck humor in our "Chuckles" features. (Though
there might be a smidgen of Yankee jokes to even the score.)
If cooking is your passion, check out "The Taste of the
South", a weekly look at our delicious southern dishes.
Maybe you're as tired as I am of the bad news that screams
from the headlines and blares from our televisions. If so,
you'll enjoy our "Southern Spotlight" where we'll shine our
beam on the south's finest people, places and events.
Many great authors and orators have called the south home,
along with a lot of common folk with uncommon wisdom. In
"It's Been Said" we'll take a look at some famous southern
quotes.
Our "Southern Comfort" feature might sound familiar, but
it's more than a pint of pick-me-up; it's a dose of
inspiration from my heart to yours.
In the end, I hope you'll be so entertained by our
features, amused by our jokes and quotes, and tempted by
our cooking, that you'll weigh in with your own. I look
forward to hearing from you for our "Southern Exchange."
And please, if you have friends who might enjoy this FREE
emag, would you do me a big neighborly favor and forward
this copy to them? Maybe they'll decide to subscribe and
join our southern celebration.
Until next week...
Warm regards,
Shellie
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Volume I Issue II
Wow! Last week's long awaited launch was a lot of fun
for me--and scary too! Things are moving pretty quickly
around here. (Hmmm...this is probably how the mad
scientist felt when he created Frankenstein!)
As a way of furthering our introduction, this week's
porch talk is a bit of an autobiography; I hope you enjoy
it. I'd love to hear more about each of you as well.
Drop me a line sometime.
I was nine when I wrote my first book, MARTHA AND HER
HORSE. It had eighty-seven pages and chapter titles like
"Trouble in the Pasture". Okay, so it wasn't WAR AND PEACE,
but I had a story in me--and I needed to tell it. My mother
proudly read excerpts of this literary wonder to anyone she
could lasso into listening.
I'm thirty-eight. I still love words and my reason
for writing hasn't changed; I need to tell stories.
Unfortunately, without Mama's strong-arm tactics, finding
an audience has proven more difficult. For years I scratched
my words on the back of grocery lists and children's dentists'
appointments, or piled them next to each other in notebooks
and crammed them in dresser drawers and closets. Then, about
a year ago, I admitted to myself that I wanted to tell my
stories to other people. And so began my odyssey into the
publishing world. Remember Dorothy waking up in Oz and Alice
falling down the rabbit hole? Good, the analogy works--
Like Dorothy's Oz and Alice's wonderland, the publishing world
is an elusive and distant land with its own time system, language
and laws. Slowly, through careful observation, I've been
able to ascertain much about this alien culture.
The inhabitants of Publisher Land are a hardworking group of people with a special affinity for riddles--as evidenced by their common mantra: Show me your clips. "Clips" are paper trophies, copies of your past glories, proof that you've been published before. You need these clips; you must have them in order to get clips. (No, you can't buy clips.) Sound impossible? Welcome to Publisher Land.
The law of the land is simple. If you've been published, you can get published. If you haven't been published you need to get published, so you can be published. Your chances of getting published are much better if you have an agent. Oh yeah, that reminds me, most agents like to represent people that have already been published.
I've determined there are actually only six people running Publisher Land. Writer's Market 2001 lists at least one-gazillion editors (a gazillion is a little more than a million). But I think most of them are the same person because their letters are suspiciously similar. All six of these people speak publisher-ease, a second language I've been somewhat successful in learning. For example: their letters might say "we regret to inform you that after carefully reviewing your manuscript we feel it's not right for our present needs". This should be read as "you haven't been published before and pigs will fly before we take the first chance."
Just as their words have different meanings, so the laws of time in Publisher Land are different also. Often a letter from a publishing house will say they hope to have a firm reply concerning your manuscript in twelve to fourteen weeks. You might think this is a month or two. The people in Publisher Land will be laughing at you. They know it means sometime this calendar year--if you're lucky.
I say, let 'em laugh. I've just begun to fight. I'm playing their game and getting better at it all the time. I've read books on writing and books about books about writing. And just recently I've had a couple of small victories. Nothing grand--no six-figure advances-just enough success to throw gas on my word fire. But that's okay. I still have an ace in the hole; a back-up plan I don't think Publisher Land is ready for--Mama the Literary Agent. It's worked before.
Until next week...
Warm regards,
Shellie
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Volume I Issue III
The sun isn't always shining when friends meet
on the front porch to visit, but we reach for that
fellowship to somehow break through the gloom. And so it
is this morning as I meet you, my new friends, on my
cyber porch for our weekly visit.
I struggled with sending an issue out this week in the
face of the pain and sorrow facing our nation. Can I be
honest? For a moment I worried that with such a
brand-new readership, my little publication might not
survive skipping an issue so soon...and you have all been
so loyal and kind to read the previous issues and pass
them on. And then I immediately felt horrible about such a
terribly selfish train of thought.
"All Things Southern" was born to be a celebration, and
clearly, it is impossible to celebrate the South as our
nation reels from the blows of her enemy.
For that reason, you won't find many of our lighter
features in today's issue. Those features will remain
silent in respect to our fallen Americans. Only this
column, the "Southern Quote", the "Southern Comfort"
and the "Southern Exchange" will be updated at
http://www.allthingssouthern.com.
As I attempt to add my words to those of all the t.v.
anchors, journalists, and leaders of our nation, I feel
wholly inadequate. Words fail...plans fail...buildings
fall...and lives are lost--but the spirit survives. And
this is where my thoughts turn today.
As Tuesday's incredible events unfolded I was struck
over and over by the strength and beauty of the human
spirit. I heard of nurses and doctors in New York who
worked throughout the day and into the night trying to
save the lives of their fellow Americans; though many of
them were married to NYC firemen and policemen and could
get no word on whether their own spouses were dead or
alive.
I watched the faces of relief workers and saw the
compassion and love sending them in and out of those
burning, unstable buildings--each of them fully aware
they were risking their own lives. A risk from which it
now seems many did not survive.
So what was I seeing? I believe we saw the best and the
worst of mankind Tuesday. We saw an evil that is immortal,
that resides in human souls, but comes from another realm.
And the best? We saw in each compassionate touch, in each
act of love and sacrifice, the characteristics of another immortal
power--the Omnipotent One--our God, who will one day put
an end to the evil in this world.
I believe His heart aches with ours, but He has given
people free reign now, on this earth, to choose between
His great love and the evil of His enemy.
I pray that today you will be able to turn from the horror, the
evil and pain, to lean against the chest of the ONE who sits on
the throne.
Until next week...
With sincere thoughts and prayers,
Shellie
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Volume I Issue IV
Hey everybody! I'm glad it's Thursday. I'm really beginning
to look forward to our weekly visits. It's actually kind
of addictive on this end--I just hope it's becoming a
nice habit for you as well. (she smiles)
First things first: Please know that my heart still aches,
and my prayers continue for the victims of last Tuesday's
tragedies. Life has changed for us all. And yet, I very much
want to comply with our president's request to return to as
much normalcy in our lives as possible. I support the tone
Mr. Bush has set for this great nation. It is a very balanced
message--emphasizing honor and respect for our fallen Americans
and patriotism to our country, all forged with a commitment and
determination to the job at hand.
So, with those thoughts in mind, ALL THINGS SOUTHERN is back in
its entirety. Please, pull your chairs on in closer and sit a
spell.
It started innocently enough...I never set out to do an
alligator issue. It just so happened that it was time to
announce the winner of the GREAT GATOR GIVE-A-WAY. The lucky
winner is named below and posted on the website. Now don't peek,
stay with me...( I know, you couldn't help it.)
After that, well, I guess I was on a 'gator wavelength because,
I found this neat web site to profile in the "Southern
Spotlight". By then it was 'Gator Mania--full steam ahead. I hope
you enjoy yourselves. I'm sure I'll shake this thing before
I see you again.
Until next week...
Warm regards,
Shellie
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Volume I Issue V
Hello everyone, and welcome to the porch! I've been thinking
about family today. Few things are as treasured in the south
as our families. I hope all is well with yours...
My sisters both came in to visit this weekend. It was fun;
we fell into familiar family patterns easily. I could almost hear
the chords of the old song by Sister Sledge,
"We are family, I have all my sisters with me.
All the people around us they say,
can they be that close?
Just let me say for the record,
We're giving love in a family dose..."
Webster defines a sister as "a female human being having the
same parents as another person." Right--if you have a sister,
then you know "a female human being" would be one of the nicer
things you've called her.
The late Charles M. Schultz, creator of the Peanuts gang, once
said, "Big sisters are the crab grass in the lawn of life." This
from the man who gave us Lucy, as near perfect an example of the
big sister as literature will ever produce. Like most big sisters,
Lucy invested herself fully in the role. In one of Mr. Schultz's
earlier strips, Feb. 1954, we see her watching a clock as the
minute hands advance. On the hour she screams "BEDTIME!" at her
little brother, Linus , who promptly flips in mid-air from the force
of her announcement. I'm with you, Linus--been there, lived that.
"Families are about learning to overcome emotional torture." I
love this quote by Matt Groeing, it could well speak to sisterhood's
greatest weapon: mental abuse. Nothing is off limits here. Find their
insecurities and exploit them to your advantage. Be it their toes
or their rears, their nose or their ears, when growing up with
sisters--it's all fair game.
Side by side you live with this person this aggravating person. And
then one day you grow up--and little things begin to
remind you of the good times you shared. A flashback of late night giggle
attacks returns, rare nights when you forgot to fight and lay in bed
laughing at nothing and everything. The memory is pleasant, so you stir
the pot and others float to the top. You have to smile when you remember
that as mean as your sister was to you--she reserved her fiercest
anger for your enemies. Growing up with sisters is like living with
the mob. Sure, they're rough, but it's nice to have 'em around when
someone calls you out.
You can't pretend with sisters either. They know you in a way no one
else does. When I recall my childhood, my sisters are the main
characters--my parents, the directors. My father provided
for me; my sisters played with me. My mom gave us our bath; my sisters
splashed soap in my eyes. Even my husband, with whom I also share a
past, knows me only as the girl I was when we met, and the person I've
become during our lives together. My sisters have the total picture;
they remember when I wore hoot-owl glasses and corrective shoes.
As sisters, we even define ourselves by ourselves. I am the baby;
(my sisters would say the spoiled one, which proves they still lie.)
We think of our middle sister as the peacemaker, and the eldest
as the rebel. Our roles are comfortable; we've been typecast for
life. When grown-up sisters get together you can almost strip away
the conversation and see the little girls they used to be.
As an adult I now value my sister relationships. If you have
a sister and you haven't arrived there, I hope you will soon. The old
proverb, blood is thicker than water--they were talking about sister
blood. Life with her can be a complicated, competitive,
stormy experience--that evolves into a wonderful friendship. Maybe you
have a great relationship with your sister; maybe you're still
fighting. The fact remains, you can't escape shared history. In spite
of everything you love about her, and everything you don't, she lived
with you through the experiences that made you who you are. And that's
why you can say with me, "I love her, I love her not, I love her--(she's
my sister)."
Until next week...
Warm regards,
Shellie
P.S. If you have a sister that might enjoy these thoughts, or a friend
with a sister who could identify, I invite you to send our little chat
along. Happy thoughts to sisters everywhere!
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Volume I Issue VI
Hello. Welcome back to the porch. Today's conversation is
about southern courtesy, good manners, call it what you
want--is it myth or reality? That's my question.
A note from a subscriber this past weekend got me to thinking.
You see, I was pulling for my LSU tigers this past Saturday,
and Bill, a new friend and subscriber from Tennessee, was
pulling for his Vols. Leading up to the big game we had a
great time via email exchanging threats and bets. And then
my Tigers went down--hard. Glumly, I sat down at my computer,
hat in hand, to compose my letter to Bill with the proper
amount of humility. Bill's response was immediate and
gracious, allowing me plenty room to wiggle and even reminisce
about past Tiger victories. Small thing? Sure. Southern thing?
Maybe and maybe not, you tell me.
In the South, manners or the lack of them, are a direct
reflection on parents; lectures on proper etiquette begin
early. "Thank you", "please", "yes ma'am--no ma'am", the lessons
start simple, becoming more involved as the child matures.
Elbows on the table? Heaven forbid! And even the youngest
Southern children know not to leave the table without a
courteous reference to the cook, however short and sweet
it might be: "Thanks, Mom. That was good." Over the years the themes
graduate to more serious crimes: Never, but never, allow two
guests to remain in the same room without introducing them.
Are these teachings unique to our geographical region? Are some
states more gracious than others? Write me and submit your
anecdotes of growing up under the rules of southern graciousness,
courtesy and manners. (Maybe we'll make it a state to state
competition.) I'll print a few next week. Until then--
Hugs,
Shellie
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Volume I Issue VII
Welcome! Has it really been a week since we met here
on the porch? Come on in closer, but watch out for
everyone's toes. Thanks to all of you forwarding our chats
the porch is getting crowded! Not that I'm complaining! On
the contrary, I'm grateful. I really appreciate it.
I don't know what the weather is like in your corner of
the world, but it's beautiful where I am. Fall is one of my
favorite times of the year here in the Deep South. The days
are pleasant and the nights are cool.
Harvest is winding down, bringing a sense of relief to our
community that is almost audible. Almost all of our area
farmers have raced Mother Nature and won, successfully
bringing in their crops ahead of the winter rains. Now their
days are spent preparing the ground for next year.
Once again I saw many travelers pull over to the side
of our roads and highways these past few months to inspect
our crops up close. It was these people that inspired the
"Ag Products" page of my online store. If you have friends and
relatives outside our region, won't you tell
them where to find these souvenirs of our Delta's bounty?
I hope you enjoy this week's issue. The "Southern Exchange"
continues our discussion on good manners. Forgive me if I
didn't get your thoughts posted, I tried to strike an
interesting note with the variety.
Until next week...
Hugs,
Shellie
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Volume I Issue VIII
Hey everyone, welcome back to the porch! I wish I could
offer you all a glass of ice cold tea, but virtual
refreshment doesn't quite hit the spot, does it?
I appreciate everyone who has written in asking about
Phillip. (For those just joining us, my son is out for the rest
of the football season with an ACL injury.)
Phillip is hard at work rehabing the muscles around the knee
and his spirits are good. He's been measured for a new
brace and the doctors still think he has a good chance
of being able to put off surgery until after his baskeball
season! As for Mom, after years of holding my breath and
watching him quarterback--I can't get used to seeing him
standing on the sidelines, drying the ball between plays.
We lost Friday night. Bummer! It was an away game and the field
was located way too close to a cotton gin. Every now and then
when the wind got just right, the nasty smell of the gin trash
overwhelmed us. (Sidebar for my Yankee friends: Gin trash is
the refuse that comes from the cotton gin after the cotton is
processed. It's great fertilizer for your flower beds and
excellent at opening up your sinuses.) When our
Rebels lost, someone next to me commented wryly that the
night stunk all the way around.
Few things inspire as much passion in the south as the pigskin.
Football has been called a religion here, and for some that
might hold more than an once of truth. Rival teams prepare for
their opponents with boot camp intensity, while their fans
approach the pregame tail-gating festivities with the same careful
attention to detail. Don't miss the "Southern Recipe" if you're
planning to feast with your friends this weekend. I'm sending you
a great dip to get things started.
Here's hoping the rest of your season is a tremendous success,
unless of course, you're playing my Rebels...
Hugs,
Shellie
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Volume I Issue IX
Hey y'all, welcome back! Time to take a mid-week break for
a little porch talk. Just step over Old Rex there (he's
harmless) and have a seat. I've thrown a few soft pillows
around in the porch swing and rockers to help you get
comfortable.
I want to tell you about the interesting dinner party my
husband and I enjoyed this past weekend. The invitation came
from a client whose home I've recently helped to renovate.
(Sidebar: I run Interiors by Shellie for a living--this is just
my passion!) The setting was beautiful Lake Bruin in St.
Joseph, Louisiana. Now, the food was delicious, (remind me to
tell you about the food), but it was the mix of guests that
made the evening memorable.
Months ago the vision for the home's rebirth began to
take shape in Doug and Beverly Curtis' hearts. Saturday
evening was a christening, the happy homeowners way of saying
thanks to the many hands that helped see their dream become
a reality. At one time, dozens of people scurried inside and
out--hammering, building, painting, scrubbing, sanding, wiring,
and measuring. The guest list included them all.
After a few sincere words of appreciation from our hosts and
and a prayer of blessing we sat down to enjoy Doug's fabulous
prime rib, potatoe casserole, french bread and salad. Black
and white, contractor and cleaning lady, electrician and
designer; the conversation was as varied as the guest list!
This is the South I want to celebrate! Call it the New South,
call it the Old South, it doesn't much matter to me. But please,
take note of the people, the food and the hospitality. For this
is who we are. We are unique; we are southern.
Hugs,
Shellie
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Volume I Issue X
Hey friends--time for a porch break. Yes, it's been a whole
week since our last visit. I can't believe it either.
What's happening at your place? Chances are, if you're reading
this from the South, a strange phenomenon is about to overtake
the men in your home. Maybe it already has...
The symptons will come on with very little warning. One day
they'll be talking about football and harvesting their crops
and then--wham!
Their eyes will glass over and they'll begin to stockpile
ammunition. Closets and dresser drawers will be upended in an
effort to dig out everything camo they've ever owned. Of course,
whatever they find will be insufficient, forcing them to trek to
the nearest hunting store for supplies.
But, wait, there's an upside! Your men will begin to read
more--(hunting magazines). They might even help decorate the
house--(duck decoys, deer calls and Cabella boxes will
be strewn around carefully for that ecletic look).
My tongue is getting sore, so I'll pull it out of my cheek
and get on with the emag. But before I go, my husband wants
everyone to know there is still time to rent a duck blind on
our family farm. You can email Phil for more info,
tomtom@bayou.com. Also, don't forget, there are some great
hunting and fishing gifts for the outdoorsmen at my online
store, http://www.allthingssouthern.com. Check them out today.
It's a wonderful time of year. Enjoy it!
Hugs,
Shellie
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Volume I Issue XI
It's about time y'all got back; I've been standing at the screen door watching for you. Let's sit a spell on the
porch and catch up. By the way, thanks to everyone who has been writing in occasionally with ideas and thoughts for the "Southern Exchange"--it makes this a real conversation we
have here and not just me jawing each week. I'm worried about some of you folks, though, you don't seem to have
much to say...and we know that's not southern. ~smile~
I hope you had a nice weekend; we had a great one! Our
oldest child, Jessica , came in for the weekend from LSU. It's always good to see her little black Camry wheel into
the carport.
Jessica loves to cook. Her dad and I wanted to take her out Saturday night but she chose to invite her grandparents
over and cook supper for us all.
She planned the menu, shopped for the groceries and prepared
the meal with careful attention to the details. Watching her that evening, I thought about her strong notion of family,
and the delight she seemed to get from serving good food in abundance.
"Yep," I said to myself, "that child is southern--through and through."
I had fun putting the emag together this week. I hope you enjoy it. Remember, I'd love to hear from you. Help me celebrate our southern culture. Whether you have a favorite recipe, a chuckle, or just special memories--write me!tomtom@allthingssouthern.com
Hugs,
Shellie
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Volume I Issue XII
Yea! It's Thursday, and that means Porch Time. Welcome back!
One of my subscribers has suggested a name for our little community. How does Coon Creek sound to you? It's growing on me...
Billy Joe McAllister might have jumped off the Talahatchie Bridge a long time before author John Shelton Reed began writing about
the South, but they do have one thing in common--double first names.
Some people suggest that double names are popular in the South
because our family ties are tighter and there are so many aunts and grandmas, uncles and papaws to name the children after that
we're forced to double up. I'll buy that in part, but I'm reminded of something Mark Twain once said,"Southerners talk music."
I'm just as prone to believe that the lyrical quality of all those Mary Beths, Leslee Annes, and John Tylers continue to appeal
to the Southerner's appreciation of cadence and rhythm.
In addition, I suspect that long ago southern mothers recognized
the benefit of the "dire double" when it comes to discipline. My sisters and I knew it was bad when we heard the double name roll
call. Years later I succumbed to the same temptation with my own children. When I needed to issue an ultimatum "Jessica" didn't
sound half as threatening as "Jessica Ann".
Maybe it would be fun to use double names on our porch--just for
a little while at least. I think I'll start us off in my closing
tag and when you write in to the Southern Exchange I'll post yours,
(with your permission of course).
I hope you enjoy this week's emag. Boudreaux is back in the "Chuckles"
feature. I can't help loving that spunky Cajun!
Hugs,
Shellie Charlene
P.S. This Sunday, November the 18th from 3:00 to 5:00 p.m., I'll
be signing copies of my memoir, "Lessons Learned on Bull Run Road"
at "Turning Pages" Bookstore in Natchez, Mississippi. If any of you
are in the area, please come out and visit. I'd love to meet you!
Click here for Publisher's Archive--Page Two
