Cilla McCain's Blog, page 4

Harper Lee to Publish Second Book!

      Harper Lee has finally agreed to allow Harper Collins to publish her second book. The book "Go Set a Watchman" is scheduled to release in July 2015. In a statement, Lee talks about Watchman's unusual road to publication. " "In the mid-1950s, I completed a novel called `Go Set a Watchman,'" the 88-year-old Lee said in a statement issued by Harper. "It features the character known as Scout as an adult woman, and I thought it a pretty decent effort. My editor, who was taken by the flashbacks

Back Off Cowards - American Sniper Chris Kyle Was No Psychopath!

    Well, Lord knows I tried to keep my mouth shut about these talking heads and their views of Chris Kyle's story "American Sniper." But to hell with that. There is no way anyone ANYONE can accurately sit back in their plush seats looking into a television camera and legitimately judge the actions of our soldiers. The fact of the matter is that human beings were not designed to kill and unless you have walked a mile in their heavy, soul burdened shoes, you have no right to say a word.  Chris

Dianna Haney: When Soldiers Say Goodbye

In honor of Veteran's Day I'd like to share this beautiful piece written by my friend Dianna Edwards Haney for the Rome News Tribune. Dianna is not only a writer with an original heart and insightful style, she's also a top knotch editor with whom I'm looking forward to working with in the future.  Like me, Dianna has a soft spot for our soldiers. Her poignant story moved me to tears and speaks volumes about the impenetrable bond of brotherhood shared between soldiers who have endured war

Tracking a Murderer Amid Bricks of Cash in Iraq

Stuart Bowen is a good friend and wonderful ally. His work to recover money taken from American taxpayers and go missing in Iraq was a gargantuan task. This piece by James Risen in the Boston Globe demonstrates the deep level of deceit perpetuated during and after the Iraq war. In it, Stuart reveals the long held secret that his office actually found some of the missing money inside of a bunker in rural Lebanon. American officials refused to go after it because they considered it "Iraq's money

Writing with Music: John Mellencamp Grew Up

Anyone who knows me is aware that I write with my favorite music playing in the background and rewrite in silence. I'm in awe of great singer/songwriters and choose my writing music according to the mood of the pages I'm working on.  This process draws out of me what I need to create.    I must point out that I usually don't consider anything in the Top 40 "great" (you have to be seasoned to make my personal list of greatness).   Recently, I came across this article on Billboard where John

JFK, Dr. Cyril Wecht and Colonel Philip Shue

  While writing the real life psychological thriller about Colonel Philip Michael Shue, I've had the distinct advantage of working with and learning from some of the greatest forensic and criminal investigators in the world.One of them is Dr. Cyril Wecht. In 1978, Dr. Wecht testified in front of the House Select Committee on Assassinations against the single bullet theory of the Warren Commission's report on the assassination of President Kennedy. He was the only one who had the guts to do so

Truman Capote

I aspired to be Truman Capote long before I read any of his works or even knew his name. This is because as far back as I can remember, I wanted to write a true story that read like an engaging novel. As a young girl I wrote short stories about things that happened around me and I modeled them after the fictional story books I read. I thought I was doing something unheard of. I didn't know that somebody had already accomplished this feat until I was in my early teens and read Truman Capote's In

Rediscovering "A Love Song for Bobby Long"

I love the movie "A Love Song for Bobby Long (2004)." Like the book, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers, it deals with the invisible people most just pass by or only notice with a curled up "I smell something" kind of stare.   The movie is inspired by the novel Off Magazine Street by Ronald Everett Capps. It centers around 18-year-old Pursy, who was named after the weed, Purslane. Pursy moves into her deceased mother's dilapidated house in Louisiana and discovers two broken and

Sally, Mary Jane, Panama Jack and the Devil

Old Dixie Highway

On my way home to Georgia, after Spring break in Florida (I won’t name the exact year thank you very much) my skin was sunburned beyond belief. Why I thought slathering Panama Jack oil on my lily white skin would magically transform me into a tanned goddess, I have no idea. Then again, that’s probably what the bottle claimed to do and back then SPF of any level was something to be avoided, much like a hangover in church. But I digress.

I was riding in the car with my friend Sally – and somebody else whose name I think was Mary Jane – when we pulled onto the dirt and gravel parking lot of a convenience store somewhere on the Georgia-Florida line. I was laying in the backseat of Sally’s Toyota, in so much pain from the burn that I declined the opportunity to go to the bathroom. Besides, I think I may have been stuck to the leather seats.

As Sally ran into the store, the radio was playing Charlie Daniel’s song “The Devil Went Down to Georgia.” It had reached number one the year before, but it was still on southern radio stations every hour on the hour. He was probably at the height of his popularity. I loved listening to Charlie Daniels, but I loved watching him make music even more – his ferocious fiddle playing enthralls me. Anyway, the sun was beaming in through the side and back windshield as I lay there thinking about how my Mama was going to throw a hissy fit at the sight of my blistering skin. The last thing she told me as I threw my bikini into my suitcase was to use the sunscreen she bought me. Even before it was popular, Mama admonished getting too much sun. But no, I’ve always had to go against the grain, so when Sally and I got to Florida, we promptly picked up the Panama Jack. The sun was heating my cooked skin, and I was cussing under my breath, when a long, black shadow provided relief. I could hear the hissing of a bus coming to a halt as it towered next to the Toyota. “Thank the Lord.” I thought.

In a moment, I shit you not, Sally came running toward the car telling me to “Get up Cilla, get up, Charlie Daniel’s is parked right next to us. Get up!” But I couldn’t move. When I tell you I had a bad sunburn, I ain’t whistling Dixie, I needed to be at the hospital. From my vantage point, all I could see was the long silver side paneling of the bus. Every now and then, I’d see somebody’s ass and legs walking quickly by the window of the Toyota toaster oven I was stuck in.

All the way into Georgia, Sally, was chattering away about getting Charlie’s autograph and telling me how sorry she was for my not being able to get out of the car. I looked at her slightly pink skin and wanted to throw the sweaty towel I was lying on in her perky face.

When I walked in the house, I left my bag in the foyer and slowly, stiffly walked toward my bedroom. Mother was in the shower hollering “Cilla honey, you home sugar? Come on in here and let me see your tan.” I didn’t answer; it took all I had to walk.

In case you’re wondering, Mama did throw a hissy fit. Even though I didn’t get to meet Charlie that day, Mama took me to the doctor who prescribed some great pain pills that had me moving around and laughing by dinner.

What’s the moral of this story? Don’t spend two days on the beach with Sally, Mary Jane, and some dude named Panama Jack cause the Devil may sneak up on you.

p.s. To this day, I never leave the house without sunscreen and I’ve never seen Mary Jane again. I also have a story about running into Willie Nelson at a grocery store but I’ll save that for another day.

Rediscovering “A Love Song for Bobby Long”

I love the movie “A Love Song for Bobby Long (2004).” Like the book, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter by Carson McCullers, it deals with the invisible people most just pass by or only notice with a curled up “I smell something” kind of stare.

The movie is inspired by the novel Off Magazine Street by Ronald Everett Capps. It centers around 18-year-old Pursy, who was named after the weed, Purslane. Pursy moves into her deceased mother’s dilapidated house in Louisiana and discovers two broken and well-read drunks Bobby Long and his protege’ Gabriel. Pursy is disgusted by the mere sight of these no account drunks, but soon realizes there is much more to these invisible people the world has thrown away.

Hell, even the negative reviews this movie received demonstrate a fascination with the South. When Stephen Holden of the NY Times bashed it, it was with undisclosed envy: “Another example of Hollywood’s going soft and squishy when it goes South.” Holden wrote. “Southerners’ blood is redder and richer than everyone else’s, we are asked to believe, and their secrets are darker.”

Damn straight Holden.