Growing up Dead in Texas

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Greenwood, Texas It's where I grew up. And that's me on the cover, my little brother behind me. That's a pecan orchard we lived in for two or three months. It was the best place ever: our trailer was a double-wide, but it was one of those ones that's only half-long. Lke a single trailer that had been cut in half, folded back on itself so it was like a square now, almost. We lived there across one winter, and that was the first winter I remember that we got snow. These big fat flakes falling on New Year's night. We were playing Risk inside, but kept coming out to watch these snowflakes melt on our hands. Like I said: the best place ever. But, Greenwood: when I lived there we didn't have a post office. Not sure if they do now. And, everything, it was either farming or it was basketball. Well, and trucks. Always trucks. And, as for a synopsis, man. I'm going to start telling the whole novel from page one if you get me started. So, how about the tagline from MP Publishing's page? An investigation of the places we're from, and the places we still live when we close our eyes, Growing Up Dead in Texas explores small-town life, family, and what it really means to go home. Just hit that link to go a more full write-up. Anyway, I know I've been horror horror horror these past few years, and I still am, always will be. But this isn't.  . . . → → →