Trying to figure out the next stage in my writing experiment, I recently exhumed some of my favorite research on a  little town called Bayou Sara.  I discovered this forgotten gem when we lived in Baton Rouge several years back.  Bayou Sara was a busy, lively river port near St. Francisville in West Feliciana Parish.  Through a series of unfortunate calamities, the town eventually disappeared.  Quite literally, actually. It sank back into the muddy banks of the Mississippi, and nothing exists of it today except some old photographs, and the rich history of interesting characters and events to be found in a dusty museum.  It captured my fancy all those years ago, and has been an itch I’ve always wanted to scratch.

Especially lately.

And this… well, it feels like something I know.  And you know what they say.  Write what you know.

I am a Mississippi girl.  Her steady waters have flowed silently through the landscape of my entire life.  I get her.  I know her.  I can write her, I think.  At least, I’ve got to try.

So, that’s where I am.  That’s what I’m doing.  Studying and thinking and revisiting the past.  Figuring out what Bayou Sara has to say, and if I am up to the telling.

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