Just in: I'm in my hometown, sitting outside of a Starbucks doing rewrites and edits, enjoying the warm summer day, sipping some good old, mass produced coffee. In front of me is a group of girls, by their conversation, are of high school age. Outside of that, I don't know what they're talking about.
A lady walks by with her dawg and stops, looks over at the girls, and backs up. "What are you girls reading?"
The brunette says, "Jesus Calls."
Filling with pride, tha dawg lady says, "You go gurl. And youth, too! I wanna see your TV show. Jesus is the one. Remember him."
I laugh because my book is full of characters that look like Satan: webbed wings, fangs, claws, with feet able to perch on branches. There's a small urge to show them and dawg lady a picture of whom I'm writing about, but I never make fun of religious cults to their faces. That's a lie.