Jill S. Alexander
An interest in novels came late for me in my rural East Texas hometown. With no public library and few books, save one full set of encyclopedias, I learned poetry from church hymnals and storytelling from eccentric relatives. Captivated by country music's story-songs coming across my grandfather's AM radio after the morning farm report, I began writing out the lyrics and creating my own as early as second grade. At age 12, I went to work bussing tables at the local truck stop on weekends and the all-you-can-eat catfish joint at night. With the restaurants located by the interstate, I met colorful folks from all walks of life traveling to places I had only read about in encyclopedias.
Having developed a love for reading fiction in high school, I combined that with my passion for storytelling and focused my college studies on literature and creative writing.
THE SWEETHEART OF PROSPER COUNTY is my debut novel.
“In his arms, I slowly unfolded like a love note read in secret.”
“Do the thing you love to do. Hank Williams died at the ripe old age of twentynine. Stevie Ray Vaughan at thirty-five. Jesus at thirtythree. Don’t think you’re special and the Lord’s gonna bless you with time.”
“The most beautiful part of the day isn´t always the brightest.”
“All I'm saying is, you've never alone, and God made everyone unique with different gifts. Now that's not to say it doesn't sting a little when someone points yours out.”
“As if my day couldn't get any worse, I was about to be preached to by an Evangelical Elvis impersonator.”
“Kiwi man– hairy on the outside, slimy on the inside.”
“Do you not see the tragic irony in killing Rudolph to get into the Christmas parade?”
“To me, sympathy was like alcohol on a scraped knee. It didn't really heal anything; it just made the injury sting.”
“Maribel was dancing a dream I could only dream to dance.”