Janice Daugharty: 71 books

Sissy, 6, and Jim, 8, have been sent to their father, the community drunk, for the summer, hoping to find food and a kind word from the man they barely know. Always hungry, obviously unwanted, Sissy repeats "Thank the Lord" at every meal, which their grandmother, aunt and uncle find obnoxious....

REVISED: Like "Fried Green Tomatoes," this short novel explores a town's misjudgment of two spirited young women, one an insider and the other an outsider. Following 9-11, 2001, and the attacks on the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, the residents of Statenville, Georgia are edgy and eager...

My niece Shanna called me on the phone. I thought we had a bad connection. "What's that background racket?" I asked. "Oh," she said, "that's the little shovel on my lap scraping against the table." "Why do you have a shovel on your lap?" I asked. "Well,...

A young bride in 1963, my friendly new neighbors showered me with Castor Bean seeds. Nobody knew then that the seeds contained Ricin. They were just tall exotic plants, free for the sharing. Later I learned how toxic the seeds are and wondered how many had been carried downstream to Florida by the Alapaha River. But that was a different time--that was before the grasshopper became a burden.

Miss Faye is recovering from a broken hip. Sick of the physical therapy session, in which a bunch of old people are tossing a big yellow ball, she wheels her chair from the room, and keeps wheeling it till she is sitting outside the hospital. Not her fault that a cab driver named Stinker mistakes her for his fare. A whole day with Stinker teaches her what happens when you don't play ball.

Where did the Dixie Chics disappear to for a while, and why did they disappear? Who decides who get to be little and big in entertainment? Here's what this author thinks...

I'm likely to be proved a liar for believing that life gets easier, if not sweeter, with the passing of time. I remember the old days, the hard times, and can't help thinking that progression of time brings us closer to that place of everlasting rest.

I know what it's like to be on the receiving end of mercy; I know what it's like to be hungry and broke. I couldn't scrap up enough change from my Gucci purse to buy even a drink. The fast food manager discounted my food 100%. The Spirit was moving among us in a most unlikely place.

If you miss your grown children and think you'd like another chance to get it right, read this personal essay. Maybe you would like child-raising to be a little easier this go round--read "Real Dolls." Maybe you have a grandchild (or grandchildren) who you don't get to see that often--well,...

Autumn is on the way to South Georgia, bringing with it changes in our backyard corn patch. Already, the corn stalks are drying in blowing poses, shaped by some hidden hand during the magic of midnight. From spring to fall I watch for changes in the cube of corn--my cows watch too.

They come and go, the birds flying over our farmplace in South Georgia. We feed them, we watch them, we carry on about them. This year however, because of the Asian Bird Flu scare I'm hoping they will have forgotten our Southern hospitality.

Young lovers in the 1960s, my boyfriend and I sinned all week; on Sundays, I repented. He was a boy so didn't have to. With nothing much to do in our woodsy home county, we visited the area churches on Sunday. What we heard didn't really pertain because we were young and in love and couldn't die. Heaven and hell were for old people. We were eager to be alone, together in my boyfriend's car.

An Atlanta newspaper reporter, looking for a story, reveals the secret history of the smallest county in Georgia. Facts unleashed, the resident natives become suspicious of one another and the origins of the old-name families.

Kneeling in the tiny, enclosed courtyard of her Atlanta townhouse, my friend was tying neat bundles of twigs from a massive wisteria vine she'd been gradually dismantling. "Why don't you just toss the mess over that wall?" I asked, pointing behind her. "Because," she said, "that's...