Nope. Not rewriting those remaining three old books. Though there’s nothing wrong with the stories themselves, there’s everything wrong with the way I wrote them. I packed them up and laid them to rest in the back shed.

Someday I really need to clean out that back shed.

One fun thing: I found a saying of my great-grandmother South’s, as told me by one of my uncles. Whistling girls and crowing hens always come to some bad end.

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