Author’s Note - Where the Truth Lies

As a twenty-six-year-old woman, I had an undepleted girlish energy that allowed me the capability of living a life and writing about it at the same time. Astounding. Thus a majority of what follows was scrawled by this scrivener as it occurred in the 1970s, often within hours of the events described, the alphabetic characters and my own character being formed in the same moment and the same manner: recklessly, hastily, often indecipherably. However, I eventually came to realize that I could not publish any of what I’d written until at least one person who figures in this narrative had died. (It’s nice to have something to look forward to, don’t you think?) It was not, in fact, until this year that these pages could be printed, along with certain other writings that bear closely upon a story I’ve wished to tell for so very long.

I must admit I’m somewhat alarmed by the naïveté I display in some of these pages, as well as the chauvinism of not only others but myself. Things were simply very different then.

I will also confess outright that I have occasionally touched up what I wrote (though perhaps you will think I have not touched up enough). Having admitted this, let me rush to add that most of what follows is worded as I first inscribed it, with only some proper names and present tenses changed. My Prose Nouveau (being of a vintage frequently purple, with a tart finish) remains largely as it was, to my immense mortification and, hopefully, your mild amusement.

The writings of Lanny Morris and related material derived from my conversations with Vince Collins are reproduced here by express agreement and may not be used without written permission.

Kerry O’Connor

Kiawah Island, S.C.