A few years back, I was in my kitchen in New Jersey, chatting with a friend about summer plans. Out of the blue, she laughed and asked, “Did you just say ‘Joo-ly’?”
“What? July,” I repeated.
She chuckled even harder. “Yes, you did. Joo-ly!”
I could see she imagined me in a cornfield with straw in my mouth, but that’s just fine. Her laughter confirmed something I had long known, even though I needed to move north to attend my first pig races: I am proudly Southern. I don’t mean South Jersey, I mean the real South. Where people say y’all, have cheese grits and Jimmy Dean sausage in their veins, add bacon grease to almost every vegetable, and chat about their kids while picking watermelons at Harris Teeter’s produce. Where Christmas can be thirty degrees or eighty, and you say “Joo-ly.”
But what does this mean for my writing?
Words are crucial, obviously. Yet, as an author, it’s more about how I use them than how I pronounce them—unless I’m producing my own audiobooks. Even then, my goal isn’t to fill my pages with clichés like “Well, bless your heart!” What separates an amateur boxer from a champion is his ability to land punches precisely, repeatedly, to knock out his opponent. That’s my goal: to knock out my readers with my unique Southern fiction, not just Southern diction. To deliver consistently, so that when each chapter ends, readers think, “Now, that’s a Southern writer.”
So how do I accomplish this? With love, dear reader.
If you visit me unannounced, you’ll never know you weren’t expected. I’ll greet you with a hug, pour you sweet tea, and ask about your family. I’ll listen to your troubles, hold your hand, or pat your shoulder because I can’t help myself. I’ll pray with you because my faith fuels my love. After you finish your tea and set down your glass, I’ll walk you to the door, hug you again, and say, “Tell your mama I asked about her!” before I close the door, take a deep breath, and change back into my pajamas.
This is exactly how Southern fiction works. It reaches out and connects with you, right to your soul. It takes you to church, touches you deeply, welcomes and holds you before ending the visit perfectly. Each story has a character who reminds you of a cousin you played with, a neighbor who let you fetch your ball, a sermon that spoke to you, or a grandma who either smothered you in kisses or gave you a swat—whatever you needed.
This natural warmth stems from our Southern setting. We bask in the sun’s love longer each year, wear fewer clothes, and receive more hugs. We don’t shy away from hugs; they’re as common as a wave or a handshake.
Our affection also comes from our geography, another key element of Southern fiction. Think weeping willows, crepe myrtles, flowering dogwoods, and palmettos. Myrtle Beach, the Outer Banks, the Gulf. The Smoky Mountains, Low Country, bayous, and North Carolina clay. Cotton fields, soybeans, peach orchards, and pecan trees. Heat, humidity, thunderstorms, long summers, and short winters. Front porches, tire swings, and gravel roads.
Of course, we shouldn’t forget New Orleans’ skyline, Charlotte’s banking district, and Atlanta’s rush-hour traffic. Coliseums, art museums, science centers, and top universities. Football, baseball, and championship hockey teams. Strip malls, modern condos, and Chipotle. Painting a full Southern picture is more than a Louisiana plantation and November flip-flops.
Besides, my writing needs to taste Southern. Like everywhere else, our food mirrors our history and culture—think po’boys, grits, pound cake, greens, and fried pork chops. What, why, and how we eat tells a story. Just ask Beatrice Agnew, the main character in my debut book, A Long Time Comin’. Like my mother, she shows love through food, and you return that love by cleaning your plate and wanting more. My Southern fiction tickles the taste buds from the first chapter, with no room for calorie counting.
So what makes Southern fiction truly Southern? It’s the warmth of the sun, the beauty of the setting, and the spirit inviting readers to sit and stay awhile. It’s the shared history, the distinct way we speak, and the heart and soul we pour into our words.
Robin W. Pearson’s writing reflects her Southern roots and her love for her husband and seven children. This love brings authenticity to her debut novel, A Long Time Comin’. A Wake Forest University graduate, she started as an editor with Houghton Mifflin Company 25 years ago and has freelanced for various publications and educational resources. Follow her blog, Mommy, Concentrated, where she shares her journey in faith, family, and freelancing.
In A Long Time Comin’, Beatrice Agnew is determined to keep her secrets hidden, despite discovering she is dying. Her granddaughter, Evelyn Lester, visits her, aiming to mend family ties. Through Evelyn’s meddling and old letters, both women confront their past.
