I like words.

I like words to be all romantic and script-y and pithy and hung around my house.

I like to string words together and make stories and images and memories that live and move and breathe in the confines of the imagination.

I like to read words penned by the greats and the not so greats.

I like to take someone else’s words and shake them until the story sings a melody that only someone else could have written but only I could have found.

This blog is my story, my song, for the tone-deaf girl who’s always felt a bit awkward and out of place in this world.  These are my words for the dreamy big sister, who became an idealistic teacher, who became a harrowed mother, who learned to embrace life.

And Grace, Faith, and Hope which came in the forms of three sassy daughters. They readied our family for our only little boy mischief-teer, and he readied my heart for a whole wide world of surprises and unknowns.

For our God always gives immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine (Ephesians 3:21).

Just write life.

These are the words the Lord whispered upon my heart when I searched and sought and tried to put myself into a box, a platform, a cliche that wouldn’t close. Just write life–all its messy mundane magnificence.

So I do. I write five-hundred words every  week in little columns for little newspapers with big reach. I write about anything and everything here on this blog. I write with the influence of growing up in the rural South, with the bloodline of the Lowcountry and the red clay of the foothills, that voice creeping into my fiction that’s short and long and has won a few accolades.

I write alongside mugs of strong coffee and glasses of sweet tea. I write on the back porch of our still-new-to-us house. I write when my children sleep, when they play, when dinner is on the stove, and when I would almost rather fold the mismatched socks than wrestle with words.

I write because I can and because I can’t.

I am a wife to the most patient man who loves me more than I deserve. I am a mother to the most impatient children who forgive me more than I deserve. I am a writer to the people who believe love lingers in the most unlikely of places.

I am humbled to have you join me in this place and along this journey.

Lindsey P. Brackett has read obituaries on the radio, conned seventh graders into reading Shakespeare, and directed musicals despite not having the ability to sing or dance. When she’s not teaching her middle school drama classes or following her own kids around town, she’s writing southern fiction infused with her rural Georgia upbringing and Lowcountry South Carolina roots. Her debut novel, Still Waters, was an INSPY Finalist and 2018 Selah Book of the Year.

Her articles and short stories have appeared in various publications including Southern Writers Magazine, Country Living, and Georgia Magazine. Her popular column, Just Write Life, is syndicated in local North Georgia newspapers. You can also find her podcasting at A Rough Draft Life with novelist Kristi Ann Hunter and stress-cooking on Instagram as @lindseyprackett.

Lindsey makes her home at the foothills of Appalachia with her husband and their four amazing kids. They lose library books, make homemade pizza, and chase waterfalls.

Contact her on social media or email: lindsey@lindseypbrackett.com.

She’d much rather talk to you than wash the dishes.

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