A Short Story: “Clean Nets”

Book News:

In just a few minutes, I’m leaving my motel in Grapevine to drive to my signing at the Books-A-Million in Sherman, Texas. Other than its name, Sherman is a really cool city. It’s growing too. I’ll spend the night with my parents in their cellphone-dead and Internet void zone and be home in Monroe sometime Sunday. This nomad writing life is giving me tons of ideas for stories. The driving time is giving me time to think, to plan, to listen to music or books on CD. For today’s post, since I’m near the Red River, I thought I’d post a short story I wrote. It’s still a work in progress.


Ever since Indian Territory days, my family has fished this Red River. Mama says there ain’t no call for us to be ashamed of it neither. She says the first apostles were fishermen, and that if fishermen are good enough for Jesus, then the rest of the world will just have to accept us too.

When they finished the Lake Texoma dam in 1944, the river changed, and our family had to change with it. Now, most of our fishing time is spent on the lake. We also started guiding some, helping those tourists with more money than sense to catch sandbass or stripers, or get them to some ducks and geese in hunting season. They’re surprised we ain