The F in "F-list" stands for "focus group," right?
I sent out some of the WIP to my beta-readers a few days ago. (Currently called The Drowned Forest, which I hope I get to keep.) I hate showing stuff to anybody until it's polished, but this book has been--for me, at least--heading into uncharted territory on several levels, and I wanted some reactions to that before forging ahead.

One of the questions that's come up is how much "Southernness" the thing has. How much can I steep the story in traditions and culture without confusing, or even losing, readers who weren't raised in rural Alabama.

So here's my request: read this bit from the WIP and, particularly if you don't live in the Southeastern United States, tell me what's happening. (The answer and more on the subject to follow.)

Pastor Wesley stands knee-deep in the river, arms reaching toward the new converts on the bank. Sunlight reflects off the water. It ripples in his open hands and against the white robes of the converts.
“So we’ve come, just as they did, down by the riverside. To accept our helplessness without Him. To lay down our burdens. For Him to pick up.”

We who’ve come to witness let out shouts of praise to punctuate the Good News. Chase, beneath the crooked claw of an oak tree’s branches, plucks the opening hook on his guitar. It’s that hook, the one we all know from our own baptisms and every Rivercall since. This song is in our bones.

Gonna lay down my heavy load down by the riverside. Down by the riverside. Down by the riverside. I’m gonna lay down my heavy load…

Pastor Wesley’s words sink under our singing. Hands clap and bodies sway with the tall grass around us. Faye, a bouncing ball of excitement and taffeta, jumps around to a rhythm all her own.

Gonna put on my long white robe down by the riverside. Down by the riverside. Down by the riverside. I’m gonna put on my long white robe…