Jan Fink

Goodreads Author


Born
in Tuscaloosa, The United States
December 05, 1949

Website

Genre

Member Since
November 2014

URL


Jan Fink is a Southern Gothic writer who has worked as a reporter, columnist, and feature writer. She writes about the South she loves, its people, and both the light and the dark sides of Southern life.


Average rating: 4.47 · 15 ratings · 9 reviews · 2 distinct worksSimilar authors
Tales from a Strange Southe...

4.43 avg rating — 14 ratings — published 2014 — 2 editions
Rate this book
Clear rating
Licking The Salt Block

it was amazing 5.00 avg rating — 1 rating
Rate this book
Clear rating

* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.

Upcoming Events

No scheduled events. Add an event.

Jan’s Recent Updates

Jan Fink is now friends with Espen
9247815
Jan Fink wants to read
Licking The Salt Block by Jan Fink
Licking The Salt Block
by Jan Fink (Goodreads Author)
Rate this book
Clear rating
Jan Fink shared a quote
Licking The Salt Block by Jan Fink
“With spring came heavy rain. It was in the muck and mud of six days of downpour while milking Li’l Belle that I heard him approach. I waited and listened to the rain hitting the tin roof of the lean-to and the sound of his boots. With each step his boots made an air-sucking sound as he pulled them free of the mud. I counted the sound of his footsteps one by one ’til I knew he was a few yards away. Only then did I rise from the milking stool and turn to him. He stood there outside smiling and pulled one boot free of the mud, his arms outstretched, balancing himself like a tightrope walker.
“Hey, Larraine. Look what you made me do. Made me ruin my best shirt and good pair of boots trying to sneak up on you. I just want to ask you some questions. You know what I’m talking about, girl? That little queer, Johnny Redboots?”
He took off his shirt, held it up, attempted to wring the rainwater from it then laughed and threw it in the mud near the lean-to. I stood quiet with one hand on the rop
...more
Jan Fink
Jan Fink shared a quote
Tales from a Strange Southern Lady by Jan Fink
“I can’t tell you what I look like. I look in the mirror and see
nothing but space. Space reflecting space, that’s what the
mirror shows. It figures because Grandmamma said I was
nothing but dirt. Dirt under her feet she’d say. Dirt she needed
to keep kicking out of the way. Grandmamma said I wasn’t
sweeping-up kind of dirt; I was the kind of dirt you needed to
kick and scrape off the bottom of your shoes.”
Jan Fink
More of Jan's books…
“I can’t tell you what I look like. I look in the mirror and see
nothing but space. Space reflecting space, that’s what the
mirror shows. It figures because Grandmamma said I was
nothing but dirt. Dirt under her feet she’d say. Dirt she needed
to keep kicking out of the way. Grandmamma said I wasn’t
sweeping-up kind of dirt; I was the kind of dirt you needed to
kick and scrape off the bottom of your shoes.”
Jan Fink, Tales from a Strange Southern Lady

“With spring came heavy rain. It was in the muck and mud of six days of downpour while milking Li’l Belle that I heard him approach. I waited and listened to the rain hitting the tin roof of the lean-to and the sound of his boots. With each step his boots made an air-sucking sound as he pulled them free of the mud. I counted the sound of his footsteps one by one ’til I knew he was a few yards away. Only then did I rise from the milking stool and turn to him. He stood there outside smiling and pulled one boot free of the mud, his arms outstretched, balancing himself like a tightrope walker.
“Hey, Larraine. Look what you made me do. Made me ruin my best shirt and good pair of boots trying to sneak up on you. I just want to ask you some questions. You know what I’m talking about, girl? That little queer, Johnny Redboots?”
He took off his shirt, held it up, attempted to wring the rainwater from it then laughed and threw it in the mud near the lean-to. I stood quiet with one hand on the rope strap of the shotgun and the other hand resting on Li’l Belle’s back. Li’l Belle moved from side to side, restless and wanting free of the lean-to.”
Jan Fink, Licking The Salt Block

“We entered the grove, and a few yards in, the trees opened to another clearing. In the center was a Sunbeam bread truck, the tires missing, mounted on cinder blocks. It had to have been from the 50s. Little Miss Sunbeam, blond curls framing her face, looking down from the side of the truck with one blue eye. The other missing, replaced by a large spot of rust. Innocent and poised, forever taking a bite out of a piece of buttered white bread. The slogan above her head, Reach for Sunbeam! ENERGY-PACKED! Under Miss Sunbeam the truck was lined and stacked head high with crosses of all sizes, the artificial flowers attached to them faded by the sun. I realized they were roadside crosses, many I recognized that were placed at accident scenes along Death Road and disappeared shortly after. An eighteen-foot four-by-four utility pole and meter leaned dangerously inward toward the truck, anchored by nothing but mud and rocks after the rain. A deep cast iron pot sat a few feet in front of the truck surrounded by ashes, bits of charred wood and odd shaped tree stumps.”
Jan Fink, Tales from a Strange Southern Lady

“With spring came heavy rain. It was in the muck and mud of six days of downpour while milking Li’l Belle that I heard him approach. I waited and listened to the rain hitting the tin roof of the lean-to and the sound of his boots. With each step his boots made an air-sucking sound as he pulled them free of the mud. I counted the sound of his footsteps one by one ’til I knew he was a few yards away. Only then did I rise from the milking stool and turn to him. He stood there outside smiling and pulled one boot free of the mud, his arms outstretched, balancing himself like a tightrope walker.
“Hey, Larraine. Look what you made me do. Made me ruin my best shirt and good pair of boots trying to sneak up on you. I just want to ask you some questions. You know what I’m talking about, girl? That little queer, Johnny Redboots?”
He took off his shirt, held it up, attempted to wring the rainwater from it then laughed and threw it in the mud near the lean-to. I stood quiet with one hand on the rope strap of the shotgun and the other hand resting on Li’l Belle’s back. Li’l Belle moved from side to side, restless and wanting free of the lean-to.”
Jan Fink, Licking The Salt Block

“I can’t tell you what I look like. I look in the mirror and see
nothing but space. Space reflecting space, that’s what the
mirror shows. It figures because Grandmamma said I was
nothing but dirt. Dirt under her feet she’d say. Dirt she needed
to keep kicking out of the way. Grandmamma said I wasn’t
sweeping-up kind of dirt; I was the kind of dirt you needed to
kick and scrape off the bottom of your shoes.”
Jan Fink, Tales from a Strange Southern Lady




No comments have been added yet.