Hey NETFLIX!

There’s a woman I know who has inspired me to do things, good and bad, for something like fifty years. As I type this, half a dozen women are silently praying, “I hope it’s not me!”

She also inspired at least fifty percent of my friends and fraternity brothers to fall hopelessly in love with her. She’ll deny it’s that many, but she lies. I’ve always had a pretty strict rule about not crossing streams with guys I was bound to, either by fraternal oaths, the spirit of teammates, or just friendship. There have been some close calls, but so far, I’m in the good.

That doesn’t mean I’ve never tried to be Mr.-Steal-Yo-Girl. I just wouldn’t do it to guys I liked. There are a few out there who can attest to that. Fair is fair, though; they did it to me, too.

In a place like Mississippi, there are always about twenty girls that everybody wants but nobody gets. The girls find somebody they didn’t expect, and the guys do too, and it all works out. I, myself, would never have gotten married had I not liked the guy who would be my father-in-law so much. He made the whole “would you marry me?” thing seem a lot more palatable.

Still, I should have put off saying “sure!” a few years. I don’t talk to her anymore, but I sure do wish I could talk to him. He doesn’t call so much anymore since he died. I wish he could.

There was a girl from Canton that I was absolutely taken with, but so were all the guys I knew. Even though we’d been to some formal affairs together, I was convinced she was too pretty for me, and I could feel the hungry hounds nipping at my heels for their chance with her, so I quit calling. I kind of wish now I had planted a flag and fought for her. She ended up with a PHD in business administration. I have no defense against smart girls.

The friend I spoke with yesterday was one of the first girls I noticed might be more than just an adversary in the fourth grade, when the possibility that girls might one day become women occurred to me. She has, without question, the prettiest eyes I’ve ever known. I’ve never told her that. Maybe she’ll read this. I got distracted by a girl who could almost outwrestle me, and that was that.

Her idea was simple: I should take all the stories I write about Mississippi and package them as a television script. The last television series set in Mississippi was Tig Notaro’s “One Mississippi,” which I loved. Tyler Perry is doing one called “She The People” about the first black woman lieutenant governor, which I’m excited to see, but doesn’t sound like it has very many authentic Mississippi stories in it. That’s not necessarily bad, but it can make a show go from something I love to something I kinda like and will watch when I have time.

I wouldn’t want to write a series about the Camlot period in Mississippi, partially because I was too young then, and my perspective would be that of a child with stars in his eyes. There’s also so much written about the Winter years, I don’t think I could compete with that.

If I move things around in history, what I might be interested in is the End of Camelot, when Reaganomics and Reagan banking regulation began to tear down the things Winter built up. It’d be the years of Ray Mabus, only I wouldn’t call him Ray Mabus, I’d call him Roy Maple or something like that in hopes that the governor wouldn’t sue me. I kind of doubt he would. I’ve always idolized him, and I think he’s always known it. He also has more money than God and has no use for some of mine.

The only shot I have at this is that my perspective is pretty unique. I had as many friends living in trailers as I did in Eastover or Woodland Hills. I was welcome at the governor’s mansion. I was also welcome at Pops Around The Corner, W.C. Dons, CS’s, The Subway Lounge, George Street, and the Dutch Bar. I try not to ever put on airs, and I’m more than happy to show my face at the seediest places in Mississippi.

The end of Camelot is also the end of the sexual revolution. It ended because people kept dying from AIDS. People who had successfully kept their sexuality secret for fifty years were suddenly coming out because their friends were dying. That’s a pretty rude way to do something we should have done long before.

In most of the fiction I write, I reference “Marsh College,” which is a combination of Belhaven and MC, but obviously, mostly Millsaps. Having college-age people as characters in the show can increase your market share considerably.

Moving things around, they’d all be fictional, but my grandfather would be alive again, so would my dad, Rowan, Brum, Nighttrain Deaton, George Harmon, William Winter, Willie Morris, Eudora Welty, and more. They could all be characters.

So, all that’s the upside. There are some downsides.

It takes me forever to finish a script I’m willing to show people. You can’t do that on television. If your series is ten episodes, then you have to finish a script in about three weeks. That’s quite a schedule.

I’m an antisocial weiirdo. There’s no way I could “sell” this idea, especially with my vocal chord in full revolt some days. There would have to be a partner that was willing to be the face of the project.

If “She The People” doesn’t do well, nobody will want to do Mississippi stories for a while. If it does do well, there won’t be that much interest in stories from some white guy.

I might do a couple of Spec Scripts, just to see where this goes. I already have some ideas. There might be a voice-over like on “The Waltons” or “Christmas Story.”

We’ll see what happens. It wouldn’t be the first time Janie was right about something I never even thought of before.