You already know this place.
It's where the goodbye takes forty five minutes and nobody's moved toward their truck yet. Where Barb leaves a hotdish on your porch and you don't know which Barb and it don't matter. Where the dirt road looked just fine from the pavement and now you're driving home with your head out the window covered in mud posting selfies on Facebook like you meant to do that.
Fifty Shades of Heyah is a week in the life of anybody who ever waved at somebody they didn't recognize and had to live with that. Seven days. One froze bolt. A deer committee. Gerald schnookered at the ice fishing shack. The lutefisk nobody touched. County Road B with more twists and turns than Chubby Checker in a blender. And one word that somehow says everything that needs saying without making a big thing of itself.
Oh yah. You betcha. This is your book.