Month: November 2012
At Beth’s Bookstore, I slipped a paperback from the shelf. I read the first line. That’s how I chose a book: the first line, then the first paragraph. Sometimes if I’m unsure, I continue further down the page. Then I either buy the book or I put it back.
I’ve been burned using this method—occasionally, a book doesn’t live up to the opening—but...
The Trenches We Dig
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. 2 Comments on The Trenches We Dig
In New Orleans working on a novel where the main character, a little girl named Jazzy,
evacuates Katrina to her grandparent’s home in Jackson, Mississippi,
I’m studying maps of New Orleans to understand the storm surge
from Katrina
while I’m sitting in the Bywater neighborhood,
which is separated from the Lower 9th Ward by the Industrial...
How Not to Choose a Freelance Editor
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. No Comments on How Not to Choose a Freelance Editor
At Beth’s Bookstore, I slipped a paperback from the shelf. I read the first line. That’s how I chose a book: the first line, then the first paragraph. Sometimes if I’m unsure, I continue further down the page. Then I either buy the book or I put it back.
I’ve been burned using this method—occasionally, a book doesn’t live up to the opening—but...
Peace in Creativity: A Statement of Belief
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. 1 Comment on Peace in Creativity: A Statement of Belief
At some point along the line, I began using as my email sign-off phrase, “peace in creativity.” I don’t remember the trigger. Maybe a combination of the traditional “religious folks” sign-off (peace) plus “creativity” as a variation of the title of my book (“Making Crosses: A Creative Connection...
We Got Plenty of Time
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. No Comments on We Got Plenty of Time
It’s six o’clock. The cab was supposed to be here at six o’clock. I call.
“This is Ellen Prewitt? Y’all were sending a cab?”
“You’re in Harbor Town, right?”
“Yes’m.”
“We’ve got someone coming.”
I stuff the phone in my back pocket.
Two seconds later the phone rings. “I’m coming to get you. You’re in Harbor Town, right? I’m on Park. I’ll be there...