Month: November 2014

For What Ails You

Sometimes when I’m blue and nothing seems to do where I go is Pogo. I scrounge my Pogo books from Burke’s Bookstore. They’re cheap, used as they are. I lie in bed and read about Churchy LaFemme and Howland Owl conniving to drag Pogo into their latest scheme. I laugh. I turn the page. These are not comics popular during my childhood, oh no. Walt...

Continue reading

Why We Do What We Do

Thank you so much to Luanne Castle at Writer Site for asking me to participate in this conversation on writing process. Luanne Castle Luanne lives in Arizona and California; our paths would never have crossed without her wonderful blog. Yet, I’ve since learned we have mutual writing friends and, out of her long list of publications, we share...

Continue reading

Startling Developments

Someone left a dead mole at our front door. I’m pretty sure it was the neighborhood cat. That sounds like a cat, right? Leaving little presents? I’d prefer to think that it was a generous if misguided cat rather than someone making small-time, horse-head-except-it’s-a-mole-body threats. I can fill up my Kia Soul for $25. At times, my old car...

Continue reading

Loading Dock

Once upon a time and upon the loading dock we staged floats for Mal’s St. Paddy’s Day parade. Our first time out of the gate we won a trophy. 1st Trophy I was a carrot. I was a happy carrot. Happy Carrot at the Loading Dock Tasting success, we vowed to return. We’re not liars; we returned Our Triumphant Return always meeting at the loading...

Continue reading

A Time of Firsts

I’m so excited! The new website is up and running, and I’m celebrating my firsts. The first blog post on my new website. The first chance I’ve gotten to publicly thank my website designer, Michelle Touchette, the most talented, patient designer in the world. The first time I’ve been a literal “talking head”—for...

Continue reading

Scars on My Heart

Today as I was leaving the 8:00 church service, which is mostly attended by folks living on the streets, a man stopped me. I was in my car; he was on foot. He stood in the exit to the parking lot, flagging me down. He’d already stood before me in the hall where breakfast is served, asking me to go find the pastor. He didn’t remember...

Continue reading

Stay in Touch with Ellen's Very Southern Voice Newsletter

Follow Ellen Morris Prewitt

Subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,245 other subscribers