Coming Tomorrow: Shortest Story, Longest Title
“Baby Dog, Peewee Ned, and the Devil’s Naked Butt”
“I’ve Got My Eye on You”
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. 2 Comments on “I’ve Got My Eye on You”
I am on muscle relaxers.
Never would I have thought such a sentence would come out of my mouth. It reminds me of my first—and hopefully last—divorce trial when I found myself on the witness stand giving dog testimony. I thought, my God, Ellen, here you are under oath, giving dog testimony—“I was the one who bathed them, I fed them”—desperate...
Charity Spotlight
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. 2 Comments on Charity Spotlight
Why I Like Workers Interfaith Network:
They host the best damn picnic in Memphis
Rebekah Jordan Gienapp sat in our living room and asked us what we thought about future campaigns
They want folks to make a living wage
They don’t want employers to steal employee’s wages
They fight on, regardless of whether the state legislature intends to run...
Ain’t No Commies ‘Round Here
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. No Comments on Ain’t No Commies ‘Round Here
“At my feet, the winter grass was yellow and bent. Some, like Maureen, might call its color dead, but it reminded me of the cow’s salt lick after it had been in the fields for a while, sides curved by the flat, black tongues of cows. I studied my hands holding the poster board, hatch-marked with thin scratches, impatient when I wouldn’t wait...
The Dance between Intellect and Creative Impulse
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. No Comments on The Dance between Intellect and Creative Impulse
“Interpretation is the revenge of the intellect upon art.” Susan Sontag, courtesy of A-Word-A-Day
“Revision must honor the creative impulse that led to the words that strived—neck stretched—to achieve something the intellect—sitting in the bleachers, watching the race—can only glimpse.” Ellen Morris Prewitt
Listen to “Ain’t...
Sunday Listening
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. No Comments on Sunday Listening
“I don’t want to hear any more talk about heaven. Or Jesus,” my mom says.
Still, I think it was a sign. Jesus talking like a surfer dude, except saying “skate” instead of “rock.” The real thing. So I decided to become a rollerblader for Jesus.
My mom says, “Yeah, and before that, you wanted to retire the national debt.”
“Rollerblader for...
Mentoring in Audio
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. No Comments on Mentoring in Audio
Yesterday I joined the Podiobooks Mentoring Community. The Community is a Google+ site created by Podiobooks.com, a site offering free serialized audio books. Last year, when I was struck by this wild idea to record my short stories and make them available on-line for free, I found podibooks.com.
I hung around their community for days, reading...
What I Discovered
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. No Comments on What I Discovered
If you’re gonna ask folks to listen to your work, your writing needs to be clear and easy to understand. The ear is not as flexible as the eye, which can re-scan a sentence almost without your knowing it. The ear, if confused, just sends signals to the brain causing it to shout, “Wait, wait, wait!”
Originally, I had 18 stories...
An Ode to Freedom
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. 4 Comments on An Ode to Freedom
I am not patriotic. I don’t like red, white and blue. I mean, I don’t like the colors. I’m not particularly a flag person, either. The only time I reacted to the flag was shortly after 9/11. The color guard marched in at a University of Memphis game, and everyone stood up like they meant it. Even then, the wave that washed over me was more a...
Somewhere in the Crowd
Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on . Posted in General. 4 Comments on Somewhere in the Crowd
Tom and I were there. I was 17 years old, about to go off to college. I’d been visiting in Jackson and we drove to Memphis for the day. We sat on bleachers in the blistering heat. I thought I was the very definition of Southern-fried kick-ass: I was at a Stones concert with my cool Mississippi cousins. I fell in love with Billy Preston....