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The Dog Cured My Arthritis

When I was 52, I began to lose the ability to walk. Arthritis in my left hip led me to quit modeling, quit wearing high heels, quit walking for my health. “You won’t need a hip replacement,” my rheumatologist told me, “for at least a year or two.” Determined to beat that projection, I undertook a physical therapy/yoga/stretching regimen. It was...

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A Novel I Love More than Christmas

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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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Obvious Things I’ve Learned While Reading My Stories Aloud

The Story Tittle Matters The title does so much of the initial work of the story. Not only does it establish the tone, it provides the reader with subliminal clues, such as the setting, the plot’s main conundrum, etc. I’ve always known my titles encapsulate the meaning of the story—if you didn’t get the title, I haven’t written the story well...

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Leaving the Station

We slowly roll from the platform, green metal tankers absorb the golden sun. Where does the red in the light come from? Why does the end of the day bring clarity? The buttery light loves the iron couplings the grey stained concrete, and slicks against the surface close as morning toast. The broken windows of the Good Samaritan Center flash orange...

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“Buck Up, You Fool!” or Crying at Your Own Writing

I’d been working on the short story for years. An early version was workshopped in Richard Bausch’s Moss Group. Later, the story received an Honorable Mention in the Memphis Magazine Short Fiction Contest. But I’d never successfully placed the story for publication anywhere. That’s because it wasn’t right. “Ain’t No Commies ‘Round Here,”...

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Why I Have Decided to Podcast My Short Stories

In filing new query letters for my short story collection, I came across an old document. The year was 2007. The list identified agents who asked for stories or the entire manuscript. There were many. I chose one. The agent I picked was not good for me. I piddled around with him for four years, only to ultimately part ways, my fiction unsold. I’m...

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