General Archives - Page 61 of 81 - Ellen Morris Prewitt

Accepting Salutes

Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on November 11, 2013. Posted in General. 2 Comments on Accepting Salutes

Always, in the past, I would call my daddy on Veteran’s Day. I called him on Memorial Day. I called, every once in a while, on December 7th when Pearl Harbor was bombed. I called to tell him thank you for a service that happened before I was born. Before I ever knew he would come into my life. Before . . . * He was only nineteen years old,...

Forget the Writing Rules

Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on November 10, 2013. Posted in General. 2 Comments on Forget the Writing Rules

If I knew every book I picked up would be as fascinating as the unpublished novel I just finished, I’d live each day with a readiness for the quiet moments when I could get back to the world between the pages. Most books I read are not so fascinating. Many are poorly written. Or well-written with characters whose lives I could care less...

Coming from Behind the Curtain

Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on November 9, 2013. Posted in General. No Comments on Coming from Behind the Curtain

me The face behind the voice. Tell me if this is what you envisioned when you listened to the stories. If you haven’t listened, click on a story then tell me what you think. That first part—the man singing—that’s not me. I’m the one talking. Remember: You Cain’t Do Nothing with Love

“Christianity is Too Hard”

Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on November 7, 2013. Posted in General. 2 Comments on “Christianity is Too Hard”

The man and I sat down at the art table, staring at the chip bags we would turn into crosses, when he asked, “What led you to do this?” I was preparing to give him my standard spiel about how the tragedy of 9/11 led me to make crosses from broken and found objects. But something made me ask, “Making crosses, you mean?” “No,”...

A Snail Went to Carlos Fuentes Funeral

Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on November 5, 2013. Posted in General. No Comments on A Snail Went to Carlos Fuentes Funeral

Sometimes I get so frustrated by the pace of my writing career, I Google the titles of my novels to see if something is going on with them that I don’t know about. This is an insane activity, as the novels haven’t been published. The only place they exist—other than a mention or two in contests I’ve placed in over the years—are...

“Just Now” written and read by Ellen Morris Prewitt

Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on October 31, 2013. Posted in General. No Comments on “Just Now” written and read by Ellen Morris Prewitt

“Just Now” First appeared in print in Memphis Magazine, the winner of its 2009 Short Fiction Contest. To contribute to the American Cancer Society, please follow the link here or visit http://cancer.org Listen to the story here:

For extra content, follow me on Instagram

Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on October 31, 2013. Posted in General. No Comments on For extra content, follow me on Instagram

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A Last Moment of Intimacy

Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on October 31, 2013. Posted in General. No Comments on A Last Moment of Intimacy

This is the last week of the rollout. Look back: the first story launched on June 26 (of this year, as my friend from writing group would clarify.) We sustained a hiatus when my daddy died, then resumed with vigor. When the current week is done, we will enter PHASE II. The collection will be made available in full on other host sites. The work...

4 Simple Questions

Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on October 27, 2013. Posted in General. No Comments on 4 Simple Questions

Our mini-series, “Recording Your Fiction,” is a on-going conversation about audio as a self-publishing option. I’m a published author who recently recorded my short story collection, Cain’t Do Nothing with Love. The stories have been rolling out on-line one story per week; they’re available for free listening on this...

Remembering Sonja

Written by Ellen Morris Prewitt on October 25, 2013. Posted in General, GRIEF. 4 Comments on Remembering Sonja

Her hair wound in a braid down her back, always. She was Indian, her dad a professor at Duke. Sonja was her name. We were in the 7th grade, she a part of the group of girls who had welcomed me, the new student, into their friendship. She wore tennis shoes to school and the long black braid. One time, at a spend-the-night party, I saw her hair...