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Tag: free fiction

Claim the Disappearing: Chapter 9

(I invite you to enjoy this free New Orleans novel, courtesy of the wonder that is the internet, unrolled a teensy bit at a time. If you are just joining us, feel free to return to THE BEGINNING and work your way through.) The saint cleared his throat, urging me to get on with it. Outside the transom window, a tourist walked by in a tall jester’s...

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Claim the Disappearing: Chapter 8

(I invite you to enjoy this free New Orleans novel, courtesy of the wonder that is the internet, unrolled a teensy bit at a time. If you are just joining us, feel free to return to THE BEGINNING and work your way through.) My Elfy was plump as a pin cushion. She spoke in spurts and nibbled her fingers in between her words. She was my great-grandmother...

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Claim the Disappearing: 5

(I invite you to enjoy this free New Orleans novel, courtesy of the wonder that is the internet, unrolled a teensy bit at a time. If you are just joining us, feel free to return to THE BEGINNING and work your way through.) The light slicing through the open castle door slowly contracted. The creaking of the shutting door that accompanied it was...

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Claim the Disappearing: 4

(I invite you to enjoy this free New Orleans novel, courtesy of the wonder that is the internet, unrolled a teensy bit at a time. If you are just joining us, feel free to return to THE BEGINNING and work your way through.) My ancestor Tip-Top was Cherokee. Please be clear about this. I might be a gentrifying jerk who steals atmosphere for her...

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Claim the Disappearing: 2

(I invite you to enjoy this free New Orleans novel, courtesy of the wonder that is the internet, unrolled a teensy bit at a time. If you are just joining us, feel free to return to THE BEGINNING and work your way through.) All bad things start in Alabama. That’s not talking ugly. It’s geographical fact. Alabama is a topographical sinkhole out...

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Claim the Disappearing: 1

(I invite you to enjoy this free New Orleans novel, courtesy of the wonder that is the internet, unrolled a teensy bit at a time.) The ancient Chartres decree that the Royal Dauphine drink Burgundy while seated on the Rampart until St. Claude rises from the dead.  I taught myself that ditty to remember which rickety street followed which...

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The Yellow Line

I spent eight years assisting those who were experiencing homelessness to get their voices into the world. So I am acutely aware that in my short story, The Yellow Line, I am writing in the voice of a woman whose experiences I cannot actually know. But Leroy Scott, one of the authors of Writing Our Way Home: A Group Journey Out of Homelessness,...

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Self-Publishers Self-Promotion: Mock-you-deals

“In a zero book deal, Ellen Morris Prewitt’s short story collection, Cain’t Do Nothing with Love, on-line in audio” “Underselling author Ellen Morris Prewitt’s short story collection Cain’t Do Nothing with Love to caintdonothingwithlove.wordpress.com” “Author of multiple works of mischief, Ellen Morris Prewitt’s...

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Cheers to the Buzzing Mosquito

How do you choose to get your work out there? This question—ebook or print?—is raging on LinkedIn. Sprinkled in but treated as an annoying buzzing mosquito of a distraction—quit bringing this up!— are a handful of posts about audio. I am the buzzing mosquito. Here, at Cain’t Do Nothing with Love, we are living in an audio world. “Written...

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