My name is H.E. Ellis, and I am chronically immature.
That’s a bit harsh. Maybe a more accurate description would be that I am suffering from a case of arrested development. I guess that’s what you’d call my need to prioritize my life by what is fun as opposed to what is necessary. My AD affliction isn’t so bad in and of itself, but it affects my husband’s life daily. Here are the top ten reasons why my husband is a saint:
Like most Americans, I mark the changing of seasons not by dates or by weather or by solstices, but by the return of iconic milkshakes. Arby’s Orange Creme shake marks the beginning of summer, their Pumpkin Cheesecake shake welcomes the fall, McDonald’s Eggnog shake is a classic every winter but the best and most anticipated of all is their Shamrock Shake in the spring. (more…)
You may not know this about me, but I can be kind of a dick.
Keep that in mind if you decide to email me promises of wealth beyond my imagination, supplied by the overthrown Prince of a war-ravaged country or by Nigerian/Sudanese/Ugandan dissidents. You may not like how the conversation goes. (more…)
Most days I keep my boredom at bay by adding cartoon characters or celebrities I’ve never met to my phone’s contact list, or by pranking unsuspecting people who happen to incorrectly dial my cellphone number. Then there are days when the boredom is too much and I share my pain by sending random and nonsensical texts to the poor souls who happen to know me.
Featured here are the best responses to the inane chatter that escapes my head on a daily basis: (more…)
What’s the slushpile, you ask? The slushpile, my friends, is the virtual trash bin where your manuscript lands the moment a prospective agent determines it is not yet ready for publication. Believe me, after all your hard work this is no place you want to be.
So how do you avoid the slushpile? Read widely? Write often? Find yourself a solid writers’ group?
Hell no! You do it by following my advice, of course! I’ve spent the past year creating a collection of books designed to help would-be authors navigate their way through the jungle that is the publishing world. Choose from the following: (more…)
Long before I became a New Englander I was a native of the south, specifically southern Florida. And as anyone who’s either lived in or even just visited the south can attest, no one throws a party better than a southerner (back me up here, Dayton). Because in the south a party isn’t just a party- it’s a balls-out drunken feeding frenzy of Bacchanalian proportion. I blame the heat.
It should come as no surprise that the southern party of the year, Mardi Gras, is celebrated in the party Mecca better known as New Orleans, Louisiana. French for “Fat Tuesday,” Mardi Gras reflects the practice of the last night of eating richer, fatty foods before the ritual fasting of the Lenten season.
Fat Tuesday, my friends, just happens to be today. (more…)