Welcome to the Writing Workshop Where We Don’t Write
Give in to this workshop not by writing, but by taking turns asking for more condiments, plates, and silverware as I stash them in my purse.
Give in to this workshop not by writing, but by taking turns asking for more condiments, plates, and silverware as I stash them in my purse.
It’s the very best thing I’ve ever written. Or, it’s the worst book ever typed into existence. Which one it is, I can’t say for sure.
Thanks to the PTA and a few passionate teachers, an after-school grammar club is formed so kids like me have a safe place to diagram sentences.
For new patients, let me tell you about the opening scene. We fade in on a beach, sand caked with blood being washed away by the waves!
Consider swinging with a witch: The best way to do this is by mentioning that you saw them from across the bog, and you really dig their vibe.
I’ll tell you this about Carson City, pard: if’n you wanna survive on these wild plains, best thing you can do is subscribe to my newsletter.
"Dude, I heard you were doing the transcendental thing so I brought you a six pack and a slew of magazines of an... Umm... Delicate nature!"
Pa was hard at work at his moonshine-still turning cotton into cotton gin. Grandpa was reading the paper. The paper was also Southern.
You're going to love taking phrases like "rodeos clown" and "bottlenoses dolphin" out for a spin!
Providing difficult choices among terrible options is—like with cable TV—in keeping with Hell’s overall philosophy of customer dissatisfaction.
If there wasn’t something more to it, I would be pretty bored and not have a good shot at turning it into a series of Pulitzer Prize-winning articles.
SPLERT seeks original, unpublished work from poets who grew up in Potomac, Maryland but tell people they are from "Rockville."