My Happy Journey!

Obviously I'm having to wean myself off posting song titles as my daily Facebook status updates.

Even though I said I was stopping, I haven't yet.

I amuse myself too much and occasionally they make others happy too.

People asks, "Micheal, why do you use song titles for your status updates?"

I'll tell you why!

It makes me happy!

Happy is something you can never have enough of and dammit, I want more so I'm going for it!

The other thing I'm still doing is writing everyday and that's going to remain a constant too. We are changing the platform though.

If you want to keep receiving them every day, THAT's GREAT!

Just click to www.meellc.com and look at my picture.

Then stop looking at me and look under my picture though this may prove more difficult than you think because it's a damn fine picture!

You can sign up and there I'll be for your reading pleasure, discomfort, spiritual awakening or the first moment of utter confusion in your day.

It'll be fun.

You may be asking, "Why in the hell is he doing this?"

I'm happy to tell you.

After you sign up.
________________________________________

Sign up now for my daily blog or risk burning in Hell by going to www.meellc.com

My life as a Writer

Sitting in silence.

I do it a lot.

Of course I do it in my own unique way.

There is always music.

Every day, after kisses, coffee, driving Maddie and her friend Noah to school, returning home to watch Sarah prepare Laurel and Cassidy for their own trip there ... Goddess, Winston, the little gay dog, and I make our way to the Beloved Back Deck where I fire up the computer at the table under the umbrella.

The first thing I do is find the right music.

"I haven't got a song to fit me mood," John Lennon thoughtfully said before launching into "GOD," one of his masterpieces.

Once I find it, right now it's "Deep Cuts" from albums recorded in the 1960s, I take my shirt off and get to work.

The normal routine is to update my Facebook status with a song title, Tweet, check LinkedIn, read the headlines from "The Onion" which make me laugh then "The Atlanta Journal Constitution" which makes me sad and then ... Sarah's rushing Laurel and Cass to the car so I get up to kiss her again, remind her to be "Be safe," tell the girls bye though they don't care because they're in too big a hurry to get this day started.

Goddess and Winston, the little gay dog, wait on my return. They don't bother getting up to say bye to the girls.

Sitting back down, I start "losing laundry" ... meaning more clothes come off.

Resuming my seat ... I sit ... and wait... in silence ... with Jethro Tull's excellent song "Up to Me" blaring away from the computer which I intend to write on ... while I watch the sun rise ... listen to the Cicada sing ... feel the ocean breeze ... watch the leaves dance ... hear the world come to life with the rest of us.

Then something happens.

Inspiration hits. God says something. My fingers take on lives of their own. Whacking away at the keyboard, I lose everything happening around me ... there's no music ... no Cicada ... no ocean breeze ... no dancing leaves ...

I am one with the words.

I whisper them as they come to life ... making them prayer ... transcending everything around me.

An hour or lifetime later, Sarah returns home and I jump up to get another kiss to two ... or more.

Most of the time she's ready to get to work at the quiet end of the house.

She doesn't like my music playing while she works.

Unless she has something to say. Then she says it until she's satisfied I've heard it regardless of whether or not I heard it the first time.

When this happens, I've learned it's best to keep quiet.

Even if I say something like, "Oh, I know Babes," ... that just convinces her I haven't heard a damn thing she's said so she says it all over again ... and again.

When she finishes, she gets to work in silence and I may not see or hear from her again for hours.

I return to the Back Deck where Goddess and Winston, the little gay dog, are waiting and grooving to Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young confess they "Almost Cut my hair. It happened just the other day."

But now the words are waiting ... drawing me back into another world ... where it is silent ... and Godly things spark from my fingertips as I lapse into prayer.

That is my day.

Every day.

My Mom the critic

My Mom just got on to me.

Again.

At my age you'd think Mom would be beyond getting on to me but it doesn't bother her at all.

She's got me over a barrel because I'm really glad she's still here!

I miss my Dad and really enjoy my Mom ... well, except for when she's a critic.

Plus, she has an uncanny ability to "set me up" before knocking my legs out from under me.

"I really loved what you wrote about Frank," she begins. "Did you make any of that up?"

"No, that's pretty much how it happened," I reply. "I left some stuff out."

"Like what?"

"While he's having breakfast with me his wife's in the hospital. She was being discharged so he had to cut our visit short to go get her. Can you believe he drove all the way out here just to meet with me?"

"He's always loved you," Mom says and then moves on. "Frank is a wonderful man."

"Now I don't know Erin. Tell me about her."

"We met in Chicago when I was with the Street Medicine Institute. She's great! It's pretty much what I wrote. You'd like Erin."

"She sounds like a wonderful person," she agrees.

THEN!!!!!!!

"You used a bad word the other day in something you wrote. You're better than that."

"You mean when I said 'Holy Shit!' describing what I had to get through to get to Sarah?"

"Don't say things like that?"

I pause to chuckle.

"Mom that's really the way people talk."

"Well you're better than that," she replies.

"Mom they said the same thing to Hemingway."

"Well they don't need to say it about you."

I decide it's time to open the Fridge, get a beer and stroll back outside to the deck. In times like these, it's just best to give up. I want to live to fight another day.

"Yes Mom," I say.

"Good," she says satisfactorily.

"When are you going to write about Goddess again? It's always about Winston, the little gay dog. People miss Goddess."

"Yes mam," I nod, sipping the beer in the setting sun, loving the fact that I have my Mom.

________________________________________

An eccentric life dotted with eclectic characters pop from the pages of award winning author Micheal Elliott’s newest book Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts. His musings immerse you in a world of headshaking wonder, gut wrenching laughter, heart touched tenderness and empathetic tears.

Never letting the truth stand in the way of a good story, Elliott’s ninth book takes you on a wild journey of “Wow! Really! I can’t believe that!” every day moments. Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts exemplifies his gift of capturing common thoughts and painting them perfectly into words.

At www.meellc.com

Book History

My first book came out right after I'd left the place it was about. Sitting on Daytona Beach, I saw "The Society of Salty Saints" for the first time and read about a rag tag, inner city congregation that somehow took off and, because I'd been the "Professional Christian" in charge, a publisher was interested and asked me to write a book.

It did well and I was asked to write a sequel.

So I did.

It pissed the publisher off because I decided to only use quotes from Clarence Jordan's "Cotton Patch Gospels". Clarence is the only prophet Southern Baptist ever produced and translated the New Testament into a modern day southern vernacular. The publisher thought I was compromising the continuing story of the gritty church in the city.

So they dropped me.

By this time I was in Savannah, Georgia and because "Salty Saints" had sold well, another publisher gave me a contract for "Partners In Grace". It was very much like the first book and it did really well so they wanted me to do another. "Why the Homeless Don't Have Homes" is the only thing I've written to win an award and it got me invited to lots of places.

A friend I'd gone to Seminary with was now working for another publisher. He called asking if they could publish my next book and I said, "Sure."

Horrified they read the manuscript of "Running with the Dolphins & other Tybee Tales."

"Um, Micheal," Scott said when he called, "we're a religious publisher. We only do Christian books."

"Lots of people use God's name on Tybee," I replied. "Especially late at night."

When the book came out, it did crazily good and remains my most popular writing.

So Scott was even more horrified when the next book was "Playing Hide & Seek: A non-Church-goers guide to God". Most books have a preface written by someone vouching for it. Nobody would vouch for this one and I actually got hate mail before it was published.

When it did come out, the publisher dropped me.

The next one was "Out from under the Rock", sort of a sequel and I gave all of the money it made to Union Mission. It made lots of money. I didn't get any.

So I decided to write a book that would make me a lot of money. Tour of Homes is a big, ambitious tome that didn't make me any money. It got good reviews though.

Then I got distracted did lots of writing but it wasn't book stuff.

Sarah walked outside one day and, "It's time for a new book. Why don't you write one about Winston, the little gay dog?"

As far as we know nobody's written a book about a gay dog ... so I did.

Then Sarah walked outside and said, "It's time for another book. People have been asking."

"Well I just finished the book on Winston, the little gay dog, yesterday," I replied.

This was received with incredible silence, crossed arms and an "Are you kidding me?" look.

So, Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts (http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/newbook/ ) is done and will be out soon.

Winston, the little gay dog, is pissed because he thought his book would be out first. He just stormed out wearing a little sweater with the words "Writers Suck More" while flipping me his middle pad on his paw with nails painted red.

What do you do?

No matter what, I seem to always get under somebody's skin.

Or in this case, fur.

Coffee Breaks and Deadlines

The managing partner burst outside to my office where I sit naked typing and working on my tan. She seems perturbed which is hard to understand because it's an absolutely glorious day. The sky is blue, the sun bright, the pungent smell of the marsh hangs in the air and the breeze off the ocean is crisp. The Beach Boys  are saying, "Don't worry Baby." It's a great day to be at work!

"Where's my list?" she demands. "The deadline is now!"

I don't understand people who have indoor offices with artificial light, recycled air, an organized desk and a functional filing system.

"Well?" she asks when I fail to answer.

"Almost done," I lie.

She makes a face, blows a puff of air from her mouth to the strand of hair that's fallen in her face, and marches her cute little ass to her corner office in the main part of corporate headquarters.

"Well Goddess," I say to  my dog laying under my bare feet, "I guess it's time to get started."

She rolls her beautiful amber eyes and goes back to sleep.

My assignment is to choose my favorite blogs for the book that's coming out in October. The managing partner is, of course, finished with the cover, the package design, the art work, the marketing plan, the pricing, and the hard copy, e-copy and Kindle layouts.

On the other hand, I haven't done jack shit.

That's not entirely true.

I have been going back and reading old writings. It's hard picking favorites. It's like having to choose who I love most ... Jeremy, Kristen or Chelsea? Some things just can't be done.

Reading about Winston, the little gay dog ... my Guardian Angel ... the Cat Lady ... drunken bicycles ... the sad little holy dock ... Fran's thousand shades of green ... long talks with God over glasses of wine ... stumbling through the door marked "Exit Only" at The Breakfast Club ... travels to Belize, Key West, San Juan Islands, Costa Rica, and St. Martin ... Bill Berry (not the former drummer for REM but the other one) ... Johnny O ... the Carnival of Friends ... Sarah and I ... love lost and better love found ...

It all makes me laugh or cry.

It's an emotional exercise! A tough assignment! An impossible deadline!

"How far have you gotten?" she asks disrupting my staring off into space thinking these things.

She's standing halfway in and halfway out of the sliding glass doors ad the sun is hitting her face just right, and she's wearing a red UGA tank top that's tight across her breasts, and short cut off blue jeans showing off her fine thighs and tanned legs.

"It's coffee break time, right?" I say standing up.

She flashes her Mona Lisa smile.

We head to the Rec room.

God I love coffee breaks!
______________________________

Interested in more? Please check out www.meellc.com