Morgan Wyatt
Welcome To The World Of Morgan Wyatt
WHAT'S NEW
Church Lady Steps Out, has been bought by the Rodale magazine firm, but I am unsure which publication it will be featured in yet.
It's Always Something, the latest Indian Creek Anthology is out and available for sale at Amazon.com
Dixie will be appearing in an anthology to benefit The Rolling Horse Farm which takes in abused horses and animals. Title of the anthology is yet unknown.
The City of Enlightenment is featured in the anthology: At Home and Abroad , available form Joyous Press.
Pet Conspiracy will be in the 2008 HumorPress anthology.
Angels in the Garden will be in the Divine Intervention Anthology published by Farseo Press --sometime in 2008.
Perfect Proms for Pennies will be in a spring Dollar Stretcher issue.
My poem, Passing Jesus By, was in the winter issue of Alive Now, and in turn should be showing up in church newsletters.
My gardening article can be found at The Dollar Stretcher newsletter www.stretcher.com.
I continue to work at Novelspot as a reviewer, but the site has a whole new look. Check it out at: www.novelspot.com.
My flash fiction, "Special Delivery" appears in Blink, a flash fiction anthology. Find out more at:the paperjourney.com.
I received an honorable mention from Joyous Publishing on my short, short story "Revenge Bites." That particular anthology isn't out yet.
I am also working as a proof reader for Phaze publishing and as a possible editor, but I have yet to edit a book.
Literary House Cleaning
Gold Rush novel must get finished this spring, I let it sit once I got hit with all the funerals. I am proofing one novel, not my own, for pay and have three outstanding book reviews to do. I bet I know what I will be doing on spring break besides yard work and grading standarized tests. Divine Intervention is out. I bet some friends and relatives might get that anthology for Christmas--hope you aren't reading this. There are a few more anthologies that should be out in the spring. Organic Gardening was recycled for about the third time--I think I unsderstand what mutiple rights means now. In other words, it is something I should avoid. Maybe The Dallas Morning News will pick the gardening article up again--then I can say I've been featured in national newspapers.
Rambling By Any Other Name
Okay, I'm back, the web page was down for seasonal change. Unfortunately, I think my brain went down with it. Suddenly, I couldn't remember how to download anything. Argh! Obviously, I figured it out! Just in time too, since I am trying to get the webpage ready for the Erma Bombeck Humor Writing Convention in Dayton. Supposedly, we writer-types, she says with a sheepish grin, might exchange web site addresses to view each other's work. That means, you guessed it, it might help to have work posted. That's where the work part comes in. 
Muse in Training, Chance, My Dog
The problem with muses, is they can be so unreliable! Take Chance for example, I've tried to write several stories about how I adopted him from the animal shelter. Walked into the mall for beige pumps, ended up with a mangy puppy--yes, he was mangy. I went with the theory of adopting the most pitifiul creature, the one most people would overlook. He definitely didn't compare to the lively collie mix or the perky beagle. Instead, he was hunkered down in the back of the cage, shivering. He was undersized, undernourished, filfthy and missing clumps of hair--not exactly a poster child for dog adoption. My daughter, who was with me, kept trying to interest me in the yipping collie puppy.
Instead, I watched the pathetic little dog look up at me with golden eyes, begging. Okay, I thought he was begging. A large man with several tattoos on his biceps asked a humane employee what type of dog would the tiny puppy grow up to be. The employee seemed confused and named off several potential breeds. The man growled that he wanted a mean dog, a junkyard dog. In my mind, I pictured the already traumatized puppy chained to a rusted out Buick. It was a sign, only in my mind, I know. My mission was to save the dog from a miserable life in the elements. So I walked out of the mall with a receipt to pick up my dog after he had been neutered---glad he wouldn't associate that expereience with me.
Chance was your typical puppy only more so. Most dogs chew up shoes, he chewed up the couch while I was in the shower.:) My tiny puppy grew into 110 pound dog. As for a muse, I think he is a writer, because everytime I open the laptop he places his head on the keyboard causing random letters to sputter across the screen. There's also the possibility, he's jealous.
As for that great dog story, still working on it....
Reflection on Tutoring
First sunny day in a long time, perfect day to walk my dog, instead I was off to a drafty church basement to tutor inner-city children. Giving the sun one last glance, I shift into drive. If my mother taught me one thing it was to keep my word. Being responsible sucks sometimes as the kids would say.
Being irresponsible sucks more. These children are victims of irresponsibility from their parents to society that seems to be uncomfortable with their existence. It reminds me of the scene in A Christmas Carol where Christmas Present, all handsomely robed, lifts his sleeves to reveal Want and Ignorance in the form of matchstick thin children. Not unlike the children I tutor who wolf down pizza stray dog fast afraid their food might be claimed by another.
I show up each week, tired, but able to handle basic math and English homework. I figured other people are better versed in handling stories about daddy in prison and a mean teacher. I nod my head in sympathy and murmur, “You do what you can.” A meaningless platitude to nine-year-old, but she nods her head sagely as if she understands what I mean, maybe she does.
Other volunteers do better keeping the children on task. Instead, I listen to Latasha’s plans for a grandiose birthday party that includes white horses. I am well aware that there will be no carriage with horses, but I let her talk. Our city has never provided bus service in her blighted neighborhood. Forget horses, even the bookmobile refuses to go there.
Dreams seem to be all they have, so why rip those gossamer fantasies from them? Some of their dreams are simple enough, having a favorite meal, going to a pro sports game, even having an absentee father visit. Simple or not, most are as do-able as Cinderella’s carriage. I read the statistics; I know the odds of these children getting an education, moving out of the projects and having a life that doesn’t involve surviving on the whims of capricious society are low.
It is easy to point out that the children come from unstable, often single parent households. These parents want the same good things for their children as we all do, but seldom have the resources. It’s also hard when the community loses interest. Programs that help low-income families are the first to go in a budget crunch. After all, those people never vote, is the unspoken rationale.
All these thoughts and more cross my mind as I help Victor assemble his snowman mobile. He grins at his simple paper and string creation. It is more than being responsible, it is about keeping dreams alive.
