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Damn

It's pouring outside. Still not pounding out the words as quickly as the other Clarionites, but I'm trying. For me, "boot camp" is writing three stories in six weeks - trying to write six stories would have been nice, but I'm just too slow. I'm sure most people in the workshop understand, but I feel very guilty about it, as if I'm not keeping up my end of things. And while Chip was of the "three stories in six weeks is fine" school, Nancy Kress is very much of the "this is bootcamp, not nursery school, and I expect no less than a story a week" school. She's a wonderful teacher, but I dread my one-on-one with her - there's going to be some shaming involved. I just won't have this ready to turn in until next Monday morning.

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Marine Autumn

I owe you marine autumn
With dankness at its roots
and fog like a grape
and the graceful sun of the country;
and the silent space
in which sorrows lose themselves
and only the bright crown
of joy comes to the surface.

--Pablo Neruda.


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