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O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

Sunday, July 9, 2006

The Seven-Thousand

Just finished the red-line edit and the polish. I’m at 7002 words. I think I’ll print it out and read it once again before I send it off. After that it’s edit time for “Changelings” and “Wild Hunt.” Then we’ll send them off too, “Changelings” to Weird Tales and “Wild Hunt” to Lady Churchill’s Rosebud Wristlet. Then it we’ll see how well that story structure idea for “Farewell Angelina” works.

This week is our main Council Meeting on Tuesday, oil change on Wednesday, and two design projects due. Hopefully we’ll have some good time to work.

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