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Now John at the bar is a friend of mine. He gets me my drinks for free.
And he's quick with a joke or to light up your smoke, but there's someplace that he'd rather be.
He says, "Bill, I believe this is killing me," as a smile ran away from his face.
"Well, I'm sure that I could be a movie star if I could get out of this place."

Monday, July 10, 2006

Signs and Premonitions

Okay, I’m sitting here while the woman I share my life with is reading “War Stories.” No good laughs, lots of “hmms” and “oh’s” as in, “so, that’s what you mean.” Well, maybe it’s going to need another rewrite. That’s what readers are for, and it’s better that I get this feedback now, instead of rejection letters later.

Just for the record, no, I’m not upset. This is criticism, not execution. I’m trying to get better, not stay where I am. If you’re in a writing group and you can’t tell a person that they’ve comma-spliced or had a verb-subject disagreement, that’s a literary society.

Time to go get the news.

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