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Overhead the albatross hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves in labyrinths of coral caves
An echo of a distant time comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine.

And no one called us to the land
And no one knows the where's or why's
Something stirs and something tries
Starts to climb toward the light.


Friday, December 15, 2006

Steve is just this guy, you know.

Well, I changed my profile to show my real name. Hi, I'm Steve and I'm a writer (Hi, Steve). I usually get a few hundred words a week...

That's how I always feel when I introduce myself in a writers group, like I'm in AA or something.

Anyway. I think I'm making more of an arse, I mean, a name for myself and it's time to be proud of that name. Well, for writing I always was proud of my name. By the happy chance of it I'll be shelved next to Steven Brust if I ever get a book out. And that is just way too cool for me.

So here I am. I almost have my decade chip. Someday I'll be paid to publish my writing. On that note, I still haven't heard from the Writer's of the Future Contest about "My Favorite War Stories." So I figure I'll either be a finalist (always a bridesmaid, never a bride, boo hoo), or I might have crossed the barrier. Yesterday I was inexplicably happy. Maybe that was it.

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