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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.

Monday, August 4, 2008

His delete key went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head, he went galumphing back

"War Stories" is now 4985 words long. Tonight's edits were a hunt to "eliminate needless words." I did rewrite about 250 words or so. I bobbled around the 5000 mark for a long time. Bobby is a more haunted figure now. Most of his friends at the legion hall might not believe his story, but one knows he was telling the truth.

The email is in the cue as I type this. I screwed up and tried to send it before I was connected. I'm really tired. Ah, now it cleared.

I'm glad I slept on it. I found some horrendous grammar and a few dastardly typos. I think I caught them all, although the editor may disagree.

I know the story still holds up for me, but then I knew what it was all along. Now I'm worried I cut to far. Oh well. I guess we'll see.

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