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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, 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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