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On the side of a hill in the deep forest green, tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground,
blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain sleeps unaware of the clarion call.
On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves washes the grave with silvery tears,
a soldier cleans and polishes a gun.
War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions, generals order their soldiers to kill
and to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten

Thursday, November 13, 2008

Crack that Whip. Give the past a slip.

Applications for Viable Paradise open in two months and close in eight months. It was my plan to submit the first part of the novel as my critique piece. Gotta get writing. If it's not finished by the time of application closing, it should be finished before the actual workshop.

Words of advice from Tobias Buckell, "Don't workshop an unfinished novel."

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