There's a lot of stuff growing in The Land, but you've got to be a writer to see it all. We push a selection out to a superfeed for public viewership. The rest — along with replies and revisions — is workshop material.
The heat of the oven singed your arm hair as you reached in and out for the burned riced collyfloeur, which you tossed onto the stovetop, disgusted — but not by the . . . it goes on – however, this piece is for writers.