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.
“Who’s birthday is it?” “Mine!” Beachwood shined, half beating, half pointing to his chest with ten curled fingers, squat-standing on the sofa and all there. No one said, “Knees or bottom.” “I’d . . . it goes on – however, this piece is for writers.