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.
A man approached Anderson from the side. His suit was the same black as his hair. “I’m sorry, sir, but there’s no smoking in the building.” His voice sounded far away somehow. . . . it goes on – however, this piece is for writers.