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.
Stately, plump Buck Mulligan came again from the stairhead, again bearing a bowl of lather on which a mirror and a razor lay crossed. A yellow dressinggown, ungirdled, was again sustained gently . . . it goes on – however, this piece is for writers.