So today I turned in my first creative writing submission at grad school. Twenty-five pages. Two full days of editing and revising, my red pen playing harbinger of dead words. I started banging out copy not long after the new year. I wrote probably the first 8-10 pages over the course of two weeks, finding myself hammering out details, characters, plot lines and all that other crap. I actually kept coming back and editing everything I wrote in an attempt to act like I was still being productive. Sad truth, the damn thing got shorter and shorter. I walked away for a while. Did some crazy shit, like go see some relatives, piddle around with other crap, deal with unemployment bullshit. Hell, I even went to church. (It's still standing; neither of us burst into flames, yet.) Whatever the cause, I sat down one Sunday and started typing. It turned into an all-nighter. Before I knew it, the craft part was done. I moved my story into the desired format and typesetting, and I'll b...
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