Warm and humid; the birds are more vocal than they’ve been in days. A squirrel slinks across the forest floor, foraging only in the shade.
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Warm and humid; the birds are more vocal than they’ve been in days. A squirrel slinks across the forest floor, foraging only in the shade.
Comments are closed.
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Wow, you write shit. Hated it.
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That’s cool. It’s interesting that you appear to be using an IP address from, or very near to, Finishing Line Press — as if their reputation needed any further tarnishing!
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I, too, find it to be subpar rubbish.
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Oh how droll, another troll. This is the most visitors this sleepy little microblog has had in months!
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And one more thing must be said:
I just read your fb rant and followed the link here. It sounds like a bunch of sour grapes from disgruntled poets who resent rejection. I’m wondering if you and your crew attack every publisher who rejects your manuscript?
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I love the word ‘disgruntled’ — one of my favorites. And how I wish I had a crew (as Finishing Line Press evidently does). It would make everything so much easier!
Wait — you’re saying Finishing Line Press rejects manuscripts? LOL.