One evening the week before Thanksgiving, my husband and I were sprawled in our opposite corners of the couch, watching the evening news. “Next week isn’t Thanksgiving, is it?” he asked. “Nah,” I said. But it was. And we had no plans. He decided to try to book a table at a restaurant, but the …

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I’ve written about the Port Townsend Writers’ Conference before here and here. I’m doing so again. I’ve attended the conference six out of the last eight years. Three of those years I enrolled in one of the full morning workshops – a daily, intensive two and a half hours of manuscript critique or generative writing. …

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