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THE SOUL MUST SPEAK, AND LONGS TO BE HEARD

Camped Out in the Fallow Fields

I'm not writing a word of fiction these days, and it feels just fine. From ancient times, farmers have rotated crops, planted one but let another lie fallow for a season so the depleted soil can rest and replenish. For years I worked on WHERE THE LAKE BECOMES THE RIVER, my first novel, and  Read More 

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