I’ve already posted twice about the life-changing summer camp I attended for eight entire summers as a child (I wasn’t actually attending it ‘as’ a child. I
was a child. For this humorous insight, I owe Tom Paley, the great traditional musician), and I promise to stop soon and move on. But…
Camp had one major drawback: I spent ten months of each year constantly yearning for the two months of summer. I hated school and loved camp. At camp, I had friends. At school, I was a total outsider—but more about that in another post.
Today I’ve been thinking about yearning as it applies to writing.
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