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I admit, this post is mostly for [personal profile] nnozomi's benefit, but I'm putting it in my own journal for future reference.

Was at the symphony this afternoon; the program was Poem for Orchestra by William Grant Still, Gershwin's Piano Concerto, and after the intermission, Shostakovich's Fifth Symphony. I discovered Shostakovich about a decade ago on rereading a compendium of great composers with short bios and "starter kits," and was touched by the story of him waiting on the landing every night so that if he was arrested by Stalin's men, his family wouldn't have to watch. The Fifth Symphony, I learned today, is the piece he wrote to save his life and redeem his standing after being denounced. We arrived early enough that we could hear the guest conductor talk about this at the Concert Comments before the performance, but he gave a little precis to the main audience as well, particularly about the argument over the last section of the final movement -- is it the happy ending Stalin wanted, or is it bitter recapitulation and tragedy? Or is it both?

The performance was amazing, and as for the finale, I told K that it reminded me of nothing so much as that scene in the Star Trek reboot where Zachary Quinto accepts being kicked out of the Vulcan Academy, giving the Vulcan salute and saying "Live long and prosper" in such a simple tone that it clearly means the opposite. My most immediate comment was, "I never heard 'fuck you' spelled out with a timpani before!" My respect for Shostakovich has gone up several notches today.

Anyway, the point of this is that the guest conductor, Joshua Weilerstein, has a podcast called Sticky Notes, in which he deals with various pieces of the classical repertoire, interviews artists and musicians, introduces niche music to wider audiences, and is just generally cute and enthusiastic and well-informed. I listened to both parts 1 and 2 of the episodes about Shostakovich 5, and discovered that Weilerstein was indeed responsible for the KCS being seated differently than usual -- some aspects of this symphony, he said, are strengthened by having the orchestra in a particular configuration. Sadly, Weilerstein already has a job, or I would wish KCS would hire him when Michael Stern retires.

In sum, [personal profile] nnozomi (and anyone else who finds this appealing), run don't walk to "Sticky Notes" if you haven't found it already. He has an episode about Bruckner's 7th!
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FTR, I'm in pretty good case. I'm going to be in even better case come January 20, 2021, but this? I will take this.

I should probably stop spending so much time on Twitter, though, because my feed (and my Facebook feed as well tbh) is a zero-waste store filled with locally-sourced pleas to people to refrain from gathering at Thanksgiving, ready to gush forth at the turn of a handle. A mon avis:

1) Nobody who is at this point seriously planning to visit family for Thanksgiving is going to listen to your appeals to decency, altruism, or the virtues of delayed gratification. Please save your keystrokes, your angst, and my optic nerves. It's not that you're wrong! I care about our health care professionals as much as anyone (after all, my actualfax day job is devoted to advocating for them), and I have been staying in the goddamn house for eight fucking months, desperately annoyed at the people who blithely go and sit in restaurants without a motherfucking mask, and I agree they are idiots who will kill us all, or avoid doing so only by sheer goddamn luck.

But please. Stop with the begging tweet threads.

2) No, really, stop with the begging. "I know it's hard. But please be brave." This is the kind of thing that makes me feel like I was raised by wolves, or like by the opposite of wolves because Not Gathering With Family at the holidays? Is what I do every year, and the only difference between this year and other years is that I now have a spectacular excuse. But even if that were not the case, even if I did go visit my family every year and were sorry not to be doing so now, this is not a decision that requires bravery. It is no harder than any of the other thousand goddamn things that we have been attempting to do without state assistance for the better part of a year.

We are in month eight of a vast, shambling fait accompli. This is a year of collective misfortunes compounded by personal breakages, public idiocies, and political malevolence. It's appalling, but not, at this stage, at all surprising.

But even if I were, say, at the end of my tether and had been counting on rubbing elbows at the dinner table with loved ones at the end of the year and half-demoralized to contemplate not doing it, I would still be deeply annoyed by randos on social media telling me to "be brave."

Like, I resented that kind of emotional condescension when I was five. How much more when I'm forty-five? And I have a feeling I'm not the only one.

Anyway, my birthday happens to be on Thanksgiving Day this year, and I have plenty to be thankful for, and I expect to make some chickpea curry stew and enjoy it in my little apartment by myself, and will have very little reason to feel oppressed. So yeah, probably should get off Twitter, then, heh.

This has been your friendly neighborhood periodic burst of Recreational Complaining. We now return you to your regularly scheduled broadcast.
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Popping in here to say: it's Book Day, and my new novella is out in the wild! Here is Household Lights, Ryswyck #1.5:



To celebrate the launch, I'm running a special at the Smashwords outlet via their July Summer/Winter Sale. For the month of July, Ryswyck will be available FREE in .mobi (Kindle), EPUB, and other formats. So if you were hesitating before, you can read the whole backstory for zero moneys this month. And if you have read Ryswyck, you can boost the signal for Household Lights by reviewing it at Goodreads or wherever you hang out to discuss books.

This has been your Obligatory Marketing Shenanigans Post. Cheers!
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One of the things I do miss when I come to post here is the insta-preview when one posts links. So, this is going to be inevitably lo-tech.

It's almost Memorial Day and we're that much closer to the official launch! My author blog today lays out the different venues where you can find Ryswyck, along with a link to the author's Goodreads profile, and other things.

Swing by, if you're so inclined, and take a look! 
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 I keep reminding myself I need to update here while I'm at it everywhere else, but I keep not doing it.

I'm in Shameless Marketing Mode this week, aiming to make a target of 100 e-book sales so I can release the paperback for those who don't do e-books (long story, blog post explains it).

So, for all you people who use Goodreads, I'm now up with an Author page. Go check it out! And note: you can now preorder the e-book at the distributor of your choice. For less than the price of a latte you can get an absorbing epic tale of friendship and courtesy, scandal and war. Where could you go wrong?
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Mark your calendars for Memorial Day: Ryswyck will be out in ebook and print on May 27, 2019!

RYSWYCK cover art

I'm starting to get actually excited: up till this point it's mostly been just lots and lots of work, but now it's like I have an actual product on the verge of release, who knew!

My deep gratitude goes to Beth Leggett, who graciously undertook my commission and delivered an awesome cover.

Preorder information is pending; I've got the placeholder up on Smashwords and it should be going out to distributors very soon. (I don't think I can do a preorder on Amazon until I've got the document in the proper format, so there might be a wait for that one. But soon!)

*happy dance*

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There's a lot happening on the Original Project front right now!

Last week I finished a full draft of the novella-size story that deals with the aftermath of Ryswyck (Book 1). It's now off to beta. While that's going on, I'm deliberating on a couple of thumbnail designs that my commissioned artist came up with for Book 1's cover -- very cool, and I'm looking forward to the finished piece once I've chosen a design!

Then next month I'm going to fully tackle the storyboarding for Book 2 and get started on a draft. I mean, I could do that now, but it seems wise to catch my breath after finishing the draft of Book 1.5, you know?

Also, can you believe that the quasi-official word count of a novella tops out at 40k? I think that's nuts. What are these 50k-word "novels" people are writing? I just looked up the NaNoWriMo target word count and it is indeed 50k, which just boggles me. So you're telling me I just wrote a 53k-word novel in a month and a half -- whose plot heavily depends on the plot of the book before it, which let's just say is a Large Ass Book? 

I'm continually nonplussed by this disparity in perspective. I mean, for assignments and sermons and just about every kind of set-piece of writing, I consistently come in way under budget, as it were. Then I looked into selling my novel and it's like, "Nobody has any business writing a novel over 110k words." The hell you say! 

As far as I can tell, it's down to the commodification of books and a sense that readers don't have the attention span for a book of more than 175 pages. Which I think is bullshit because I'm ADHD and I can read a doorstop with enough motivation. The way I figure, as an author I want to provide the motivation, not portion control.

Well, that turned into a bit of a rant, didn't it. Suffice to say, I just wrote a 50k-word goddamn novella, fight me.

And now, back to work. :)
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Well, and happy New Year to all and sundry. I rang in the new year in highbrow style with a Charles Shaw cabernet, assorted forms of chocolate, and a truly heroic marathon of classic QI. I plan to make some salmon cakes for dinner, but regrettably I am out of lemons, so I may have to sally forth as I did not do yesterday.

Meanwhile, I am gradually teeing up production tasks for the debut of the Original Project: right now, that means networking to commission an artist for a cover design and for a line-art map. I drafted a concept of the map the other morning, and in a moment of chagrin reflected just how many maps of invented countries I've seen seem to resemble the island of Britain -- what are the odds? -- but then I remembered that the whole point of the Original Project in the first place was to be a kitchen sink of my favorite tropes plus some that I hadn't begun to see six years ago. My target reader is the fellow Sayersphile who hankers for queerplatonic ships, suffering with an actual payoff, and Charles-Williams-like spirituality only with a little less male-centric occultism. It's a niche market, I admit.

That being the case, I will hereby link to my Official Author Website, currently under construction, at which I have already started a blogging regimen to cycle in some content. My friend who has graciously offered server space to host the site and helped acquire the domain has not yet set up the SSL code -- and I have not yet finished tinkering with the design -- so obviously there are still things to be done. But the shingle is up! And now that my maudlin time of year has passed, I expect it will be easier to blog things that are less portentously earnest. Feel free to saunter over and engage if you like.

For now, meanwhile, maybe I can get some writing done this morning. Cheers to all!
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Well, that’s out of the way, then.

I entered the Pitch Wars contest this year, more or less as a practice exercise – practice deploying a query, writing a synopsis, prepping a sample, &c. And though I didn’t take much advantage of the various fora in which entrants swapped critique partners and encouragement, I did enjoy reading the tweets of folks who were preparing their manuscript to put out there – and found out a lot about industry trends, agents’ wish lists, and a whole lot of things I wouldn’t have without going on this particular venture.

Anyway, the list of this year’s chosen mentees came out last night, and as expected I am not on it; I didn’t get any responses asking for more pages or anything like that during the selection period, so it’s not much of a surprise. I’m free now to get on to the next phase of my plans for this project.

I think I’m going to stop checking out the hashtag from now, though. Because right now it’s chock full not only of congrats for the chosen and thanks to the contest runners, but also of people trying to console the other 95% who didn’t get in – assurances that there are many paths, and not to give up, and stories of those who found their agent the next day, and so on ad nauseam. I find those far more annoying than watching people be genuinely happy about their good fortune.

During this process I queried a freelance editor about tailoring my query letter to pitch a Very Long Book, and got back a frank and therefore much less annoying answer: that the chance of an agent or publisher taking on the risk of a debut novel longer than 110k words is slim to none. You could fit two of that maximum in my book. So if Becoming a Published Author were the grail I was after, my choices would be: a) rewrite the book to be something completely other than what it is, or b) put it away and write something else.

But from my point of view, being a Published Author is just a means of access to the thing I actually want: putting this particular book out there without having to undertake the project management myself. So as soon as I heard that it was all but guaranteed that querying my book would be a waste of time, I switched tracks to independent publishing with relatively little pain. I hate project management but I love control, so now that Pitch Wars is officially out of the way, I’m picking brains and making lists to try and get the best possible version of my book out by spring.

Would I have liked to see my book find its audience via traditional publication? Of course I would. Am I unhappily aware that producing it by any other means would rob it of the cachet of being a Real Book? Well, yes. Am I annoyed that the venn diagram between “books that are good” and “books that are commercially attractive” happens to leave mine in the cold after all? Tooth-grindingly so. But am I crushed? Hardly. Wanting to give up? I’ve already tried giving up on this project – might as well tell my hair to stop growing. Discouraged about my own skill and talent? Um…no more than usual, really.

So, take it all around – I’m working, and pretty much fine. But if you wanted to buy me a drink and murmur sweet writerly nothings in my ear, I wouldn’t exactly say no.

Editing

Apr. 23rd, 2018 01:41 pm
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Dang, I miss this format. As lovely as the gifsets are, I don't think tumblr is an adequate substitute for nested comments and privacy settings. And the ability to Like things would be a hell of a lot more worthwhile if you could actually find something again after you've liked it. I sometimes feel like tumblr R&D is like, "Hey, how could we code things to cause maximum discomfort to ADHD folks? Okay, let's do that."

ANYway. I am editing. I am editing my original novel project, which has been five years in the writing but now is on its second complete draft. And I find myself in new waters, because with fanfiction -- well, it's not like I never take my fic-writing seriously, but there are no consequences (or at least, very few) for responding to a beta's note with an inward, "Well, I can't be arsed and I like it that way, so there."

With this, I have to take notes from editors seriously enough to address them -- to make changes or else decide more finely what the consequences are of not making them. E. is right, it's like being nibbled by a small horde of persistent ducks. Fortunately, a) so far most of what's on my to-do list is a matter of depixellation rather than restructuring and b) I'm now finished with a damned draft so I'm no longer submersed in it and knee-jerk defensive. It's different work than the creating part, painstaking like needlepoint, requiring voluntary muscles while the involuntary ones rest from their labors.

It's nice to be at this point.
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Oops, I'm talking about friendship again. Let's take the traditional pause for all my longtime friends to groan.

[pause] And also with you.

So a couple of years ago I wrote a meditation on Friendship and Eros as motive forces in stories, which you can read if you like, but here's the gist.

In stories, romantic love (eros) tends to function on a mythic level to signify healing or mending something that was broken; representative reconciliation; and redemption for one or both of the characters. So much so that when we read or watch a story that has no romantic love, or in which romantic love is unfulfilled, we are tempted to think that the characters have missed their chance (sometimes literally!) at salvation. Or that the universe the story takes place in is still broken.

Likewise in stories, friendship functions to signify that which is unbroken or in some cases unbreakable. If you have a friend, you discover that something is right with the world, that something is right with yourself, that there is a part of you that doesn't need fixing, or that makes fixing the broken part worthwhile. A story about friendship isn't a story about redemption, it's a story about vindication. A universe with friendship in it speaks of stability in spite of the odds. Friendship is relief from a siege, a cleared path in a lane of mines, a point of perception that bypasses and sometimes even neutralizes chaos.

The point is, we want out of stories what we want out of the world. Here follows some aro patriotism )

All this is by way of saying that I just finished Megan Whalen Turner's Thick as Thieves, and now that I've resurrected myself from a death of flailing squee, I'm perpendicular enough to cry out my gratitude to MWT for writing in these times a book that is a paean to friendship. In a series that affirms friendship with its true mythical strength.

Spoilers, obviously )

No mode of human love is watertight; and we wouldn't want it to be. But mythically speaking, we need robust, physical, unabashedly equal friendship, not just for the aromantic among us, but for everybody who wants breathing room for the love they love best.

There, that should do it for another couple of years.
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Gosh, looks like I haven't written any fic in a year. Been pouring everything into achieving a first whole draft of ye olde Original Project. I'm in the homestretch with that, but couldn't resist writing a snippet of missing-scene fic for Thick as Thieves, because the rest of my response is pretty much just copious flailing. Lots and lots of flailing.

So here it is:

Debriefing

Needless to say, here be spoilers.
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 Being the third and probably last installment of this meta series.
 
So the fun—or aggravating, take your pick—thing about writing meta for an unfinished canon is the myriad ways one can misjudge an arc. I’ve wound up with egg on my face before (Mary Russell is having a marital crisis! Snape/Lily is too bathetic to ever happen!) so I’ve learned not to overcommit to any theories I form about characters and their arcs.
 
Fortunately one doesn’t have to overcommit to talk about the Faceless Man. 
 
devices and desires )
 
And thus endeth my tale.
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In the first part of my experiment in meta with personal narrative, I limited myself to talking about how Lesley’s sense of identity and choice is affected by losing her face. But there’s another major motif (in Lesley as a character and in the books at large) that is deeply affected, even wholly catalyzed, and that is the place of compassion in her and Peter’s vocation.

action versus contemplation )

*

Possibly more, by and by.

 

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 This is mostly by way of some experimental thoughts about Lesley, who is my favorite character though I adore them all—briefly looking at the narrative through the lens of personal experience, and seeing if that adds anything once the lens is taken away.
 
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Every so often I get the urge to worry away at a conundrum that has preoccupied me over the years: the qualitative difference(s) between romantic love and friendship, as types of human love. I suppose the preoccupation dates to the first time I read C.S. Lewis's The Four Loves, which I found illuminating but ultimately very unsatisfying. This recent Sojourners article brought the subject to mind again, along with perennial fandom wrangling about bromance vs. slash, and of course my novel project, Ryswyck, rendering in the background.

I don't think I'm any closer to mastering the subject than I was when I started, but this time I decided to focus on one particular aspect of it, which is the writer's point of view -- the kinds of stories we tell about friendship and romantic love, and what kinds of stories that each love drives. It's timely because I'm seeing other writers in various venues writing about ways to "rehabilitate" friendship as a valid love in its own right, and it's important to me because -- well, we shall see.

by and by, Lord, by and by )

Call for wine; let there be an enchantment.
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Okay, I'll bite.

Comment with a ship and I'll explain why I ship it/don't ship it. OR HOW I SHIP IT. THERE COULD BE SURPRISES.

My fandoms )

Yeah. So. Hit me.
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I'm not going to wait until Wednesday to post about recent reading and writing. May as well strike when the iron is hot. Well, sorta. It's mostly ambient heat from summer. So, Recent Books in My Basket:

American Savage by Dan Savage. I always enjoy Dan Savage, even when I think he's full of shit, as sometimes happens. He is in the peculiar position of being asked to delineate and clarify public sexual ethics for the new age, and Dan was raised a good Catholic boy, so he does it quite ably, actually. He's also very funny. This book is a compendium of DS's thoughts on recent developments in LGBT issues as well as guns, parenting, his mother's death, and his relationship with the church.

Garment of Shadows by Laurie R. King. Had fallen behind in reading the Russell books, but now that I'm armed with a library card, I've gotten caught up. I still enjoy the first canon I participated in online fandom for, but a bit more casually these days. LRK has taken to lampshading a bit more blatantly, I note -- "What, are we in an Ethel Dell novel now?" Ali complains -- but I've always liked Russell and her energetic competence, and I liked this installment too. One thing that caught my attention was the assumption that in international affairs there is no question of whether to torture and extort, only how much, and you pick the good guys out by whether they do less of it, and with what level of distaste. I am sure this is a longstanding attitude in post-colonial politics, but I'm determined to write against it however possible. If my characters can manage to combat torture and yet avoid naivete, I will have done a great feat. Courtesy or bust, is my motto, as see below.

One Was A Soldier by Julia Spencer-Fleming. Also got caught up on the Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne series. This one was quite painful, but very good. I always do admire how JSF can layer complex psychological strata within and between people and make it part of a juggernaut plot -- it's a real talent. I'm also glad she didn't zoom out far enough from her Iraq-War-damaged characters to highlight the fact that they're all going through this suffering because of a lie, because that would have been just too much. The characters are fiction, but the suffering's real, and happening all over, and that's just untenable if you think about it too much. In this book too I found something I want to write against: there's an almost universally accepted trope that romantic love is the pinnacle of overwhelming grace, and JSF plays it to the hilt. Very well, mind you! But I want to read a book once in a while in which friendship is not just a stepping-stone to romantic love but a real breed of love in itself that also is a gateway to redemption. It's nice to read that someone was pulled back from the brink because they found a lover: but sometimes they're also pulled back because they have a Friend. In OWAS, Eric observes toward the end that "one another's all we have," but he's also losing his marriage, so he has grace enough to get by, but not the Best Kind. There's plenty of psychological truth there, but all the same I don't like that, Sam I Am. There are assumptions that need to be questioned, not least because questioning them leavens the melodrama a bit, which doesn't hurt.

The Track of the Cat by Nevada Barr. My local bud [profile] notabluemaia recced NB to me, so I gave Anna Pigeon a whirl. I like the spare prose and the straightforward, rough passage of both the character and the plot. Intrigued enough to try some more.

Meanwhile, on the Writing Front I am still laboring on Ryswyck Chapter 5. Have had to do a lot of backend character-drawing, because now that I've set up the initial main conflict and brought in most of the dramatis personae, I need to sift their motivations so as to get the plot track laid out straight. This is where I envy JSF her ability to weave plot and character and make it look seamless.

But, now that I'm into the laborious middle (and the extra-laborious summer season), I decided to post the second and third chapters to AO3, just so that my readers (and potential readers) can see what the conflict is going to look like. What I hope is that people can see in the first three chapters both the kill and the cure. Well, we'll see.

(crossposted from LJ)
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So instead of buckling down to prepare materials for the Purgatory retreat, my brain decided to spin an angsty crackfic scenario that I am patently unable to write because it would involve way too much plotting, and my winter high is starting to wear off. It is much, much too late in the season to lay the foundation for a fic in which some Vorling heir pulls a blackmail stunt on Alys to get her help with a border dispute and thinks he can do it with impunity because, as Simon guesses, he has somehow found out about Aral and the Escobar thing and plans to use it to drive a wedge between Aral and Gregor and Aral and Miles, and foment a civil disturbance in which he comes out on top. And then, after some desperate cogitations and as much planning as he can manage with Alys without telling her The Secret, Simon decides to fake his suicide in a lightflyer crash, and then sneaks back into Vorbarr Sultana, disguises himself as a poor babushka, and begs for tidbits at the Galenis' back door for several days until they get exasperated and finally take a second look ("Damn it, sir. Are you nuts?"), and wind up hiding him in their cellar. Meanwhile Gregor gets a visit from Alys in which she reveals that she's been blackmailed, and an hour later gets a visit from Miles in which he relates that his suspicions after reading the ImpSec report are that lightflyer + buggered stunner cartridge = Simon going on a fishing expedition, and shouldn't we be planning a manhunt instead of a state funeral? Gregor suggests letting Simon fish undisturbed, and sends Miles to Komarr to meet his parents on their way and guard Aral's flank. Then he hears from Laisa that Delia has twice begged off going with her mother to visit Lady Alys, and neatly corners her the next day at a luncheon to tell her that it's such a pity one can't talk to the dead, but he does have a few tidbits of information for her. Delia duly informs Simon of Gregor's message, and then carries one back, without ever having to admit that she knows Simon is alive, because Gregor and Simon are both so elliptical like that and Delia is more than capable of playing along. And then other mumblety mumble stuff happens and there's a showdown in a dark house in which Alys and Simon are both after the villain and meet in the silent shadows and she avoids shooting him with her plasma arc, and her wordless reaction to absorbing his living self is to hit him in the face and then hug him fiercely, and then they catch the villain together and they and Gregor are all very ruthless somehow, and the day is saved, and what the plan is for dealing with the Secret I have noooo idea.

So thanks, brain. I really appreciate the crack.

And now back to the Dante and the sticky flags, before I hie me to bed.
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It's a snowy morning and I am ficcing idly in my head. My brain wants to invent a new genre: the Barrayaran cozy mystery. It has one or two more nerve disruptors than the British variety, but what would you? Also, if I can ever manage to conceive a plausible crossover that involves Giles and Simon drinking tea and complaining about technology, I will so do it. Well...who says it has to be plausible?

...Damn, that snow is pretty.

And so it goes.

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