It’s that time of year again. Leaves drifting and wheeling, pumpkin spice pervading, jack-o-lantern smiles splitting suburban yards, and, wait for it, the motivational banners that proclaim this it, the year, the month: November. This time, you’re finally going to write that novel.
Of course, November is also the month in which school starts really, really crushing the boot down; August, September, and October are merely a prelude. Before November, school is winding up; November is when the hit lands. If you’re a winter season athlete, good luck getting more than five spare minutes between practice, homework, and dinner. (I am a winter season athlete, if you couldn’t tell.) Us high schoolers have to square our obligations to the canon of Literature with the realities of the education system.
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