<?xml version="1.0" encoding="ISO-8859-1"?>
<rss version="2.0">
	<channel>
		<title>Sara Anne Wood | WritersCafe.org</title>
		<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/saraannewood</link>
		<description>The original writings of author Sara Anne Wood</description>
		<language>en-us</language>
		<copyright>Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org</copyright>
		<lastBuildDate>1776264983</lastBuildDate>
		<generator>WritersCafe.org RSS Generator</generator>
		<ttl>15</ttl>
		<item>
			<title>Four: Crossroads of America</title>
			<description>&quot;The world owes you nothing. It was here first.&quot; - Mark Twain</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/saraannewood/671558/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Three: Quae Sursum Volo Videre (Latin, &amp;ldquo;I long to see what is beyond&amp;rdquo;)</title>
			<description>The Chippewa have a word for it &amp;ndash; it means &amp;ldquo;the Sickness of Long Thinking.&amp;rdquo; - Stef Penney</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/saraannewood/671556/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Two: The Land of Infinite Variety</title>
			<description>&quot;What do you plan to do with all your freedom?&quot; - Tori Amos</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/saraannewood/671184/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>One: The Last Best Place</title>
			<description>&quot;I don&amp;rsquo;t know; this could break my heart or save me.&quot; - Clarkson, Eubanks, McEntire, Messer</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/saraannewood/670989/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Backstory</title>
			<description>&quot;There was no way of describing the terror I felt.&quot; - Hunter S. Thompson</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/saraannewood/670987/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>I-90</title>
			<description>BACKSTORYThere was no way of describing the terror I felt.-Hunter S. ThompsonThere was something about the way he was looking at me that completely unnerved me. I sat lightly on my chair, as if to reassure myself that I could spring up and run away on a second&amp;rsquo;s notice. The room seemed..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/saraannewood/670986/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>The Press Secretary</title>
			<description>	The final, frenzied days of that mayoral campaign had us all running around madly - everyone needed help with something, from someone - and as the closest thing to a catch-all that the budget would allow, I was in and out of our little building on Washington Street more times than I could count.	..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/saraannewood/670639/</link>
		</item>
		<item>
			<title>Annabelle/Michael</title>
			<description>MICHAELI met her for the first time when she was 10, in South Carolina. She was at our Passover Seder with her parents and older sister. She had her Bat Mitzvah 18 months later, when she was 12. Precious. Precocious.ANNABELLEHe and his wife had my family over for dinner a number of times. Wh..</description>
			<image></image>
			<link>http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/saraannewood/670633/</link>
		</item>
	</channel>
</rss>