raid on the studio of a blacktop motorcyle gang artist

it was an overcast evening and pre-halloween zombies were howling in the back alleys when when the writing hurts like hell workshop descended on studio4ward to poke around, listen to the sights, hear the colors, smell the contours, and touch the magic of a place of where miracles are born.

words were written and words were recited, and in the end, something happened.

writers took another step towards becoming writers.

from left to right are bill, fiona, jilanna, jolene, judy, ian, and claire. seated is whitefeather, a brilliant crafter, artist, singer, writer and incredibly special person, thinking wonderful thoughts about writer soup, similar to tourist soup (which can trigger recipe searches), but with a little more imagery.

missing from the pic is jenn, but she was there in spirit.