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Making it up as I go along

Making it up as I go along

Tag Archives: Snow Sisters

Interview with Judith Barrow

16 Sunday Jul 2017

Posted by Carol Lovekin in Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Ghostbird, Interview, Narberth Book Fair, Snow Sisters

Island Life, Word Birds & Process

As part of her series of Author & Poet Interviews for the upcoming Narberth Book Fair, one of the events organisers, the wondrous Judith Barrow, invited me. Having failed at the re-blogging, I’ve copied it.

Our author today is the ever ebullient and friendly fellow Honno author, Carol Lovekin.

Carol Lovekin

Let’s start by you telling us why you write, please, Carol.

Because I can’t play the piano is the glib answer. The truth is simpler: I love it. I’m me when I write. The person it took me years to become. And reading books made me want to write them. I can’t say I have huge ambitions (other than winning the Bailey’s Women’s Prize, obvs.) I write because it makes me happy.

What do you love most about the writing process?
The unfolding of the story. How it emerges as a spark, a ‘What if?’ moment and unfolds into an outline and a plot. I love the way characters make themselves known to me. It’s like meeting new friends, people I had no idea existed. And I’m addicted to editing.

What is your work schedule like when you’re writing?
I’m a lark and awake with the birds. I often handwrite in bed over a cup of tea. Random ideas, scenes and vignettes for my current story, for the next one and quite often the one I’m planning down the line. Each story has its own notebook. My aim is to be at my desk, working on my current story no later than ten o’clock. If I’m feeling particularly creative – down and deep with my story – it’s often a lot earlier. Word count is of no concern to me – showing up is what matters.

What do you think makes a good story?
Characters who endear themselves to me on the first page; perhaps shock me. So long as they make me want to find out more. A quality writing style that draws me in. I don’t mind simple stories – a sense of place is as important to me as a convoluted plot. That said, I’m a sucker for a twist that takes my breath away.

How many books have you written? Which is your favourite?
Two. (The ones in the metaphorical dusty drawer don’t count.) Asking me to pick a favourite is a borderline Sophie’s Choice scenario, Judith! Ghostbird because it was the book that validated me as a writer. Snow Sisters because it proves I’m not a one-trick pony!

ghostbird

I love this cover

What genre do you consider your books? Have you considered writing in another genre?
I call them ghost stories laced with magic; contemporary fiction with a trace of mystery. My mentor, the lovely Janet Thomas, says they are family stories (with magic.) Which I guess is as good a description as any since, magical edges notwithstanding, they are firmly rooted in family relationships. I feel as if I’ve found my niche as a writer and have no plans to write in any other genre.

Could you tell us a bit about your most recent book and why it is a must-read?
Snow Sisters explores what can happen when an act of kindness, enacted by a child, offers the hope of redemption to a tragic ghost with a horrific secret. It’s also a story of love, exploring the ties that bind sisters. And the tragic ones that can destroy mothers and daughters.

In three words, can you describe your latest book?
Ghostly. Quirky. Welsh.

Does your book have a lesson? Moral?
I don’t trust morality! Perhaps: Listen to your grandmother for she is wiser than Yoda?

Do your characters seem to hijack the story or do you feel like you have the reins of the story?
Regularly. I’ve come to the conclusion it’s some kind of Literary Law. At some point characters are required to run off into the wild wordy wood and we have no choice but to follow, more often than not without our breadcrumbs.

Do you have any hidden or uncommon talents?
I’m a trained ballet dancer.

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
Although I begin at the beginning, within less time than it takes for me to say, ‘Oh look, shiny!’ I’m off to the middle (anywhere, frankly) and I can be gone some time. I write entire scenes in isolation slotting them into the narrative as I go.

What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
I read, swim and walk. After writing and reading, swimming is the best thing ever. Each week I discuss writing with my talented friend and co-conspirator, Janey. We are the sole members of the smallest writing group in Wales.

What is the most amusing thing that has ever happened to you? Not particularly to do with your writing.
Meeting Margaret Atwood in the eighties made me smile for a week.

Give us a random fact about yourself.
I don’t like even numbers.

That was fun! Thanks, Judith!

The two-trick pony & the ghosts in her machine

28 Sunday May 2017

Posted by Carol Lovekin in Uncategorized

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Ghostbird, Quotations, RiverBook, Snow Sisters, Virginia Woolf, Writing

Island Life, Word Birds & Process

Although I like authors who reinvent themselves, I’m partial to familiarity too. Publishers, agents & editors tend to like ‘more of the same’ & in my experience, readers lap it up. This is not to say a writer shouldn’t stretch herself. ‘RiverBook’ – the story I thought was going to be a follow-up to Ghostbird – has no ghost. It has a much older main protagonist too. I first abandoned it to write Snow Sisters – which came out of left field insisting ghost stories (& sister stories) are what I write.

With this book accepted for publication, the one-hit wonder is on the road to becoming a two-trick pony. And what larks that evokes! I’m a book-writer now & no mistake. I need new shoes at the very least!

While Snow Sisters waits patiently in the copy-edit queue, I have to write something. It made sense to reacquaint myself with ‘River’ which I did, only to be ambushed yet again by another ghost. Once more, poor ‘River’ has been usurped (there’s no other word for it) by a sneaky interloper dragging a spook behind her…

If the cap fits we are told, wear it. And so I shall. Once again my cap is made from mist & secrets & stretches of endless Welsh sky. It’s decorated with raven feathers & when I set it aside, I swear it whispers fragments of words which can only be the voice of a ghost…

Currently, it’s a muddle; the usual random scribbles but as I place them on the page, something more solid begins to emerge.

Naturally, there is a level of apprehension attached to writing ‘more of the same’ but I comfort myself with the thought that it’s good enough for some of my literary sheroes. And I have no particular desire to take a different direction. I have no need to reinvent myself – at this stage I’m barely invented! I know my place if you like & it suits. In the end, it will be down to my reader. If Snow Sisters suits then why not write another ghost story? Why not set another book in my beloved Welsh hinterland among the bones of dragons, conjuring spells and listening for the voice of a ghost?

And who knows, perhaps ‘RiverBook’ will one day make it out of the shallows. She has four drafts to her name & the tenacity of a terrier.

NPG Ax142596; Virginia Woolf (nÈe Stephen) by Lady Ottoline Morrell

How are we to account for the strange human craving for the pleasure of feeling afraid which is so much involved in our love of ghost stories?
~ Virginia Woolf

Notions of story, hiraeth & heart’s home

07 Sunday May 2017

Posted by Carol Lovekin in Uncategorized

≈ 13 Comments

Tags

Blodeuwedd, Dylan Thomas, Extract, Ghostbird, Mythology, Snow Sisters

Island Life, Word Birds & Process

My definition of my nationality, if anyone asks, is ‘Irish blood, Welsh heart.’ Like most British people I’m a hybrid, made from two kinds of Celt & a bit of Warwickshire. My mother was from Northern Ireland, a nurse, singer & classically trained pianist; my father was half-Southern Irish with a streak of English & an ability to play the blues piano by ear. I grew up with love, boundaries, music & stories. Many of the latter were read to me by my mum, some of them I imagined. (I made up stories for my sister & to this day, she still hasn’t forgiven me for failing to finish the saga of The Veiled Lady.)

Lots of the stories my daddy told me were from mythology. I loved them all & still do. Legends & folklore inform more contemporary fiction than we realise. I borrowed Blodeuwedd’s story from the Mabinogion for Ghostbird. I’m conjuring my version of the selkie legend for my third book & for my fourth, writing one based on my favourite folktale, The Red Shoes.

Snow Sisters, my second novel, due out in September, is the only one of my books without an obvious myth running through it. What it does have is a strong link to a different kind of Welsh mythos. (This isn’t even the right word; it’s the best I can come up with.) I’ve lived in Wales long enough to understand the notion of hiraeth: the ineffable longing for home, almost impossible to translate or put into words. It’s a feeling more than a descriptor, an occasional sense of grief; a disconnect surrounding your heart like a whispered poem evoking the emotion of separation, or perhaps the absence of presence. At its most emotive & fundamental, hiraeth is a longing for the unattainable, possibly existing only in one’s imagination.

In Snow Sisters, in lieu of a myth, I invoke my interpretation of hiraeth as experienced by Verity & Meredith Price, two young girls uprooted by their mother & transported to London, but whose sense of themselves is irrevocably connected to their hearts’ home in Wales.

Curled into her sister’s warmth, Meredith dreamed of the blue garden, the moths and the world beyond the veil, and that she was finally taken by the Fae. In her place they left a well-behaved changeling child for her mother to take to London.
When she woke, she pinched her arm and knew her wish hadn’t worked.

The Welsh own hiraeth as part of their identity – like a blood tie or an inherited name. Like dragons, Tom Jones’ green grass of home or a Dylan Thomas poem. And laced with pathos though it is, hiraeth can be droll & joyful too.

‘If there’s a word for it,’ wrote the poet, Jo Bell, ‘it sounds like laughter.’

I like that. The idea that come what may & however far from heart’s home we travel; we sense a link like a note of laughter, even if we have a tear in our eye & a lump in our throat.

I’ll leave the last words to Dylan Thomas…

‘Time held me green and dying
Though I sang in my chains like the sea
.

~ Fern Hill

Dylan-Thomas-2-426x279

Directions & snippets

23 Sunday Apr 2017

Posted by Carol Lovekin in Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Beach, Editing, Extract, Snow Sisters

Island Life, Word Birds & Process

In the aftermath of Epic Editing, a few days in a state of limbo seemed like a plan. With nothing urgent to crack on with I allowed myself to land, consider the accumulated muddle in my flat, admire the dust; look for a new set of directions.

I have a date with the Llandeilo Literary Festival next weekend & have been gathering the threads for my role as moderator on one of the panels. Otherwise – writing wise – apart from on-going note taking for books 3 & 4, I was at a bit of a loose end. Yesterday I decided to take myself off to a beach – by myself – to potter & ponder, trail along the sand, clamber over rocks like an elderly Brontë* on a day out to the seaside. (I don’t like jeans, preferring frocks; it’s amazing what you can get done in a skirt & sneakers…)

I drove north, to the seaside town of Aberaeron & the beach on the southern side of the harbour.

IMG-20170422-01178

It’s less populated than the one to the north & like the beach in Snow Sisters, hardly anyone goes there.

Snapping the book shut and shoving it in her pocket, she was about to go down to the stile and onto the beach when she spotted a figure, close to the cliff near the stone dragon. No one came to this end of the beach. It was a dead end and didn’t lead anywhere.
   The tide surged across the sand, closing in; leaving only a narrow strip of shingle to walk on. Ducking low, Verity scrambled down to the stile, peeked over the ledge and saw him. Tall and dark-haired, wearing a jacket with the collar turned up, his hands thrust into deep pockets.
   A tall man in a dark coat…

This location is based on another beach I know well, also situated at the southern end of a long strand made of sand & pebbles intersected by a harbour. To the west, across the bay, lies Ireland & my ancestors.

A boat appeared on the horizon, a flash of a distant sail.
   Meredith shaded her eyes. ‘Where does the sea end?’  
   ‘Ireland.’
   ‘Imagine if you were in a boat and you went on forever, not getting anywhere. Just rowed and rowed in your little boat.’
   Verity shivered. ‘Or swam.’

Quite. Much as I love to swim, I can’t imagine swimming to Ireland…

As an Air sign, the direction I most identify with is east. It’s the place of beginnings, where ideas are conjured & possibilities emerge. That’ll be the copy-edits proper then, the proofing & so forth. And a new cover. A new book!

I don’t do even numbers, so here’s a third snippet.

It’s the opening line…

My name is Angharad and I am not mad.

5cdde93def62060184d3a2e945ed0d2a

*No comparison to any Brontë sister is implied.

Rewrite, recite…

26 Wednesday Oct 2016

Posted by Carol Lovekin in Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Editing, Reading Out Loud, Snow Sisters, Structural Edits, Writing

Island Life, Word Birds & Process #24

On my bathroom wall hangs one of those pretty plaques – the kind with an elegant font & soothing words. Mine was a gift from my writing sister, Janey (aka Hexica for those of you who know me/her on Facebook.) It urges me to Relax, Refresh, Renew.

img-20161026-00451

I have no problem with this – I love my bath & as I’ve mentioned before, have a great many writing light bulb moments whilst lollygagging in rose & geranium-scented water. While I worked on this recent, detailed draft of my second book, it occurred to me to add a post-it note to the plaque with the word Rewrite on it.

It took me seven weeks to complete this structural rewrite & I’ve spent the last few days line-editing it too. As well as checking everything in sight with my squinty eyes, when I do a line-edit I read the dialogue out loud. It’s the only way to make sure it’s authentic. Sometime during the process, I considered adding Recite to the mantra.

Living alone has many benefits – not being considered nuts by your nearest & dearest when you talk to yourself (and answer) is one of them. As I waffled away the cat showed up, hopefully translating, ‘It was under a dustsheet, in an old wooden trunk with a pile of moth-eaten clothes’ into ‘Knock yourself out, Misty, have a whole sachet of Dreamies.’ It didn’t work of course & Misty is the mistress of the affronted sashay. (I know – couldn’t resist.) Off she went & I returned to my waffling.

On Twitter yesterday I noticed another friend has been going through exactly the same procedure. Jenny finished her own out loud read through (& added it was time to celebrate with chocolate.)

Quite.

It’s a good trick, this reading out loud lark & one that can’t be over-emphasised. As is the one involving chocolate.

A draft is a half-formed thing

16 Sunday Oct 2016

Posted by Carol Lovekin in Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

Books, Drafts, Editing, Editor, Ghostbird, Honno, Ideas, Quotations, Reading, Snow Sisters, Writers, Writing, Writing Group

Island Life, Word Birds & Process #24

Earlier in the week my writing group sister & I were discussing a quotation she’d come across. Anyone who knows me knows my take on these things. The more ‘inspirational’ they are the less likely I am to be enamoured. This one is different. It’s less inspirational & more common sense. We were in agreement.

“Hard writing makes easy reading. Easy writing makes hard reading.”

Although the quote has been officially credited to William Knowlton Zinsser, an American writer, literary critic, editor & teacher, it’s also been attributed to Ernest Hemingway. It hardly matters. For the purposes of making my point, I’m happy to have Hemingway on my side too. Neither writer meant ‘easy’ as in ‘peasy’ – they meant that when a book is easy to read the words flow, the eye is mesmerised; the pages turn as if by remote control because the whole is the the result of dedicated hard work, often  written in metaphorical blood.

My first book, Ghostbird, was published in March this year. It took me years to write, rewrite & eventually submit. It got rejected; I rewrote it, resubmitted & so forth. It was hard, hard work & eventually it paid off. I got a publishing deal with Honno, the Welsh Women’s Press. I think I can safely say, even if it isn’t your cup of tea, my book is easy to read.

I’m currently editing my second. I began writing it approximately eighteen months ago. The first draft was completed in roughly ten months which seemed ridiculously fast until I recognised I must have learned a few tricks on the way. (And there’s nothing like being published to make you want to write another book!) After I’d written the second draft (& edited the hell out of it) I submitted it to my editor, the gracious & scarily perceptive Janet Thomas. Her input was, as it always is, positive with added ‘buts.’

‘Buts’ are what a great editor excels at. ‘Buts’ are what they say after, ‘I love this part…’ It’s when the light bulbs go on, the boxes get ticked & the writer realises she still has work to do. It doesn’t matter because the solutions to the ‘buts’ make her heart sing.

This is my third draft – a deeply focused edit involving a good deal of rewriting based on Janet’s wise advice. I have excavated the layers beneath, accessed my authentic story; I’m doing the best I can for my characters. I hope to have this version finished by the end of the month. It will still be scrutinised again & possibly taken apart.

And here’s my point. The initial idea for our stories often comes out of somewhere unexpected. They take us by surprise, fire us up & it’s incredibly exciting. (I had the idea, characters & most of the story outlined for this current book in two days!) It’s the filling that takes the time. Writing a book is hard graft. There is more to it than a great idea. And a padded outline isn’t a story, a single draft isn’t enough. Neither is a second proofread, friend-read one. Until it’s been picked apart by someone with no agenda other than to make the story the best it can possibly be it remains a half-formed thing.

Unless one is Margaret Atwood – or someone of that calibre – an easy, quickly written story is a draft. Unedited, it grates on the eye, has the reader reaching for her metaphorical black pen. If we love our characters, have faith in our story why would we opt for easy? In my view, easy is lazy. Nothing worth doing comes without effort; least of all writing a book. It takes time, dedication & resolve.

anne-sexton

The title of this piece references the debut novel by Eimear McBride – A Girl is a Half-Formed Thing. It’s an extraordinary book, innovative & challenging, written in a mind- bending style that’s demands every iota of your attention. Once you give it, fall into the flow & joy of the prose, you realise this is a book that can only have taken the writer on the hardest of paths.

Writing never stops being hard but I reckon it’s the closest thing to bliss I’ve experienced. I’ve just finished reading a book that made me cry (in a good way), shake my head at the perfection of it. It wasn’t written & published in a few months. It has excellence, faultless research & attention to detail on every page. As I read, the pages turned by themselves, the words conjured spells & this morning when I came to the end, I stroked the cover & seriously considered going back to the beginning.

The book? It’s by Louise Beech & called The Mountain in My Shoe. I’ll be reviewing it soon, if I can resist reading it again.

The place in between

02 Sunday Oct 2016

Posted by Carol Lovekin in Uncategorized

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Birds, Book Fair, Editor, Island Life, Snow Sisters, Structural Edits, Writers, Writing

Island Life, Word Birds & Process #22

Waking early to a perfect Island Life scenario. Mist made of a million feathers, a sense of the Avalon barge, perhaps offering me a lift to the Isle of Apples. While my bath runs, I reread a handwritten letter from a friend & I’m reminded of what matters. Family, love, kindness.

Moments such as these stop me in my tracks. Gazing across the misty hill, I add writing to the list.

With another book fair behind me I confess myself – yet again – a reluctant self-promoter. I know it must be done & fair play, I do it quite well. It’s part of the process. I am indebted to Honno, my publisher; a bit of social media is the least I can do.

It was grand to be with other writers at the book fair, with readers who kindly bought my book.

img-20161001-00392-copy

And yet, today I’m experiencing relief because the next one isn’t until December.

The place in between stretches, uncluttered, silent save for the sound of the birds. I have need of them. To my astonishment, I’ve made it through the first half of the first round of structural edits on Book 2. It’s the second half that will test me however. It involves big changes. Good changes (I hope.) I must dig deep & put into practice the wisdom of my editor.

September is my favourite month. A new moon is emerging. My pencils are sharp. I’ve organised Premium bird seed & meal worms…

Onward & sideways.

Murder on the dance floor

04 Sunday Sep 2016

Posted by Carol Lovekin in Uncategorized

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

Ballet, Crow, Drafts, Editing, Ghostbird, Snow Sisters, The Kindness of Authors, Titles, Word Birds

Island Life, Word Birds & Process #19

It’s less about having two left feet and more that I’m putting my dancing shoes on the wrong ones. (And me a trained ballerina … at least I know what bloodied toes feel like…)

In the aftermath of the excitement, the reality of this edit is setting in. I’m still committed and as excited as I was last week. The task is nonetheless daunting. That said, I stuck to the plan and at the crack of Thursday’s new moon, embarked on my new draft. I’ve abandoned an entire plot-line. (It ought never to have been there frankly, but at the time it seemed like a great idea.)  Huge chunks of backstory are being flung out or set aside to be rewritten as good old ‘show not tell.’

And my title has gone, largely because the story wasn’t about … well, it wasn’t… Knowing what it is about makes the possibility of whatever mayhem lies ahead less scary. (The new title is lush!)

My crow is back – it’s September and the leaves on the birch tree are beginning to shed. I can see her – my favourite word bird – on the topmost branch, a reminder that it’s up to me and any time I’m up for it, I can join in.

heart crows

In other news – later in the day, the divine Amanda Jennings – author of In Her Wake – messaged me to the effect she’d been featured on BBC Radio Berkshire recommending Ghostbird! She called it ‘poetic,’ ‘a beautifully written hug’ and ‘utterly haunting.’ Being discussed on the radio was a bit of thrill and no mistake.

But, like a ballerina, a writer is only as good as her newest dance. Pass me the plasters, Marjory; I can feel the old fouetté rond de jambe en tournant coming on…

ballet shoes

Homework

28 Sunday Aug 2016

Posted by Carol Lovekin in Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Drafts, Editing, Editor, Island Life, Janet, Mist, Snow Sisters, Virginia Woolf, Word Birds

Island Life, Word Birds & Process #18

Summer mist imitates autumn making me realise how close the end of the season is. Earlier, from my bedroom window, it was a proper Island Life scenario: the hills draped with mist, a sense of dream-like isolation. I drank tea with Virginia Woolf, reluctant to get out of bed.

book VW

Now the sun is abroad, mocking my attempt at authenticity. Frankly, I wasn’t up early enough and the moment has passed. Unlike the weather, the Word Birds don’t vary their activity. They flutter and chatter, a constant murmuration of ideas. Draft three is upon me, dear reader – Process by another name. After a meeting with my mentor and editor, I am filled with joy at the prospect of a fairly intense rewrite of my second book. Weird maybe, but believe me, I mean it.

Janet never tells me what to write, she shows me my real story. It’s a magical process, a conversation driven by enquiries about my intention with regard to this or that character, and their intentions. I am never preached at – I’m asked why and it makes me think and dig deep. And now I have it – the story beneath so to speak – the  one I’m meant to be writing.

After the editorial lunch (I know – indulge me!) the process continued into the following morning, and my bath. (I have a lot of light bulb moments in the bath.) What pleases me most is that although Janet enabled me to see my story more clearly, in the aftermath I’ve worked out another lush strand which could become a recurring motif. One thing follows another and the story unfolds some more.

And at the risk of banging on – this is why writers need editors. Their job is to see what we miss. Not because we’re thick but because we’re often held too preciously in the original story vision. Editors are like school teachers. They dish out homework and if we do it we stand a better chance of passing the exam.

September is my favourite month. It’s the start of autumn and for me the best time to settle into a new writing project. Next Thursday is the first day of the month and it’s a new moon too. I’m taking a day or two to fix the domestic chaos, and write a new outline. Then I’m off into Draft Three with more excitement than I can adequately describe.

You have to write something, don’t you?

24 Sunday Jul 2016

Posted by Carol Lovekin in Uncategorized

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Tags

Ghostbird, Mythology, River Selkie, RiverBook, Snow Sisters, Writing

Island Life, Word Birds & Process # 14

One upon a time I wrote a story with the working title RiverBook. I began writing it before I got the deal for Ghostbird intending it to be my next book. Once it was done (by which time, Ghostbird had been accepted) I put it away and concentrated on the process of being published. But still, in between the edits, copy edits and general excitement, you have to write something, don’t you? Out of somewhere, I got the idea for SisterBook. It kept me occupied and would be my third book (assuming I even got a look in for a second.)

By the time Ghostbird was published, I realised Sisters was likely to be a better bet as a follow-up so River was virtually banished. Sisters is now finished and submitted and I’m back to square one. While I await my fate, what do I write? Got to write something etc… Out came River and with the benefit of distance I immediately realised it was wrong. It had something but it wasn’t right. Too complex – my default setting – for one thing.

One of the best aspects about writing Ghostbird was having a myth to hang my story on. A mise an abîme I could return to that kept me connected. (Sisters doesn’t have a myth – it’s a different kind of haunting.) River – to say the least – as it stood was a muddle of mythology. And therein lay my problem. Out of an over-indulgence in research I’d created a mini-monster. I wanted another legend but I wanted a simple one.

Lying in my bath about a fortnight ago, I worked it out. In the absence of a known myth, why not create my own?

Myths and legends evolve out of unconscious processes in the oral tradition. There is rarely any historical evidence for their veracity but the repeated telling of them renders them charismatic and ‘true’ and for our ancestors they became part of the collective psyche. And like religion or any spiritual path, myths have their roots in our human desire for a rationale: a cornerstone patterned with symbolism to hook our frailties and fears on. We create them out of imagination and random moments of connection to the natural world.

In other words, they’re all made up. There is no rule to gainsay this. We can all be the author of our own mythology.

Before I get too cosmic for my own good, here’s the point. I’ve made up a myth of my own and in doing so, now know exactly what RiverBook is about. Well, you have to write something, don’t you?

undine3_beautiful_girl (1)

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