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	<title>Nancy M. Campbell</title>
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	<link>http://nancymcampbell.com</link>
	<description>Just a girl with a pen. And occasional ninjas.</description>
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		<title>Nancy M. Campbell</title>
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		<title>Fiction: A Question</title>
		<link>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/05/17/fiction-a-question/</link>
		<comments>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/05/17/fiction-a-question/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 18 May 2012 01:46:44 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nancy</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://nancymcampbell.com/?p=153</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[&#8220;I swear to God, Nina,&#8221; she said, settling back in her chair, &#8220;You are a frickin&#8217; artist.&#8221; She pulled a tuft of bread from its crusty envelope, swiping lines in her still-warm bowl. I wiped my hands on my apron, &#8220;Thanks, babe.&#8221; I held up an iron teapot. &#8220;Coffee?&#8221; Her hair rested in dark whispers; &#8230; <span class="more-link"><a href="http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/05/17/fiction-a-question/">Continue reading &#187;</a></span><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=nancymcampbell.com&#038;blog=31718472&#038;post=153&#038;subd=nancymcampbelldotcom&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>11</slash:comments>
	
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		<title>Fiction: A New Song</title>
		<link>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/05/03/fiction-a-new-song/</link>
		<comments>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/05/03/fiction-a-new-song/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 03 May 2012 20:54:30 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nancy</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[creative writing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[ID]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://nancymcampbell.com/?p=145</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[His crossed arms answered her question before he spoke. She glanced at her scuffed Doc Martens and fishnet stockings.  Sweat trickled to the small of her back. &#8220;Are you going to let me in?&#8221; She crossed her own arms, reminded herself to breathe. He wiped his brow with a forearm. Biceps bulging, eyes weary. &#8220;C&#8217;mon &#8230; <span class="more-link"><a href="http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/05/03/fiction-a-new-song/">Continue reading &#187;</a></span><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=nancymcampbell.com&#038;blog=31718472&#038;post=145&#038;subd=nancymcampbelldotcom&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>12</slash:comments>
	
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		<title>Memoir: Candlelight.</title>
		<link>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/04/26/memoir-candlelight/</link>
		<comments>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/04/26/memoir-candlelight/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 26 Apr 2012 19:47:36 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nancy</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Memoir]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[creative non-fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[failth]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[memoir]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://nancymcampbell.com/?p=138</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I walked through the darkened hallway, clutching the hands of Sarah and Amy. We were three links  on a long chain of teenagers. As we approached the church, I felt goosebumps, a quickening. We threaded inside, and there was music. Candlelight. My mother, my father, and so many others, bathing us in song, swaddling our &#8230; <span class="more-link"><a href="http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/04/26/memoir-candlelight/">Continue reading &#187;</a></span><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=nancymcampbell.com&#038;blog=31718472&#038;post=138&#038;subd=nancymcampbelldotcom&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>12</slash:comments>
	
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		<title>Memoir: Makeover</title>
		<link>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/04/20/memoir-makeover/</link>
		<comments>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/04/20/memoir-makeover/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 20 Apr 2012 13:14:31 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nancy</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Memoir]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[acceptance]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[creative non-ficiton]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[memoir]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://nancymcampbell.com/?p=131</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I wake up each morning with my hair gleaming, soft waves of bronze light framing my face. My eyes are a warm, liquid brown, flecked with golden light. The lipstick is flawless, and my clothing crisp and stylish. Metaphorically, anyway. My degrees and achievements? I wear them like a grown-up Girl Scout sash. Here&#8217;s my &#8230; <span class="more-link"><a href="http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/04/20/memoir-makeover/">Continue reading &#187;</a></span><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=nancymcampbell.com&#038;blog=31718472&#038;post=131&#038;subd=nancymcampbelldotcom&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>13</slash:comments>
	
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		<title>Shark&#8217;s Tooth</title>
		<link>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/04/16/sharks-tooth/</link>
		<comments>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/04/16/sharks-tooth/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 17 Apr 2012 02:18:02 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nancy</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Memoir]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[creative non-ficiton]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[grief]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[memoir]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://nancymcampbell.com/?p=126</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[The clouds perched on the night sky, frothy and expectant. I followed the moon, leaving my friends to their campfire and sangria. A breeze lifted my skirt as I walked, the sand squishing between my toes. I rested, tracing hills and valleys in the sand. My heart stilled, and I felt something rounded, pointy, and &#8230; <span class="more-link"><a href="http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/04/16/sharks-tooth/">Continue reading &#187;</a></span><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=nancymcampbell.com&#038;blog=31718472&#038;post=126&#038;subd=nancymcampbelldotcom&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>12</slash:comments>
	
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		<title>Memoir: Summer of 87</title>
		<link>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/04/09/memoir-summer-of-87/</link>
		<comments>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/04/09/memoir-summer-of-87/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 10 Apr 2012 01:20:31 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nancy</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Memoir]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://nancymcampbell.com/?p=119</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[We&#8217;re talking about finding the grace in the awkward years at Write on Edge this week. Her eyes often darted over my shoulder, looking for somebody more popular to talk to. Julie always did this. I knew her better than anybody. After all, I was her best friend. I knew her secrets. I saw her &#8230; <span class="more-link"><a href="http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/04/09/memoir-summer-of-87/">Continue reading &#187;</a></span><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=nancymcampbell.com&#038;blog=31718472&#038;post=119&#038;subd=nancymcampbelldotcom&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>10</slash:comments>
	
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		<title>RemembeRED: Prayer for a Son</title>
		<link>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/03/20/remembered-prayer-for-a-son/</link>
		<comments>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/03/20/remembered-prayer-for-a-son/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 20 Mar 2012 09:56:44 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nancy</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Memoir]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[humor]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[memoir]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[prayer for son]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Tina Fey Bossypants]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://nancymcampbell.com/?p=112</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[We&#8217;re talking about hope today at Write on Edge. Concrit is welcome for this piece. I decided to revisit a post I wrote about a year ago. It&#8217;s based off Tina Fey&#8217;s brilliant &#8220;Prayer for a Daughter&#8221; from her memoir, Bossypants.  Prayer for a Son Oh, Lord&#8212;please nerd this kid up. Not so much that &#8230; <span class="more-link"><a href="http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/03/20/remembered-prayer-for-a-son/">Continue reading &#187;</a></span><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=nancymcampbell.com&#038;blog=31718472&#038;post=112&#038;subd=nancymcampbelldotcom&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>14</slash:comments>
	
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		<title>On Pinterest</title>
		<link>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/03/12/on-pinterest/</link>
		<comments>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/03/12/on-pinterest/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 13 Mar 2012 03:59:08 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nancy</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Memoir]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[This Thing Called Mom]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[creative non-fiction]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[memoir]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[parenting]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Pinterest]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://nancymcampbell.com/?p=107</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[(We&#8217;re talking about unhealthy comparisons at Write on Edge.) I finger comb his hair, and wipe stray smatterings of syrup from his face. &#8220;Did you brush your teeth?&#8221; He nods. &#8220;Open,&#8221; I say, scanning his mouth. &#8220;I can still see some orange left. Do it again.&#8221; His shoulders slump, &#8220;Why do I have to do &#8230; <span class="more-link"><a href="http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/03/12/on-pinterest/">Continue reading &#187;</a></span><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=nancymcampbell.com&#038;blog=31718472&#038;post=107&#038;subd=nancymcampbelldotcom&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>26</slash:comments>
	
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		<title>Flaming Red</title>
		<link>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/03/08/flaming-red/</link>
		<comments>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/03/08/flaming-red/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 08 Mar 2012 14:35:52 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nancy</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Memoir]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[This Thing Called Mom]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[hair]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[LTYM DC]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[memoir]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[motherhood]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://nancymcampbell.com/?p=101</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[This is the piece I auditioned for Listen to Your Mother-DC. Although it was not selected, I am proud of it and want to release it to the world.  Flaming Red &#8220;So, what are we doing today?&#8221; Natalie asks, spinning my chair towards the mirror. I release my hair from its lank ponytail. Dark caverns &#8230; <span class="more-link"><a href="http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/03/08/flaming-red/">Continue reading &#187;</a></span><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=nancymcampbell.com&#038;blog=31718472&#038;post=101&#038;subd=nancymcampbelldotcom&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>13</slash:comments>
	
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			<media:title type="html">nancymcampbell</media:title>
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		<title>Year of Adventure</title>
		<link>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/03/07/year-of-adventure/</link>
		<comments>http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/03/07/year-of-adventure/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 07 Mar 2012 12:18:27 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Nancy</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[This Thing Called Mom]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Year of Adventure]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[LTYM DC]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[self-discovery]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Woodrow Wilson Footpath]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://nancymcampbell.com/?p=94</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[I turned 37 on Monday. To celebrate, I decided to have a mini mid-life crisis. I know. How very tedious. Thankfully, this crisis will involve neither plastic surgery nor sports cars, because while I wouldn&#8217;t mind either of those things, I just don&#8217;t have enough Real Housewife in me to pull it off. Over coffee, &#8230; <span class="more-link"><a href="http://nancymcampbell.com/2012/03/07/year-of-adventure/">Continue reading &#187;</a></span><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=nancymcampbell.com&#038;blog=31718472&#038;post=94&#038;subd=nancymcampbelldotcom&#038;ref=&#038;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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		<slash:comments>9</slash:comments>
	
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			<media:title type="html">Ntl Harbor Statue</media:title>
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