Okay, this whole Writers of the Future incident has taken only 36 hours and in my view went from fireworks to pitchforks and torches to inviting me to sit around the campfire to toast marshmallows. I have apparently stumbled into a friendly village that I never knew existed, though maybe my clumsy bumbling into town startled some folks. Everything is cool now.
Have a marshmallow. I hope you like them burnt.