I love my writer’s group. I love them like a family. The kind of family you see in prime time television. Not quite the Cosby Show perhaps, or even Everybody Loves Raymond. More like… Hmm. Let me think about it a moment and see if I can come up with a more precise analogy. In the meantime–some facts about our group:
If we’d been perfectly consistent, tomorrow night would mark our 200th session, as we’ve been meeting roughly every two weeks since the summer of 2000. Of course, we haven’t been perfectly consistent, so we’re probably approaching something more like the 150th or even 125th meeting given the reschedules, postponements, and temporary gaps that have occurred over the years. And, of course, when I say “we,” I’m stretching the definition a bit. Todd Fahnestock joined in 2002, followed by Giles Carwyn, Chris Mandeville, Morgen Thomas, and, most recently, Leslie Hedrick. During that time, the other founding members all went on to other places and other things, but the soul of the group has, in my mind, been maintained.
Every writer’s group is different, of course. Some meet online, some in person. Some focus on improv writing, some on revision. Some are supportive and uplifting. Others make fun of you at least once per meeting for each of the previous 142 meetings over the last eight years.
Our typical agenda goes like this. Every two weeks, on Friday nights, we meet at a different member’s house. The host cooks a big meal and we spend the first two hours (at least) eating, talking, and making fun of me. This is followed by another 3 to 5 hours of reading aloud and commenting on each other’s work (and, when appropriate, making fun of me).
We’ve experimented with time limits, but typically reverted to a general free-for-all in which each person reads as much as s/he wants and then we make comments until we’re all talked out. While long, the process does, generally, leave each person with far too much information to assimilate and the desire to give up writing forever and go to work in a war zone, slaughterhouse or forced labor camp where one could hope to find a shred more human decency.
Eureka! The television show we most resemble: America’s Most Wanted–only with a bit less compassion and a bit more ritual homicide. I joke, of course. None of us, not even Morgen Thomas who I do not live in constant fear of, has ever killed. More than three or four people. Ritually. At a time.
Ha ha. I jest, of course. In truth, our group is immensely supportive, but part of that support is that we’re painfully honest and often highly critical. This forces us all to strive constantly to improve and has, I think, made us all better and more prepared for the challenges of publishing. Giles and Todd have recently finished their third book in a 3 book contract with Harper Collins. (If you haven’t already discovered “Heir of Autumn” and the sequel “Mistress of Winter,” you should immediately hop over to Amazon and order your copies.) The rest of us, meanwhile, are getting much closer to our own contracts and I fully expect to celebrate our 300th (roughly) meeting as a group of authors all of whom are published, successful novelists.
(Okay. They just left. Please, if you’re reading this, call 911. I’m locked in Morgen’s basement, bound by strands of human ligament. Wait! They’re coming b…)
Need another hapless writer to join you? I know self-defense and CPR…Might be a wise addition seeing as there could be, from what it sounds like, a ritual killing on any given night…I’ve been looking for a real writers group here in town.
Email me if you have the time.
yours in words,
Cicily