Last night I went to a writer’s group for the first time since… well, the last one I went to was before Thanksgiving, I think. We had a harsh winter this past year, and I was exhausted from putting in extra hours shoveling snow, and then I just kind of got out of the habit by the time the weather cleared.
Also, I had no car of my own. My roommate has been very generous about giving me rides, but I hate to ask her.
However, I now have my own wheels again (thanks to my sister) and I was able to go last night. I realized how much I had missed it. It was a very small group (there were three of us) at a coffee shop named after a character in Moby Dick (Ishmeal’s? No, that doesn’t sound quite right.)
It was too loud to read samples, but we had a really good time talking. Two of us have stories in a collection that is going to be released soon called Sins Of The Past, and that’s looking really good. I like writing short stories, and one of the other writers had some good suggestions for finding more anthologies that accepted submissions.
I realized that I do get lonely, as misanthropic as I am. Getting out and being able to talk face to face with other writers is important to me, and I’m going to make sure I maek it priority for next month.