Writing Group's Back, Baby...

My writing group's back. The Liverpool-based Poised Pen Writers' Group have reassembled post-pandemic*. Fortnightly meetings in the backroom of a Portuguese restaurant have returned. Hurrah!

The ideal reaction.
(Only if I've read something
intentionally funny.)

It was one of the things I missed, you see. At least, I think I did. In the before times, I'd turn up to each meeting, clutching copies of the latest chapter that I'd prepared to share. I knew it was a deeply useful thing to do. Of course it was. To have non-relatives and critical listeners respond objectively to the stuff I churned out was essential to the writing process. It was a fortnightly opportunity I couldn't afford to waste. And then there were the benefits I got in return. Listening to others share their own varied writing. That was as useful to me as it was to share my own. Having to consider how I would tackle that subject, how I would phrase that experience, whether I would express myself differently or in the same way the writer had... it all helped strengthen what I was creating myself. 

Relatable

But there was a problem. Week in, week out. You see, sharing your deepest, darkest thoughts and creative efforts for the judgement of others is not the relaxing, chilled out experience you might think. I know, right? Who knew? It was really stressful and always required a large white wine at the start. To bolster the nerves and to kid myself that this was useful AND social. There were times when I wondered why I put myself through it. Besides, it could feel like a right faff. Schlepping through town and pushing my forty-three year-old self through the buzz of youth spilling out from the student bars, only ever served to remind me how out of the loop I was in terms of socialising and knowing the places to go. Plus, there was a hill. Mount Pleasant is steep when you're pushed for time. My train was always late and I was always in a rush.

But that was then. The last meeting was March 2020 and then - what was it again? - something big happened. You remember? Anyway, the Poised Pen writers were housebound and kept apart for sixteen months. 

A dramatic reconstruction
of the first week back.

Fast forward to now and we've had two meetings back. And you know what? It feels different. First off, the book I was sharing is done so I've not read anything out loud yet. But secondly, neither has anyone else. Not at the first meeting, anyway. That quickly became a wine and chat and catching up and 'isn't it great to be out' meeting. It wasn't a meeting at all, to be honest. No one read a word, no minutes were taken, and it was bottles rather than glasses of wine that were ordered. On top of that, the backroom of the restaurant had changed too. In that, we weren't in it. We were in the refurbed, souped up, twinkly paradise of the outside seating area. It was so pretty. That first meeting, on a warm July evening, with everyone reconnecting after such a long time, was beautiful. Disclaimer. There was a lot of wine. 

Two weeks later, we tried harder. The catching-up-chat only lasted an hour and then three people shared their writing. I even took minutes and everything. 

Getting back to normality doesn't happen overnight. We know that, right? I still reckon that the next meeting will take a while to kick in. People want to socialise and speak to each other in the flesh. It's only natural. The nuts and bolts of writing support will return fully eventually. It's why we all came in the first place. But there's no reason to rush it. It'll come. And unlike back in the day when my glass of wine was to force me to see this as pleasurable, it really is now. To be fair, it always was then, once I'd finished reading. 

For now, it's both lovely and tiring. Fab to catch up with everyone, but exhausting too. Getting a train, walking up Mount Pleasant, attempting the structure and routine of a minuted meeting, gathering courage to read aloud, and then - can you even imagine? - getting the last train home. Like I'm a dirty stopout having all sorts of wild shenanigans. Shattering! Every other Wednesday's now an event. An expedition. A trek. A fabulous trek, nonetheless. But one I hope I won't take for granted again.  

Have a lovely week, folks.

*Yeah. I know we're not post anything in reality.