Last night, despite the rain, I made it to my writers group. It was the first time I went to a meeting since before the Little Miss was born, meaning since mid-summer. I was a bit surprised at how many new faces I saw there, but perhaps I shouldn’t have been; it is a good group, and after all, I had been away for about five months or so.
The group critiques stories every other week. On the non-critique sessions, there is some other activity planned, a discussion, talk, exercise, etc. Last night the group discussed individual writing goals for 2012. The goals were framed as being specific, measurable, and attainable. It was interesting to hear what different people planned to do throughout the year. Nearly everyone, it seems, is writing or wants to write a novel. Or finish a novel they’ve written. Or query agents for a novel they’ve finished. Thankfully, I have no interest in this. My heart is in short fiction and that is where I imagine it will stay for the duration. Indeed, not wanting to write novels means not worrying about finding an agent. And that, of course, frees up time to focus on other things, like writing more short stories.
The group meets every Wednesday from 7-9pm and usually, a bunch of the group goes out to a bar or diner after the meeting. I frequently join them, but last night I couldn’t. Kelly was home with both kids and I promised I would only be gone for the duration of the meeting and then return home. I was just grateful for the few hours I had to rejoin the group and catch up with some of my friends there. It was nice to be back.
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