Formerly Strangers

The Writing Group

I’m in a writing group

Why do I make time, most Saturdays at noon, for a group of writers I’ve never met in person? 

For the record, it’s a Writing Group, not a writing class.  Sometimes a couple of us, often closer to six professional and amateur writers, living all over the country, carrying our own backpack filled with rocks and rainbows meet to put words down.  

We all call ourselves writers; some published, some self published, some journal junkies, on various timelines to put our gifts with the world.  Pens, paper, notepads, laptops are welcome from bedrooms, offices, coffee shops, decks, couches or cars parked outside of grocery stores. The Writing Group accomplishes so much in our stolen weekend time slot. 

Years ago, Brene Brown begged us to write permission slips for ourselves to breathe deeply, emoting what’s been held in. For the Writing Group, skipping right to the heart of the matter, we drape each other in blanket-sized permission slips expressing our sentiments without judgment or timelines. I’m well on my way to a book proposal and a book on Mid Career Shifts. Most of what I type during our group each Saturday isn’t finished but the community pulls threads for me to dive under rather than drowning in doubt.

Formerly strangers, we know more about each other than many of our dear friends. Not a Saturday hour exists without the unburdening of stories. Tears come through scribbles, laughter ricochets through acknowledgement, zoom room silent claps capture support through video screens, head nods of recognition boost our shaky voices. I am seen. I see the Writer’s Group with equal portions of love and gratitude. 

A year or so ago, we bounded out of Amber Rae’s first On The Page session and into a weekend writing room. Lead by Jared Glenn, he’s often the only male on the team. This Writing Group is a noteworthy inversion of my former work-life, surrounded by men for the majority of my days. I am rooting for all of us to keep going, praying we stay connected. 

What the Writing Group gives me.

Space - An hour a week might seem like a smidge of time, but I bask in its efficiently.

Ideas - Our initial free writing time and subsequent prompts provoke conversations.  When my fingers cannot find anything to type, the tendrils of storytelling end up in mini-posts like this substack.  

Prompts - Better than any Google search, the prompts Jared shares are mine to invent a story, article, scribble or find a new angle. Recently, with my book in mind, I found an approach to my long winded career idea. 

Time with my emotions- From 12.00pm - 1.00pm ET Saturdays, my heartstrings flutter, my mind goes on a rinse cycle. Even when my girls ask me where their favorite shirt is, my focus whips back. Not wanting to miss any prose, I am in it with others who hold my hand in this writing thing. 

Photo by Florian Klauer on Unsplash

What they don’t give me.

Judgment - I share my writing output about fifty percent of the time. No one pushes me to do more than I want to. What a fucking gift!

Expectations more than showing up– We aren’t forced to read or comment on other’s words but the heartbeat of the Writing Group is one you want to uphold.

Overstepping - So many relationships in my life overstep into my lane. My husband fiddles with laundry cycles, neighbors asking about our backyard project, my colleagues commenting with unsolicited feedback. The Writing Group is there to hammock my budding craft without moving into my space. That feels safer than most communities I know.

Photo by Ian Schneider on Unsplash

Am I a better writer? Maybe.

Am I creating more? Yes. 

Am I showing up for myself? Yes yes yes.

Am I hearing others and playing off of their creativity? Sometimes.

Am I finding time in a world of busy bee bullshit? Yes.

Are there ten notebooks with forgotten sentences? Absolutely. 

My clarity prescription: Go find yourself a place to be held.

 

In good energy, 

Lynn of The Writing Group; Saturdays until the end of time.