Wherein I Attend a Writers' Group

Over the years, many family members have encouraged me to write. I like to write, but I don’t know if I have enough talent to go anywhere with it. Last week, Prudence encouraged me to think about writing again, in the name of putting together a retirement. The next day the radio blared out that a writer’s group meets once a month at the Library. Was this coincidence? Or was it encouragement from another source? I decided I’d better check out the Library writers’ group.

Now, I’ve always been a little leery of artist groups of any brand. The stereo-typical artists’ group as portrayed by the media always consists of a few brooding members of humanity that spew out dark and profound works in attempts to garner respect from the art world. Their motto seems to be: Let’s find out how disgusting we can be. I am not a “serious” writer. I get nauseated easily, and getting grossed out and depressed listening to a pack of brooding artists seems like a lousy way to spend an evening. However, I decided to put my stereo typical conclusions aside and give the writers’ group a shot.

By the time the third writer began reading his work, I realized being shot would be easier that giving this group a shot. The first writer was a Michael Moore look-alike. Michael Moore is the whiny director who seems to feel habitually ill-used and therefore nit picks at our country. In fairness, the first writer seemed like he had a much more class than Michael Moore. He shared with us his idea for a screen play that he has ostensibly written, along with a letter to Steven Spielberg asking Spielberg to read the script. I didn’t like to say so, but the idea sounded remarkably like the series Stargate Atlantis’ final season.

We moved on to writer Number 2. This man’s countenance reflected that he was a very good, kind man. I think he must have been lonely, or health problems might have fogged his thinking. He wanted to help us all become published. He shared with us his published works: letters to the editor. He had several tips for getting published – in the letters to the editor section of the newspaper.

And then contestant Number Three shared. He was a nice looking blondish, artsy man with cubic zirconium rings on one hand and turquoise rings on the other and a necklace. He was writing a book in the style of Genet and some other off-beat writers. I looked up Genet later to find that Genet was thrown in prison for life at one point being a habitual offender. Genet’s history put Number Three’s offering into context. Even with this work in context, plugging my ears and breathing to drown out his voice was the only way I could get through the ordeal. After hearing that work, I conclude that the F-word is the most versatile word in the English language. It can be a noun. It can be a verb. And it can be combined with any other word in the dictionary to form a compound word.

Meanwhile, the Library staff member assigned to lead the group is acting as cheerleader. And she just LOVES everything!

After a college student read an unexceptional, but difficult to understand, short story he was working on, the last group member unveiled his work. He was a short, slim man with longish dark brown hair and brown eyes. He had played the part of expert, in a kind way, throughout the workshop, giving with dramatic flair suggestions and tips to everyone. Unlike some of the others, I could understand his writing. But it was awful writing just the same. A few parts made me wonder if I had stumbled into the eighth grade boys’ bathroom.

I don’t believe I will be attending that writers’ group again. The moral of the story is: A writers’ group could be a good idea, but not the one at the library!