My Writing Group

Oh, my. My first writing group was about a week ago. Let me start by saying that I haven't been involved in a writing group since...college? Maybe? Anyway, it's been "awhile". A few months ago, I did some work for an author who, in turn, introduced me to some friends who had a local writing group. So Thursday I gathered up a few things and left the house about the time I'm usually winding down for the night, more nervous than a first date.

Let me start by saying that the other three people there were perfectly lovely. They treated me with respect and acted like I actually belonged to be there. I really appreciated that. So. Lovely people. Great to talk with; I enjoyed the conversation and getting to know them. I loved 'talking shop', which is something I haven't done in a really long time. HOWEVER...

I felt like SUCH a loser. Well, maybe just an impostor. All three of them are published. With novels. Or publishing deals. And then? There was me. The one who hasn't seen my name in print in...5? years. And who doesn't write novels. I felt out of place, out of touch and like I'm completely starting over my career. I came home and talked to Isaac about it and he mentioned that OF COURSE I felt like that. He reminded me I never think my writing is good enough, ABOVE enough to hold its own. He reminded me that I self edit so much that I edit myself out of anything good. Including opportunities like this. And he's right. I know he is. So it's hard to argue that point. But, still...

I don't understand why I do this. Well, mostly. My divorce and motherhood put doubts in my mind, but I'm troubled that I can't seem to shake them. That I give in to the thoughts that I'm not a 'real' writer and ride that wave. Even though I am! And, now...well, now, I'm standing at this cross roads. And I told all of you. The starting, that isn't the hard part. The tough comes with the continuing, for me. And now that I'm nervous and intimidated at being so far away from my career goals, staring at the face of people who continue to write through everything I've used as excuses the past few years, I can feel it happening. The literal making excuses, putting up walls and plotting the reasons why this writing group isn't for me. And it's interesting to feel this internal battle going on, when I clearly knew it was going to happen.

I have something to take to the next meeting and I'm determined to go. To face this ridiculous notion in my head that my writing is less than. That I don't belong. Because, really, the others were lovely. And helpful. And treated me as an equal. Which I am and should learn to embrace. I'll keep you posted on how it goes.


(left to my own devices, pet shop boys)