Last night I was a guest at Borders Writing Group, at Silverlink, Northshields. I had been invited after doing a book signing there a couple of weeks ago, and thought, why not?
Now, you know what I think - let’s change that to thought - about writing groups, or people in general, whether it be for fun or on a course, who sit around talking about writing and not writing. I’m not into it at all. I once started an MA in creative writing and walked straight out the door.
Writing groups will never be for me, but what I discovered last night, was that just because I’m not into it, it doesn’t mean it’s not okay or cool for others to do it. A writing group is like any other club - golf, football, paintball, swingers, sex, squash, gym - it’s people getting together to enjoy their favourite past time. You don’t have to be hardcore 9-till-9 writing to be a writer, just like casually playing football in a village five-a-side team doesn’t make you a wanker because you’re not playing for the black and whites. Grass roots, the football punters call it. This is grass roots writing, and last night I had a fantastic time.
I was introduced as the guest speaker and immediately my heart started hammering my rib cage to be out. ‘Eh, guest speaker? I’ve not prepared anything?’
I handed everyone a copy of Fat Tuesday, and apologised as I did to those that were no longer in the rat race and earning a crust. ‘Don’t think you’re the target audience with this one. My Mam wasn’t too keen, to put it mildly.’
Well, as the night progressed, we basically spent most of it doing questions and answers on all sorts of stuff, and you know me, I told them everything apart from my underpants size. If they’d asked about my underpants, I’d have told them, colour and condition.
It was great, and we had plenty of laughs, talking about writing, how it all started, competitions, routines for writing, favourite novels, just about anything and everything.
Then it was exercise time, and I was happy to join in. We had to write a story in ten minutes, picking three objects from the fifteen we had all put into the pot. I went for wooden leg, turbin and a swiss roll. Don’t think Hemmingway has anything to worry about after I completed the masterpiece.
I’ll tell you what, though, when it came to my turn to read it out, I were proper nervous, I tell thee. Talk about pressure. bbbbb At the end, Heather, the leader of the pack, gave me a box of chockies and asked if I’d come back again. I said I’d love to, and I will, as soon as they ask.
Gary
If you haven't already take a look at Gary's website by clicking here! Gary is running a great competition at the moment with a very tidy cash prize... well worth a look.
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