Last month, I figured in giving this writing caper a go, I should attend a writers' group meeting.
This was my first mistake.
Call me bigoted, but I suspected "writers' group" was code for "nannas, bush poetry and a nice cup of tea". Cue: loss of will to live.
I was right about the high percentage of over-50s, Earl Grey and, well, everything. Poetry included.
However... There were added extras. Like the acrobat/semi-pro wrestler (the costumes-and-fake-punches kind, not the poncy Greco-Roman rubbish) who writes fantasy novels. The astoundingly high proportion of poetry-penning policemen (I might have offended one by suggesting this was incongruous with copperhood and asking him if he'd ever "outed" himself at work as a creative type). The guy who read his hard-core porn short story seated beside the ex-nun, while the storm outside boomed an accompaniment.
I swear all this to be true. The most entertaining evening I've ever had. This writers' group kicks ass!!
Then they invited me to the next meeting. A poetry slam (non-stop poetry readings, for the uninitiated).
Kill me now.
I think I'll return, though, if only for the bedtime porn stories. With any luck they're a regular feature.