Grass roots

Last night, after an eleven-month absence, due to my health, I returned to my regular local writing group. I’d kept in touch via emails and competition entries but it felt so good to be seated amongst the mix around the table, listening and sharing. There were a few new faces who I had the pleasure of meeting, which bolsters the numbers towards a healthy attendance. Plus, a welcome supply of homemade cheese biscuits!
 
I’ve spoken about this writing group several times. I originally joined some twenty-odd years ago when it had a heaving membership and we could hardly fit in our allocated space in the back room of a pub. The gathering was too big to be enjoyable, as we couldn’t sit within speaking or hearing distance of each other. It was very hit and miss as to whether you were chosen to read out your offering, which you’d worked on all month to receive insightful feedback. I regularly attended and returned home with my short story still in its folder, untouched as others had been chosen to read theirs out. 
 
I knew what I needed: encouragement and vital feedback. Although feedback can feel brutal at times, it was the only way I was going to improve with this writing malarkey. I attended for about a year, before my interest waned, annual subs were due and I didn’t renew. 
 
Fast forward twenty-odd years, and having been published for several years, I started to ask questions of myself in relation to my creativity. There was something missing; I could feel a yearning void. I had plenty of author friends on whom I could rely for a chat or support. I had plenty of time to write but still there was a niggling ‘something’. The answer was I missed being amongst the ‘grass roots’ of my creativity. I needed to be part of a local writers’ group and listen to other people’s work, enjoy the camaraderie of supporting others, witnessing their improvement, enjoying the various genres expressed and loved by others - I needed to return to my roots. 
 
This epiphany moment occurred as we neared a new year, so after a quick internet search I discovered the writing group were still going but in a different location. I vowed a return would be my new year’s resolution. It felt strange returning that first night, stranger still when two members remembered me, which was lovely. Though my ten published books came as quite a surprise!
 
And so, I returned to the fold. To be given the agenda of meetings, competitions and events nights - to which I vowed to attend, as many as was feasible, and pay my annual subs. In the eleven months running up to my health issues, I attended every meeting, entered each competition and was duly placed 2nd in two categories. Plus, I failed miserably in the November quiz!
 
Last night, I sat with my cuppa, listening to poetry about ‘crepe suzettes’, chatter about Stephen King novels and voting on themes for future competitions and I knew, I was back! Back to my roots as a writer, as a creative, as an expressive human being who absorbs the energy and atmosphere that surrounds her and which somehow fuels her ability to write!