I have just returned from my first writer’s group meeting. For two hours I sat alongside fellow scribes and wordsmiths, at various and sorted levels of their craft.
While I differed from them in some aspects-age being just one of them–I still felt a connection of us all being kindred spirits on the same journey. While we were all drawing the same circle, I have to admit at some places I felt I was still a few addresses away from them.
But what led to my sense of affirmation was, regardless of where we start from, we are still all drawing the same circle. We are all unable to stop this writing fever that controls us, making us write as we do, and then the same fever makes us want to get that writing out for others to see. For some, that fever becomes a blazing rage while for others it runs a little more mild.
Listening to them speak, I realized they too have, collectively, read the books I have read, sat at the tables like I signing copies, worked at their craft in the high and harbored hopes someone, somewhere will cherish it like we do in our hearts.
It was good to know what I have done in the last year since “Whispers” launched, was common to many within the group. We continue to put pen to paper, fingers to keyboard, promote because we cannot stop. It is a common affliction, and a right one.
And, to cap that climax, afterward, I toured the shelves of the library where we had met. I was hoping to find my book. I did. On the end, spine out, name emblazoned with the little white library filing sticker on the bottom. Ahh, this was a sweet moment. I could not resist snapping its picture and then picking it up just once. Seeing my book in bookstores and now in the library. Now I feel like an author