Since February, I’ve been trying to attend a writers’ group hosted at my local library. Without fail, something happens every single Saturday that its scheduled. This week has given me yet another valid reason not to attend, but I managed to drag myself out of bed, through a shower, and a bowl of cereal, and get myself there.

I liked them right away. One woman’s a traditionally published author. Another man is writing his autobiography- from being in the navy during WWII. Another shared his query for a children’s book he wrote. Another read something he’s been working on. He’s got a voice for public speaking, but I also liked his writing style. Hope he gets it complete. They knew their way through the markets. Awesome advice was given, along with very attentive critique. People took notes. I even made some entries in my brand new notebook.

I’d joined a group way long ago in Colorado. Truly wonderful people. It was a really small group, only five of us. They were remarkable writers. But no one had ever published anything, and as great as their work was, I got the sense that no one aspired to publish anything. It wasn’t what I needed. But the group head relocated and the group disbanded, so it didn’t matter.

I can’t afford conferences, or a whole lot of memberships. I honestly don’t know what I can contribute to the group right now. But I need some support. Hopefully I can offer that back.

I also desperately need work on my public speaking. I came somewhat prepared with two short pieces just in case I was called on (which I was). I chose the wrong one. It was a little dark, and way too emotional, and I get way too anxious when I read my own stuff aloud. I could not stop my voice from shaking, and I know I wasn’t loud enough for everyone to hear me. Pretty sure I tanked and made a poor impression 😦

There’s always the next one, I suppose.