In Search of Writer's Group

I am in the midst of a LOVELY book right now. It's a collection of short stories by three women, called The Curiosities. And it is absolutely delightful. Below I have posted what the cover looks like.

Even more than the lovely vignettes provided by these three authors is their obvious time spent working together on their writing, reading each other's stories, offering advice, giving prompts, mentoring each other, encouraging each other's writing. The stories have little handwritten comments and drawings in the margins, capturing the sense of these works in process.

The book is well worth reading, but it makes me long for the writing groups I once had. The group I started in Independence, Kansas, which is still going strong thanks to the efforts of Cherilyn Fienen and other fantastic people. The playwrights' group north of Seattle, who were such an ideal group of intelligent writers, who were willing to ask hard questions, who managed to weed out the weaknesses in my writing in minutes, when all I could sense was that something was wrong.

Brilliant.

Only I don't have any of that now. The local writer's group is not really a critiquing group. I need some writers on a similar journey to mine. Writers who see the worth in my writing--who can grasp the kernels of truth in it--but who also see what isn't working, who can tell me where I falter, where the prose or dialogue doesn't work, who can help me be better.

Worse still, I need them in person. Online simply won't work for me. I need to see their faces, interact with them in real space, in real time. I haven't met anyone like that here yet. Painters, yes. But not writers.

So I'll keep looking. These people may be here, waiting for the opportunity to find someone just like me… and we will find each other. I know it. And we will help each other create our own collection of "curiosities."

Separation Anxiety

It's been several days since I've blogged, but I was busy getting my kids set up for school. My son, a tiny five-year-old, just stepped on the bus for the second time this week to attend all-day kindergarten. Did I cry the first time? Nope. I did get a little hollow in my stomach, but I didn't cry. Honestly, I probably would have felt a little lonely yesterday, but I was too busy grading (I won't start on that subject, though).

This morning, my son was off again, holding his sister's hand as he climbed up into the bus. I know it helps to see him with her, to know he's riding all the buses with her, to know she's there on the playground for at least one of his three recesses. Mostly, though, I feel proud of him, that he's brave enough to take off and try something all day, to involve himself with new friends, new routines, and new explorations.

And he is brave. Did he cling to me? Nope. His sister didn't either. Neither of them were trouble in this way. Not ever. Not even on the first day of preschool. Now, since the day they were born I took them everywhere, organized play dates and sleepovers, took them to lunch with friends (my friends), and involved them in very social activities. 

I am not alone in doing this sort of socialization, yet I know there is a whole other group of parents who do the opposite. I was reminded of this just this morning, when one of the kindergardeners wouldn't get on the bus. His older sister climbed on and urged him to do the same, but he wouldn't. His mother had to drive him to school this morning, hoping she'd be able to leave him in his classroom eventually (once he stopped clinging to her leg).

Now, he's not my son. My son was born in Independence, Kansas, for a reason--and since he was born he's pretty much insisted on doing everything for himself. Still, my work to socialize him has paid off, for he has always had reinforcement to take chances, to try new things. So far the only thing that didn't work was soccer (again, that's a whole other blog). 

But this little boy who wouldn't get on the bus had hardly been out of his house. His mom had waited to go to the store until her husband was home to watch the kids. He never went to preschool. In fact, the three hours he spent at school yesterday may count as the longest he'd ever been away from his mother. No wonder it was tough for him.

I'm not saying the way I'm raising my kids is the right way. But it's my way, and it's a direct response to the lack of socialization I received as a child and the lack I see in other children. Children are taught their ABC's, but if they aren't taught to interact, they lose out on a lot. 

I have no desire to teach my kids to fear being away from me. I want them, if anything, to have a little more bravery than they need. I want them ready to face the world, no matter what, so when it's time to go off to college, to get that full-time job, to take some risks to get what they truly want, they are ready.

Thoughts? I've shared mine.