Tonight I attended a writing group at a local bookstore. It was a feeble step in my attempt to become more connected to other writers in Des Moines and perhaps find some motivation to write more consistently on my own. In college I wrote all the time. I had too. I was a History and Writing & Rhetoric major which meant semesters filled with research papers and essays. After graduation, the deadlines disappeared, and my writing lagged. It’s not that I don’t want to write, but there are always so many other things to do. (I don’t know whether or not I should take comfort from the fact that most writers say this.)
I wasn’t quite sure of what to expect from this gathering. I knew we wouldn’t be workshopping any pieces, but I wasn’t sure what type of discussion we’d have. So, I can’t exactly say I was disappointed by my experience – let’s just say it was interesting.
There were ten of us there, all were forty something and older expect for one girl who was my age. The atmosphere was perfect. We were tucked in the corner of the bookstore, so we were surrounded by shelves upon shelves of books! The gentleman in charge of the group began by passing out plastic champaign glasses of Sangria and handouts about writing quarry letters, cover letters and blogs. We didn’t talk much about them. From there the conversation wandered as participants asked questions and shared experiences. One gentleman is in the middle of writing a sequel to a novel he published last fall. Another is expecting a book out next month. One writer offered some suggestions about working with agents. Another talked about an authors’ conference coming up in September. Another talked about her appointment with an agent at a Wisconsin writing conference next week. This will be her chance to sell her book!
Of course, since I was new, they wanted to know what I write. Who are you? and What do you write?
I was dreading this question. Write? What do I write? The who I am is easy enough, but how do I describe what I write, what I want to write and more importantly that I don’t really write which is why I have such a vague notion of what I write in the first place. I know that what I say will push me into a genre box of sorts, which is ok, but in my first meeting, how do I want them to think about who I am. If I told them I wrote memoir or romance or mysteries, they would readily understand that.
I told them I write essays. Nice broad brush stroke. I should have known it wouldn’t be enough. Well, what kind of essays, they want to know. Ummm…essays about some of my life experiences, I say, I’d like to write about the museum where I work and history and my own experiences working in the past although it really isn’t like what it was like in the past. It sounds flimsy, like I have no idea of what I’m doing, which would be accurate. I really don’t.
To be honest, most of my recent writing has just been writing exercises. Some of my writing prompts have resulted in fiction. Some have the feelings of an essay, others are autobiographical and some are just descriptions of things. I’m just trying to put in some training miles, trying to make writing a habit, something I need to do everyday.
Of course, now that I am home and writing about my experience, I’ve figured out what I should have said to the question of, What do you write?
I write creative non-fiction, I'll say next time. Are you familiar with Annie Dillard? She writes brilliant things about life by writing about insects and clouds and sand. I want to do something similar, but by writing about historic moments and objects and connecting those objects to the past and the present. I wrote about a fountain. I want to write about hair and desks and penmanship. I wonder what they will say then.
