The Critique Group

One of the things that excited me about moving to a bigger town was that there would be enough writers to participate in things like writing support groups and clubs. I've found all those things here, along with many talented writers (and many of them published!). However, it took me more than a year to get up the guts to actually attend a live, in-person reading circle. I've been attending the Barnes & Noble group since September or so.

There were about six regular attendees until Christmas time. It seems like the new year does just the opposite for writers as it does for people at a gym. Through the month of January, my gym parking lot was so crowded that some days I could barely find a place to park. With the writing group, however... let's just say I can't remember the last time we had a full table. There were three, including me, tonight. So maybe this is a sign it is coming back into full swing. I read four pages tonight that I've had prepared for at least three weeks (of course, the last two weeks it was me who didn't make it to group).

Generally, the critique group has been very, very good for me. Never mind that I still get incredibly nervous and I suffer from entire-body shakes by the time I am finished. I usually read my four pages so quickly I'm not sure that anyone can really understand me. But they all have their own copies to read along, so I guess it works out okay. The group has been very supportive and has offered some good advice and direction. My story usually brings a laugh or two, which is oddly hard for me to feel comfortable with (even though it IS supposed to be funny). I guess it just has something to do with being the center of attention and recognizing that I am being at least somewhat successful in my efforts.

At one point I had figured out that by completing four pages a week I could easily finish my novel by the time Rand is done with school. I'm pleased to report that I'm well ahead of that goal right now. I could attend critique group for the next 3 or 4 months without having to actually write something new. It seems like that would make it all just that much easier. But it doesn't. It's still hard to step up and say, "Hey, I'm writing a novel." I still get butterflies in my stomach every Monday when I just think about going. Yet, I AM going. I AM reading stuff I've written to near-total strangers. And somehow a novel, for better or worse, is getting written.