Here we are on day three of the Twisted Writers. I do hope that you enjoyed our first two posts, if you are a returned visitor. If not, and this is your first time for stopping by, then Welcome, glad you could make it, you are in for a treat and should stay a while.
Now while Jesi told you a twisted tale and CJ shared with you a bit about our inner twisted side, I want to explore the other side of just how twisted we really are.
Writing is said to be a solitary activity/career/hobby.
In a lot of ways, this is the truth.
However, I have learned over the last decade that my writing thrives when I have other heads to bounce ideas and plot lines back and forth with. No, not actual heads – wait, yes actual heads, but these said heads are still connected to their respectable bodies.
In my hunt for the right head to talk writing with I stumbled across a treasure chest. Not one filled with gold, no, one of those you used to see at the doctor/dentist office when you were a little kid. (Now they give you stickers that get you in trouble when you forget to take it off of your shirt when mom does the laundry.) A chest that was not quite full but the inside held a jumble of strange trinkets, things you weren’t quite sure what to do with.
This is what it was like for me when I found my writing group –a mix of people that I was not quite sure what to do with. In the back of my mind, I kept thinking, just how are any of these people going to help me with my writing and how could I possibly help them with theirs? No one wrote anything remotely similar to what I was trying to do, nor did I have much of a clue in their genres either.
We had a science fiction/paranormal romance writer, a historical writer/cartoonist, a spy thriller writer, a poet, and a steamy romance writer. I mostly write in the Young Adult and New Adult fiction genre and in this room, I was the only one at the time.
But I stayed. And they stayed.
Others came and went, but the six of us kept coming to each meeting. We kept reading each others writing, whether it was a short story, a poem, or a chapter in a novel in progress, and we have learned what we needed in order to help each other out of the muck that is our own self doubt.
Each one of us brings a different view, personality, and genre to the table.
We are as different as night and day, the same as the beginning of each sunrise and sunset, and twisted together to bring you everything we’ve got.
Till next time,