Last night, while flicking through files on my thumb drive, I came across my old writing group one from several years ago, and opened it for a looksee.
…Some interesting bits and pieces…a lot I had forgotten about. Prompts that had been given me, fifteen minute in-group exercises…pictures and music clips I’d used to assign as inspiration to others. Every conceivable genre, and length, and discipline…from short stories to long-form, scenes, dialogues, and poetry to what-all. Mystery, love stories, gothic ghost stories, horror, comedy, period…you name it. It was a fun time capsule to break in on, suddenly without planning to. Especially when I hit one specific blip: a noir detective story that had me cracking myself up with how thickly I laid on the Dashiell Hammit of it all.
…All in good fun, of course.
…And it got me thinking.
In the time I was part of that group, I had produced reams and notebooks full of random nothings, exercises, thoughts, ideas…rough forms of characters and plots and ideas. I had written two full length plays, (one with the group itself, and one on my own)…and started a novel…a historical monster of research which sits to this day, in that same folder, untouched since those last meeting days…at 100 pages, yet to be finished.
…What I’m saying is: I recognized the importance of the weekly exercises and assignments…but the value of the fuller works is what the group’s point was meant to lead me towards. And it had done it’s job. As long as I had stuck with it.
…And maybe, this full year of blogs, was a certain form of “exercise” meant to prep me for something bigger.
What if?
…So, with this idea in my head, (and the knowledge that “schedules” as they are in today’s world, simply cannot allow a guarantee of an every week meeting time), I shot an email to a bud, and we two instantly built a digital, brand-spankin’-new writing group.
…Yet to be named.
Writing prompts are given out on Fridays. To be fulfilled in any genre, at any pace, to any purpose, in any discipline we like, so long as it is turned in on the following Friday. At which time, we (wherever we are) read said pieces, and pop onto IM, or fire our emails for a discussion, directly following.
…We’ve started half through this week already, so we have something to share on Friday.
…He’s been updating ever since, here and there on the progress. And how good it feels to be at the keyboard with creative intentions again. And tonight, I finished my piece. At twelve typewritten pages.
…My first piece: a scene. My prompt: a quote. His prompt a painting I’d found. His discipline: TBA.
All I know, is that good, bad or otherwise in final piece result…it sure felt good to get creative again. With words and ideas, in a specific character environment.
…It’s good to be back “home” again.
I’ve missed it.
~D
