Writer's Group

Last night I attended a writer's group at the Barnes and Noble near my house. They meet the second Wednesday of every month, and this was only their second meeting. It was extremely interesting. I feel like I could write a book just about the characters that showed up for this meeting.

There was a very pompous man named Hilbert who is a published, working author who claimed he was only coming to these meetings to network, though it seemed very much like he wanted to lead the meeting. He had a hole in his head. No, really. An actual HOLE in the side of the back of his head. Creepy.

Then there was Troy, who told us that he is writing a murder mystery and started it on a dare. He said his friend gave him a book to read, and he told his friend the book was pretty crappy, at which point the friend said, "Well, you couldn't do any better," and so he decided to try. He had light almond colored skin, a light brown mustache, hazel eyes, a shaved bald head, and a large diamond earring. He also writes his story -- all thirty some odd chapters so far -- in long hand, and when he read the first chapter to us, he actually just recited it from memory, even though he had the paper right in front of him.

Nick was an Asian man who lost his wife to cancer four years ago and started writing poetry about his grief. He'd never written anything before. He produced his own chapbook of his poems and had two of them published in Grieving Magazine. Now his grief is mostly spent, and he was afraid he wouldn't have anything to write about any more, but he has recently discovered joy in writing poetry about everyday things.

Laura was a white-haired grandmother who has published several novels and poems, and was proudest of the poems that were published in the same anthology as some poems her 11 year old grandson had written.

Jennifer came with her sister Jessica for moral support. Jennifer said she wants to write young adult novels, and then didn't say anything else for the entire remainder of the evening. Her sister claims that she doesn't write and only reads when it's required or if it's an article in a fashion magazine.

But my FAVORITE of all the people there was Luke. Luke is ten years old with brown hair, blue eyes, and the sweetest smile you've ever seen. He and his father, Phil, go to the bookstore every Wednesday night for their special father son time. Luke has three brothers, all of whom are into sports like his father, but he prefers to read and write. Apparently, he saw the sign for the writing group and told his dad he wanted to go, so they came. He was clutching his leather bound writing journal in his hands and told us that he's writing a story about a boy who "goes to Italy and has Amazing Adventures." Coolest. Kid. Ever. =D

According to Hilbert, there were half a dozen or more other people who showed up to the first meeting who didn't appear for this one, including a store employee who's supposed to moderate, but who hurt her back and couldn't attend this meeting (which gives me hope that Hilbert won't be dominating the meetings every time). I didn't read anything, because I didn't really go prepared, but next time I think I'll take something to share.

If nothing else, it was fascinating to meet so many new people with so little -- and yet so much -- in common.