My writing group met tonight at our dive bar. It's interesting to go there for a couple reasons; first off, I'm not using hyperbole when I tell you it's a dive bar; it's kind of a dive. It's moodily lit and there are regulars who languish at the bar and they've had the same wait staff for years and years. I've been going semi-regularly since about 2007, when I started going with a group of classmates from college. And that's why I've been going with recently. The difference is that we used to have a writing workshop and then go to our dive bar to relax, and now we go to our dive bar to have our workshop.
It's great to be doing this; once a month we meet up and workshop a short story (or last month, we workshopped the first twenty pages and a summary of the rest of my novel) and catch up. It keeps us all motivated to continue writing and reading and thinking critically.
Only, tonight, I got home from work late and Kathy had a wonderful dinner on the table. I had enough time to say hello, grab some stuff, and say goodbye before workshop. Life's sometimes like that, I guess.
This post is so unfocused because my brain hurts.
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