Attack of the Needy Writers

Great Odin's beard, that was harrowing.

Okay, so there I was, waiting for a train. I was all excited about attending this weekly writers' group meeting yesterday. But I had to book out of work and catch the right trains, because it was waaay on the north side. So north, I bumped my head on the suburbs. With impeccable timing, the El trains have one of their weekly major hiccups.

Eventually, well over an hour later, I stumble into a library, only 5 minutes late. There's only one other writer there. She seems nice. Three others drift in.

And that was it. Four writers. Not just four writers, but four writers who were all old enough to be my grandparents. All of them. And here's little ol' me, with my iPod and my CBLDF t-shirt.

But it gets better. The first person to read her stuff is an old southern woman (who's been living in Chicago for 30+ years). She's not a bad poet, and not a good dental hygenist. She's loud, domineering, and grating. She paints writers (herself included) with the broadest stereotypes possible. Apparently, it isn't writing if you can still be socially adept, sober, and emotionally and financially stable.

Granted, there were a couple of the writers had some great ideas. Great ideas. After an hour or so, I learned why there were so few in the group: interpersonal conflict, lack of dedication, life changes... The group might have died, except the library parking was free.

And into this came me. I represented the future of the group. By gum, if they could keep me around, this group might come back from the ashes. Perhaps if the woman whose hearing aid's batteries I changed... if she shared ALL her poems with me, I might stay. Maybe, just maybe, if the toothless and domineering one talked long and loud enough, I'd keep coming back.

I left there, feeling like an outsider being dragged into the unwanted role of a savior. A shot of vodka blunted that feeling. I fear that if I don't go back next week, I'll be condemning the group to its fate.

But I can't go back. That was so not worth skipping dinner for.