Discipline

When I first started writing, I was lucky to hook up with a group of writers in Memphis.  Linda Kichline had moved to Memphis and wanted to get some writers together for meeting and sharing and critiquing. I honestly can’t remember how we connected the first time, but the important thing was that some local women (I lived two hours away in Arkansas) met in a neighborhood library and formed a group of writers that was to become the River City Romance Writers. There were under ten of us. It was a beginning.

From this core group of writers, this brand new chapter of Romance Writers of America, emerged a group of us who started meeting for critiquing. None of us were published, and there were really too many. We met every Saturday come rain or shine, usually in someone’s home. Yes, I drove the four-hour round trip every Saturday. It was that important to me. In a few months, the group had dropped to four or five. Then down to three of us. Out of this group came Debra Dixon and Lisa Higdon, who became published romance writers. Debi was the first to publish, and even after publication, she continued to meet with us. Lisa published after the group suspended meeting, but publish she did.

The success of these dedicated and determined writers always fills me with a sense of awe.

I came close, but never quite reached that goal.

Nevertheless, discipline kept me writing consistently for about five years. Without that weekly deadline I probably would have gone weeks without producing any fresh pages. But even if I had a few bad days, I managed to meet the goals. Each week, slowly as a slug creeping across a patio, I produced.

When the critique group broke up, I lost that impetus. I lost part of my support system. Oh, I still had Debi and Lisa and others in RCRW who encouraged and read my pages and brainstormed with me. But I did not have to hand out at least ten NEW pages every Saturday. I soon stopped producing. And with the devastating rejection (that thing all writers experience and must survive), I lost the heart to write. Oh, I played around with some story ideas and wrote a little. But nothing like before.

Now I live in a rural county in southern Arkansas, about three or maybe more hours from Memphis. The old critique group is not there anymore, anyway.

This is not a piss and moan post. I know that only I can write my stories. But I miss that group. I miss the one-on-one, face-to-face interaction and discussions. I miss schmoozing with other writers. I miss RWA (yes, I let my membership lapse). I miss writing.

So why am I writing this? I think simply to express in my wordy, convoluted way that critique groups are important, interaction with other writers is important, sharing information about the publishing business is important… Ergo, isolation might work for some. But it doesn’t work for me.

Anyone else out there share my thoughts?