So on Tuesday I went to a writers’ meetup.
It wasn’t as nearly as scary as I thought it would be. For one thing, I went with a friend. For another, most of the others there were also first timers, lol. For reasons unknown, none of the regulars showed up! Eventually though, a lovely lady came in, who had been a semi regular up until a few months before, so she helped get us going.
It was also apparently unusual in that we were all women; the lady said that normally there were far more men there. I think it was a good way to start, though; women often have trouble speaking up around men, especially in new situations, and this gave us all a chance to relax a little.
I even took notes at the meeting for this post, but managed to delete them instead of saving them (stupid phone), so there’s probably more I wanted to say about this, but this will have to do. I’m more peeved that I deleted the titles of various books mentioned at the meeting (both for reading and for talking about).
I went in to the meetup feeling okay, because I figured I could always claim I had to leave early if I couldn’t handle it, but it wasn’t necessary. We talked about books, writing, things that regularly happen at these meetups, and we all read a bit of our stuff. It was interesting, a bit boring off and on (we all do love to go on and on about our writing, don’t we?) but overall I’m definitely hoping to go again.
Probably. Depends on my anxiety levels; one of the people going next time is someone I have had… friction with in the past*, so I always have to psyche myself up to go to meetings they’re at. These days we’re always very polite and acquaintance-level friendly with each other, but it’s like there’s a mountain of doom behind us, which we’re both doing our best to ignore.
*We share a lot of interests and activities, but within those spheres, we are diametrically opposed, lol.