Every Thursday night for the last few months I have been participating in a writing workshop.
It means that Hubs has to come home on time, which really means slightly early, since he is never home at what I consider to be on time anyway.
It means that I should have two pages, around 1000 words, written, edited, rewritten, and finally printed 15 times, ready to be read aloud and critiqued.
It means that I need to have dinner ready early, myself showered, my kids occupied, my materials packed, and a pen and paper handy.
It means that as soon as Hubs gets in the door, I have to run out saying thereischickeninthefridgeandveggiesonthestoveItoldGirlieshecouldusethecomputerLittleGuyiscrankyandohbythewaythefishisdeadloveyoubye
It means that for two hours I get to hang out with tons of talented women, who also happen to be mothers, and listen to amazingly crafted sentences.
It means an occasional drink after with "that part, with the thing, in your piece, I loved that."
And, really that means everything.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
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3 comments:
What a nice posting, and it really captures what it means to escape for two hours of contact with other humans who are living through what you're living through!
It is always a hassle to leave the house (and I don't even have kids yet!).
Glad you're enjoying your group. I have an online writer's group, but I sometimes wish for a group that meets in person.
what are we going to do? this was such a beautiful picture of how amazing these two hours are once i get there even if i drag myself out of the house.
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