St. Tammany Writers Group

Thursday, Nov. 15. St. Tammany's Writers Group. I don't arrive here in good shape. I'm driving at night across the Causeway in a rented SUV supplied by Enterprise because Collision is fixing the fender bender I had in the Berry Town lot--someone backed into my parked car. I'm innocent. I go from my little Toyota Cambry to this monstrous machine. I can't figure out how to put gas in it; where the lights are; how the wipers work, and it doesn't come with instructions and I'm driving from New Orleans to Mandeville, bumper to bumper traffic and when I finally get there what I really need is a stiff drink, but since I have no co-pilot I refrain. The group does two critiques each month, and Andrea submits some awesome poems, and Joe, the new member submits a story that gets minced to pieces and I worry that he might get upset, but he takes it pretty well. I'm just happy I don't have to smile anymore. I'm not much of critiquer, after all except for two, they're all highschool and college teachers and who am I to say? My expertise is real estate and marketing, commissions and square feet, and for some reason, that knowledge doesn't apply here. Doesn't seem to apply to publishing in general, either.
You know when you're old? When you accept the fact that the event you most look forward to, is getting home and crawling in bed!