Last year, I embarked on a voyage of pain.
Perhaps that’s overly dramatic: I was in a writer’s group. The problem wasn’t the group – sound people. The problem was the content. Most of those dudes were writing memoirs, or young adult fiction. The story I’m writing? Speculative fiction. Dudes die. There might be aliens, or vampires.
To rephrase: it’s not you, it’s me. Yes – I had to break up with my writer’s group.
I’ve got a new crew now, made up of speculative fiction writers. We have coffee. We talk about how much we hate that romance writers, or romantic fiction, exists. We hate Twilight equally.
These guys – they’re more my thing. I might be going steady with this group.