Work.
Margie brought her
pictures in. She and
Heather sprawled out sexy gleaming on
Daytona sand. repulsive.
New writer's group at San Francisco Coffee in Virginia Highlands. Bill's ad mentioned Natalie Goldberg so I figure it can't be miserable. In the coffeeshop every damn person has a damn notebook. I pick a guy at random, and I'm right.
Our leader is Bill, a gay man. We're joined by Steve, a gay man. Gay man Jimmy shows up late. We write and read and write and read and Sara shows up and it's getting crowded and loud and not working at all, but we're happy. I remember. I don't remember. Why does it always start with these??
Head out to the parking lot to huddle against the wind and read about red. Funny how many things we all wrote that the others would never have thought of. This group may stick with me; worst-case scenario, I'm another ten pages closer to something.