What Keeps Me Sane

The name says it all:  we’re an eclectic group of writers who meet weekly who are lucky enough to live in the arts‑nurturing environment of Santa Fe, New Mexico.  Members write the gamut, fiction to poetry to nonfiction, but what ties us together is the commitment to our writing and supporting each other.

Our format is simple:  someone brings a prompt each week, we discuss it, and write for anywhere from forty‑five minutes to an hour or more, depending on the number of people there.  We try to leave enough time for each person to read what they’ve written, with comments by the group following.  Some writers’ groups have rules about critiquing; some even refuse to allow much discussion.  Since we began as a “class,” we not only allow but encourage comments, but there are two precepts.

First, the discussion should begin with a positive.  Second, the criticism should be constructive.

There’s a third we try to live by as well, and I use the word “try” deliberately.  We try not to interfere with the story itself too much.  Sometimes we get excited and ideas come bubbling up ‑ and some of us enjoy that process while others don’t.   Most of us have been in the group long enough that we tend to know who is tolerant of what! And when someone new joins, we try to make a safe place where we can learn about each other.  To be as long‑term as we are, and we’ve weathered some ups and downs, respect for each person is paramount.

What underlies everything is that this is not just a cut‑and‑dry, read‑what‑you‑got and isn’t‑that‑nice sort of group.  We support each other through the thick and thin not only of the writing life, but of life itself.  We’ve had one member die; a few, sorely missed, have moved away.  We’ve been through weddings and divorce, court cases, cancer, birth (children and grandchildren), and not least, the despair of everyday wear and tear on our souls.

I have been in this group since its inception – it began in January of 1999 as a seven week class.   Even when life ovewhelms me, when I wonder what the hell I’m doing/have done/will do, I know I will sit down in the quiet of Catherine’s living room and for the space of two hours, I will get to write in the embrace of this amazing soup of women.