The workshop at Looking Glass Bookstore last night was so, so great.
Sixteen participants wrote with me in the main room of the bookstore. Tall bookshelves surrounded us, and we sat in a large circle.
I was so excited at first I probably talked too fast, but the group was forgiving.
Suddenly I was nervous, too. What if I lost track of time? What if Kathy's group had way more fun? What if people felt too shy to read or give feedback?
Somehow—call it amazing luck, wonderful writers, or Write Around Portland's unceasing ability to inspire people—everyone seemed eager to write, read, and give feedback. People were comfortable passing, too, and everyone seemed to effortlessly follow the guidelines we talked about.
Soon the room was thick with moving poetry and prose.
One woman, glad to be there but also a bit overcome with timidity, ventured to share a haiku she wrote. It was truly breathtaking, and everyone made sure she knew it.
Another participant expertly took on the voice of a teenage girl, sneaking characters' names, slang, and vital details in at all the right times. How she did that in ten minutes is beyond me.
We were all transported to calming beach-side retreats and crisp autumn days. We peered into a mother's nighttime routine and watched a writer find solace in her private room. We laughed at clever turns of phrases, appreciated raw honesty, and related to the familiar.
My only regret is that we only had two hours together. We could've written all night.
M
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