Cycling

I’m not good at regularly posting (obviously). But I think if I stick to Wednesdays, the day after my writing group, I’ll have something legitimate to report. Or maybe, as an extra incentive, I should give up forgetting to update my blog for Lent. I’m already giving up alcohol. Why not make it even more of a challenge?

As of last night, we are through one story each for the various members of my writing group, Bob’s Bitch Lasagna. Each Noodle has had a chance to shine in between the rambling ricotta that otherwise fills our meetings.

While for the most part we’re of a sci-fi/fantasy bent, we’re different enough that we compliment each other well. We have blind spots, but those are covered by others who can spot ways to help make each piece reach its full potential. Any hesitancy of submitting my piece has abated now that I’ve gone through my first critique and provided feedback for the others.

Frankly, sorry not sorry, I think this might be the best writing group I’ve ever been a part of. For only being in this for about 2 months, we’ve quickly formed a bond and already have plenty of inside jokes. It makes me concerned about any future members feeling left out at first, no matter how much we might do our best to welcome them into the fold.

I would say one of the areas in which our group is lacking is entirely my fault: barely any educational sessions. I’ve been lazy. I know I need to come up with some topics ahead of time, with varying lengths so if we end up with a lot of time to kill we can dive deep, or a short one if the critique goes long. But knowing I need to do this and actually doing it are entirely different things. Another thing to give up for Lent: slacking on this.

Finally, I’ve started to get some spam comments. I think one that I approved on my last post probably falls under that category, but it was praise, so why not use the spam for my own ends to make it look like I have readers?

4 thoughts on “Cycling”

    1. There is an adult in the room. Zero idea where we left it. It’s probably buried under our layers of flavor, but there is an adult somewhere in our lasagna.

      1. Or we have converted that one adult into lasagna. I think Bob was the adult for about 45 minutes of our first meeting before we turned him into a fellow noodle.

        1. That’s giving me too much credit. How I could be considered the adult in any situation is beyond me.

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