Ahh, those writing groups. When I started, I bought into the concept of the lonely life. You know, the writer sitting at a desk in his hovel (before publication) or hideaway (after publication), concentrating on stringing words together. But ‘they’ said, join a writing group. For the first several months, I was resistant. Who could possibly critique my writing but myself. Or maybe my wife, who is an accomplished writer.
Short story: I did, and I’m glad. I’m playing out the second novel to the three writing groups in which I now participate. I’d be disingenuous to say that it’s humbling. Rather, it’s exciting, and it’s great to have other eyes coming from other perspectives look at one’s writing. A writer of romance novels turns out to be a master at sentence structure. A writer of mid-grade stories helps me understand that my hero is too much a wimp. My wife makes my plots much, much better. So far, I’m halfway through Skins and Bone, and I have these references (picture) to consider in the rewrite. Hallelujah!