Why I Joined a Writers’ Group

Writers spend a lot of time writing, alone. The family members and pets are banished to the bottom floor, messages from friends sometimes ignored. It’s difficult to express to others why imaginary friends and conversations brim over into existence, how unknown worlds unfold before your eyes. How even when I’m not writing, the scenes are being played out over and over again while I’m making the daily commute, cooking dinner, and reading bed time stories. How what’s in my head is sometimes more real than the life being played out before me.

All of that solitude, that internal processing creates a modern-day hermit sans the cabin in the woods. Joining, or creating, a small group who relate can help relieve some of that struggle and make the transition to reality a little less painful.

I believe that the act of creation is inherently an act of worship because God–who created all things from the universe and volcanoes to dragonflies and atoms–made us in His image. If you’re a Christian, find a group of like-minded writers and seek to worship God through writing. When we fellowship with other writers, we can explore ways to improve our craft and share our hearts through writing.

If you haven’t found that right group, don’t give up. If words and writing are your materials and methods, whether it’s fiction, nonfiction, poetry, songwriting, however you write your worship, there are others out there just like you.

 

Writing Prompt Exercise: Gray’s Room

I opened the door, knowing what to expect but saddened more by my lack of empathy than empathetic towards the dead man. I nodded to the officer who had accompanied me to the room.

“Yes, it’s him… Sir George Thomas.”

“He signed the register for this garret room as Henry Gray.”

“Yes, well it’s Dr. Henry Gray, but that is my name.”

“And why would he sign in under a false name but your name?”

I tore my gaze from the pale figure to the open window. What could I lose, really? It would all come out sooner and why not to this junior constable of the force? He was likely near in age to George—so young and inexperienced, so sure of himself, so sure of his own power.

“Because he hated me nearly as much as I have hated him.”

“So, are you admitting to murdering him?”

Startled, I turned to the man. “Murder? My good man, no! He was a mad man. So much so that his wife left him!”

“Go back to her parents, did she?” He paused scribbling on his little notepad and looked at me expectantly.

“Well, no, Anne, I mean Mrs. Thomas, she…”

“What’s that sir?”

“She’s staying in my guest quarters.”

“Now that wouldn’t be the reason Mr. George Thomas is lying here in this state, would it?”

He place the notepad in his pocket and pulled out the cuffs.

“Dr. Henry Gray, I’ll be placing you under arrest now.”

I held my hands up in defense and backed away. “No… no, it’s not like that”

 

[May 20th Writer’s Guild prompt, Image source]