Yes, it’s quite a solitary thing. Writing. No-one to bounce ideas off except yourself. It’s hard work trying to discuss your WIP with someone who has absolutely no interest in what you’re talking about. They pretend they’re listening but the glazed faraway look gives the game away.

This is the main reason why I want to join a writer’s group. To talk about words with people who are interested and to get feedback on my writing. I know of a group that meets just a five-minute walk from where I live but not at a time or day that suits me. Well, I’ve finally found a group that meets on an evening that I’m free. At long last!

To say that I am excited is an understatement! There’s a very slight problem though. It’s a 45-minute drive from my house. Not a problem when the weather is good but I don’t like long journeys in treachours weather! I take Teresa Mannion’s weather warnings very seriously indeed!

The first meeting was on the 11th of January. I missed it because Teresa issued a red weather warning. Very hard frost and snow. I emailed Alex who runs the group to apologise. The next meeting was on the 25th of January. Shocking rain and wind – Don’t make unnecessary journeys – Teresa’s voice haunted me. I emailed Alex to apologise again. I lit the fire and sat listening to the wind howling down the chimney. It was lovely!

The next meeting was last Thursday the 8th of February. After a few nights of hard frost and snow showers, I was afraid that the group will think I don’t exist. I checked the forecast and with just a yellow warning I decided to risk it! (I’m shocking adventurous y’know)

Stephano offered directions.

“No thank you Stephano. I’ve got Sat Nav on my phone and a full battery.”

“Make sure you follow the signs that say Knock and not Knock Airport”.

“Yes. I have Sat Nav!”

He lit a candle for me and blessed himself. Off I went with a big happy head on me to meet my soon-to-be new writer friends. Google Maps location set on my phone, notebook and pen in my bag. Yes, all set!

Knock is a small village with a population of 972. It would be impossible to get lost there. And it’s a very holy place so nothing bad would happen there. Oh, I’ve been to Knock a few times before but I’ve never driven there on my own…. in the dark. I don’t have a great sense of direction either so it would be fair to say that I wasn’t 100% confident.

I was doing fine until I got to Swinford. My Sat Nav told me to go to Kilkelly, a place I’ve never been to but I obeyed because I couldn’t see any signs for Knock. When I passed through Kilkelly, all I could see were signs for Knock Airport. Oh, sweet mother! I changed route and ended up back at the same sign. So I went the opposite way. I got there eventually – after a big rig-ma-role. Give me an old-fashioned map any day! I was about two miles from Knock before I saw a sign for Knock! (Only in Ireland)

Now all I had to do was find the community centre where the writers were meeting. I pulled in to check my directions. I drove out one road and drove back again because that was taking me to Galway. Another road and oops… wrong again. Double check directions. Oh, there’s a bridge somewhere. I took the first right after the bridge and drove for about a mile (Like it said in my directions). It wasn’t a road as such, it was a very narrow muddy lane – the rain was pelting down at this stage. After about a mile I came to a small bungalow. It looked a little bit dilapidated and derelict. As I slowed down I noticed a dim light in the end room. But there were no cars parked outside so I thought, ‘No this couldn’t be it’. I drove on. And on. And on!

I started to think maybe there was no writers group. Maybe Alex, the woman I had been emailing was some sort of internet weirdo who was trying to trick me into meeting her. She probably wasn’t even a woman but a strange man who kidnapped and tortured vulnerable young women (I’m young and a bit vulnerable). Oh my God, how could I have been so blind? He had been grooming me all this time with his politeness about how great this writing group is and how it will change my writing life forever!

The lane was so narrow it was impossible to turn the car around. I drove on until eventually, I came to a gateway. I locked my doors, turned the car and sped like Billyo back towards the main road. The dirt splashed my windscreen as I pounded through the rain-filled potholes. My alloys were prone to punctures and I prayed that they wouldn’t let me down tonight. I flicked my wipers to high speed as the rain turned to hail. The ditches stabbed at my poor wee fiesta with their wiry briars like something from The Evil Dead.

My heart was thumping and tears pricked the back of my eyes. I imagined that internet man was on my heels in a pick-up truck. Have you ever seen that Australian film Wolf Creek? That creepy fella visits me in my dreams sometimes!
I had been driving around Knock for 15 minutes at this stage. It’s such a tiny village for crying out loud. I can bet my life that no-one since the beginning of time has ever got lost in Knock. I’d had enough! I was going home. ‘Feck this for craic!’

Once I was back on the main road I relaxed a bit. Then lo and behold, I saw the sign for Cranmore House. How did I pass it five times earlier?

I was greeted at the door by a lovely man called Tomás and he showed me to the meeting room. He introduced me to the others, five of them, and when I told them of my ordeal, Tomás got me a lovely cup of tea. Alex was indeed a lovely polite lady, not a weird man trying to abduct me or anything like that. There was Lucas who is French, Kathleen, Frank and Dudley.

They were all very welcoming and I was so happy I didn’t go home. So happy I found them! Alex explained what happens at their meetings. Everyone reads their article, poem, part of their WIP etc. and the group discuss and give their feedback. I missed Tomás reading his bit so it was Frank’s turn. He read his piece.

It was at this point that I thought, “I don’t fit in here.”

Frank’s writing was very perfect and poetic. It was a far cry from the stuff I usually write. I didn’t fully understand what his little piece of writing meant. Then they all started talking about dead writers from the 1800’s. I don’t know very many dead writers. I’m only a learner here. I’m not a poet or a literary scholar. I don’t study dead writers. I study live ones – on Twitter and the blogosphere.

Alex asked if I had any comments about the piece. I looked at Frank and said meekly, “That was lovely.” However, once he explained in more detail what it meant I understood a bit better.

It was Dudley’s turn next. He read a poem that he wrote last Christmas. Dudley is my new best writing friend! I was happy again. A cute, simple little poem written from his heart. It didn’t rhyme or flow perfectly but it was more on my level.

Alex read a short poem that she recently entered into a competition. It was written from a prompt and was both humorous and sad. Judging by the remarks from the other group members, it’s different from what she usually brings to the table but I think she writes a lot of poetry. I could do coffee mornings with her, no problem!

Lucas read an article he wrote about Bastille Day. This was also very interesting and similar to what Glo might write about. I enjoyed joining in with the discussions and giving my feedback.

Kathleen was like me, nothing to share on this particular evening. The time passed quickly and the group gathered up their notes and pens. They were a jolly bunch and I really liked them. They advised me on better directions – an easier route home! They said they’d like to see me back again.

Will I go back? Absolutely I’ll go back. To sit chatting with like-minded people about writing was so brilliant. I understand that writing may be the only thing I have in common with any of them but that’s all I’m looking for in a writer’s group. At last, I’ve found my writers!