As I scanned through the mass bulletin, I was thrilled to bits when I saw an advert for creative writing classes. Starting in two weeks, not far from where I live. I rang the number the very next morning to book my place. I wasn’t sure what to expect but I knew it was for complete beginners. 

I can’t say I’m a complete beginner but that didn’t matter. There’s always something new to learn, and my aim was to chat with like-minded people—face to face. It would be nice to have a whole conversation all about writing with someone who doesn’t stare into the distance as I talk. (Sorry if I’m boring you.) Sometimes people behave as if writing is an illegal practice. You do what? Why? Oh. 

There’s a writer’s group in my area but they meet on a night that doesn’t suit me. So, my plan was to gather a few new writers who might be interested in a morning group. I’d be in my element!  The craic we could have, drinking cappuccino or Earl Grey tea while having great chats about Word Hippo and the muse. 

The first day of class arrived and I left the house really early because I wanted to be on-time. Just so the tutor will see how committed I am. I was first to arrive so I sat in the lobby to wait for the others. I took out my phone and opened up my Louise Hay Affirmations app.

I took a few deep breaths and told myself how great I am. I read yesterday’s affirmation too and a few more just for good measure and then I got up from my seat to have a wee look around. The place was very quiet. Where were all the aspiring writers? I sat down again.

Just then, a young woman (about my age) emerged from the staff room door. I stood to greet her but she seemed to be in a world of her own as she barely noticed me.

“Excuse me please”. I said in my confident voice. “Could you tell me where I should be for the creative writing class?”

“Sorry? What classes are they now?” She seemed annoyed at me for stealing her away from whatever mission she was on.

You know that wee laugh that escapes you when you feel like an eejit? The raspy snigger that upsets the rhythm of your breathing. And the wee lump that forms in your throat? Yeah…

I fumbled through my bag of contrunkery to find the mass bulletin to show her. Found it! Yes, there it was right underneath the ‘Pilgrimage to Knock’ notice. I held it up in front of her.

“You’re in the wrong place. You’ve to go back out the way you came in. Turn right and then right again. A few yards on turn another right. You’ll see a sign and a white door. Bye now.”

She was either having a bad day or it was in her nature to be snappy. I don’t cope well with rude people!

Aw Jesus! Now I’d be last to arrive instead of first. Damn! I took my lavender inhaler from my bag and took a good puff to slow down my breathing (I have a touch of anxiety you see) and hurried along in the hope that someone else would be later than me. I prayed the class hadn’t started.

I huffed and puffed my way to where I should be. As soon as I entered the door I could tell it was a place for mature people. A club? Surely not a nursing home? No…it’s a club of some sort.

The atmosphere was welcoming. I was greeted with smiles and handshakes. There were two ladies sitting chatting at a wee table by the window having tea and scones. The strawberry jam piled high on top the same colour as the chequered tablecloth. And they had a proper china teapot too. Not one of those stainless steel pots with a gammy spout that leaks tea all over the place!

‘Hello everyone. I’m here for the writing class. Sorry I’m late’. I put on my apologetic smile and rolled my eyes with a wee shake of my head. A gentle-looking man in his 60’s named Fabian turned to me and said, ‘Well there’s just the two of us so far’.

Okay….well at least they hadn’t started without me. Did we have a tutor? Ah yes. Bernadette appeared from the toilets and beamed at me. Obviously happy to have another pupil.

She guided us through a long bendy stone-walled corridor. She was fairly young, mid-thirties. Her copper pony tail swung like a pendulum as she sped on ahead of us. She glanced around a couple of times to make sure we were still with her. Hope she didn’t think I was of Fabian’s vintage! 

Our class room was quite small with pink walls. Nice and cosy! It smelt a little fusty but I didn’t mind that. Just as we were settling into our seats we heard the sound of dragging footsteps outside the door. It sounded like flip flops so I guessed it was a woman. She pounded in through the door huffing and puffing worse than I was when I arrived. I thought for a second about offering her a sniff of my lavender but I was afraid that she might stick it too far up her nose and that would be the end of it! No….I decided she’d manage without it. 

Bernadette welcomed us and asked us each in turn why we were here and what did we know about creative writing. Fabian said he was hoping to improve his spelling and thought this would help. Eileen in the flip flops said she read ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’ and now she thinks she wants to write a book. She seemed serious!

Bernadette’s eyes bore into mine. ‘And yourself…why are you here?’

“Aw sure ya know”, I muttered. “I think I want to write a book too”. I didn’t know what else to say! I was bucking mad at myself because I had a great spiel planned. I had rehearsed it several times in my mind that morning.

However, as it turned out the time flew by and we talked loads about writing memoirs and the importance of reading if you want to be a writer. We all got along mighty fine and Bernadette gave us some homework.

“Write every day”, she told us. “Write in your journals, write everything you get up to during your day.”

Well, what I get up to during the day wouldn’t be at all interesting. I glanced over at Fifty Shades in the flip flops. Not sure she’d be right for my ‘new’ writing group. 

I remained positive! Fabian might turn out to be a good listener. Bernadette was fab. She could be in my group too.

Week Two

Today wasn’t good because it was a bank holiday and nobody bothered to inform me that the writing class would not be on today. I arrived with the big happy head on me with all my homework done and I even purchased and started reading the book that Bernadette recommended! The whole place was closed up when I arrived.

Week Three

Arrived on time. I couldn’t wait to tell them that I turned up last week because nobody told me not to! No sign of Fabian or Fifty Shades. The only person there was a woman called Bridget and when I told her why I was there, she hadn’t a clue what I was on about. She made a phone call to a guy called Bertie. She himmed and haaad for a moment and then hung up.

“It’s all postponed until the autumn because there wasn’t enough people interested”.

Aw… I was so disappointed. I went to Costa for a cappuccino and a gingerbread man. I told him all about my book, and then I nibbled on him bit by bit! 

I shall persevere! Yes. I shall! I’ll find my people. Yes. I will!