Writers' groups. Ah, the siphoned equanimity of the years....
...when born of wisdom, delivered by the angels themselves. Had a first meeting of a writers' group at the spacious Vierk mansion last night. We sent the dozen servants home early. Biscottis. lollipops and mild stimulants. Guests ( several) seemed pleased. Personality features sure often group together, no? One lady immediately assumed control of what was merely meant to be a get to know planning social. She had us all writing 1500 word pieces, each reading these to the group, for helpful input. After all this, I expected daisy cutter critique, mostly from her. But all were actually gentle and helpful. But she also had us read a but from a favorite author as well. Most read poetry, ---I chose Walden. After which she said---ah, all old white men. At this point, knowing myself, if decades earlier, I would have unloaded on her about such an ageist, racist and sexist comment. And if it occurs at the next meeting (yes, I'll go to at least a few more), I may. But I simply smiled, and let it pass. If the shoe were on the other foot, and all had read from older black female poets, and someone had made a comment in kind, well, many of us know how these things go. Or?
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Ocean Coast, Maine, USA
Retired, but busy. Years left to enjoy. Handy, curious, multilingual (German, French, Spanish, learning Portuguese). Love animals. Live on a salt water ocean bay just south of Canada. Angling off the rocky beach. Mussels. Watching the oceans reclaim
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Don't tell the bossy lady where the next meeting is