Every year our writers group celebrates Halloween in a big way. This year was the best! We all wrote and read Halloween stories, and we all came in costume. Farmer Jones took photos and wanted them posted, but, of course, he was the only one who was not in the photos. Besides Farmer Jones, we had a witch, a Harley babe, a guy from the UAW, Sonny from Miami Vice, the Black Widow, and Morticia. Missing (in Ireland, poor thing!) was Rita, who will have to make it up to us next year.
The third booksigning scheduled to celebrate the release of A Season of Darkness is on December 17, 11:00-1:00, at Sherlock’s Bookstore in Downtown Nashville. If you work in the downtown area, this might be a nice diversion at lunch time. Drop by and say hello to Doug and me.
Someone – one of those wonderful “former” members of the Nashville Writers Alliance who came back to attend our panel at the Southern Festival of Books – expressed the feeling about leaving everyone after the weekend. He said he was homesick. I think it was Mike Coleman, but we all felt it, not just those of you who came to Nashville for our gathering and then went home. The weekend was a time for reminiscing and sharing and connecting in a way that is hard to explain to anyone who has not been part of our writers group. The e-mails that have been flying back and forth keep saying the same thing: This was a group that has been hard for any of us to replicate in any other part of our lives.
So even though I am still in Nashville and am still a part of the writers group, and I love all the members who still meet every Tuesday night, I am homesick for the “old” members, too. (I’ll get in big trouble for that particular adjective.) The good news is that our present members have a special bond, too. I would not know what to do with myself on Tuesday nights if I couldn’t go to writers group.