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.