This afternoon in the writing group I’ve attended weekly for 26 years, a writer read from a book that none of us knew she’d been writing. And it is terrific! It is splendid! And she has a huge amount of it done.
This event is roughly equivalent to discovering that your next-door neighbor of 20+ years has a ten year-old child at home who has never been mentioned. And a rather brilliant kid at that.
She was simply writing along on this never-really-meant-for-publication project. And now it blurps forth in full sharp glory. I may not have mentioned: it’s an exceptionally bold book as well.
Telling oneself that a project is just for fun or private writing is an excellent disinhibitor and freer of creativity.
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