Have I mentioned that I belong to a writing group? Because I belong to a writing group.
We’re imagination buddies.
It’s the best.
Once a month—or two or three months—we get together, eat chocolate, and talk about our lives. And plot points. And stubborn characters who never listen or do the things they’re supposed to do.
We met on Tuesday of last week. I hadn’t seen most of them for five months. (Sadly, schedules are rough when you’re an adult. Jobs happen. And responsibility. It’s terrible.) But—somehow—we’ve managed to keep meeting, and it has been healing to my soul, let me tell you. Being a writer in a world of 9-to-5 adults means that you get funny looks when you talk about your imaginary friends in public.
For real. It’s weird.
But, in a room full of writers, we all have our own imaginary friends. And we’re all excited to meet and hang out with everyone else’s imaginary friends for a few hours.
If you’re not a writer and you’re reading this, please don’t think that I’m off my rocker.
I am, but please don’t think it anyway.
Still, there is something extremely cathartic about being in a room with other creatives. Ideas flow, imagination is sparked, and worlds that belonged only to us are cracked open for other people to venture into. What has been an especial blessing to me is to sit in the same room with a group of girls that are going through the same things that I am. We’re all a little short on cash, we’re all struggling to balance life and work, we’re all obsessed with our stories and committed to sticking with them until they see the light of day.
It’s important to know you’re not alone in the world.
We spent the afternoon eating chocolate—which is also therapeutic—talking about work, money, and moments, and reading each other’s books. We got about fifteen minutes with each manuscript, and every time the alarm went off, I had to drag myself back to the real world and remember what we were talking about before I started reading.
It’s a little exhausting to be dragged between worlds like that, I can tell you. Someday, these books are going to be published and sitting on my bookshelf, and I won’t have to snatch them in bits and pieces that way.
My heart is going to appreciate that. Especially with one certain book, whose writer keeps leaving me stranded in the middle of a sentence. *Cough cough* Gloria. *Cough cough*
Still, even when I have the books on my shelf and can read them whenever I want, I’ll keep going back. Because there’s really nothing as special as imagination buddies.
Do you have an imagination buddy in your life? (Or maybe two?) Tell me about them in the comments!