Social Hermits
Ernest Hemingway once said that writing at its best is a lonely life. A group of six women beg to differ.
Nicole Hayes is a fabulous talker. She’s also fabulous at expressing her opinions. Today she’s ruminating about alcoholics. ‘They just didn’t exist pre-1984,’ insists Nicole. ‘Not unless you were passed out in the gutter with a bottle clutched in your hand.’
We’re in a suburban home near Melbourne, clustered around a table laden with homemade salmon quiche, salad, cheese, fruit and other assorted nibbles. No one at the table disagrees. In fact, everyone heartily nods. This is probably because we all remember adults from our childhoods who by today’s standards would be considered raging alcoholics.
Without identifying the irony of the moment, Annie notices that her wine glass is almost empty. She raises a querying look to Deborah—‘Top up?’—before getting the nod and pouring herself and Deborah another splash.
New member Jo is bringing something completely different to the table. She’s writing a memoir about her life as surfie chick to trainee nun and back.
This private writing critique group of formerly five, today six (welcome new member Jo Burnell), is named Sybylla’s Sisters and has been meeting once a month for over two years. During that time, Nicole has completed her second novel and adapted her first book, The Whole of my World, into a screenplay; Annie has written a short romance novel and is close to finishing something new, Deborah has rediscovered a love of acting and found her narrative voice, Elli has just signed up to complete a Bachelors of Creative Writing and has been busy reworking a formerly completed manuscript, and I’ve abandoned a long-term project and started writing a young adult novel.
Meanwhile, new member Jo is bringing something completely different to the table. She’s writing a memoir about her life as surfie chick to trainee nun and back.
This image of a lively group is at odds with the generally joked about idea of writers. They’re portrayed as hermit-like creatures who exist in some darkened garret tapping at keyboards and creating life and relationships in manuscript form that they’ll never enjoy in their own realities. How could there be time to create a world and live in the real one too? Even Ernest Hemingway was happy to acknowledge this cliché, once saying, ‘Writing, at its best, is a lonely life.’
The housework never stops whispering. The cats always look like they want to play. And these are the very reasons why I often work at libraries.
It’s true that the life of a writer involves being at the helm of a keyboard for several hours a day. But that doesn’t mean to say that the writing life has to be a lonely and hermit-like pursuit. And in fact, it helps if it’s not. If you’re anything like me, then left alone in a garret you won’t be able to trust yourself to write like you want to be a writer. It’s so easy to check social media every five seconds or close your laptop and meet a friend for coffee. The housework never stops whispering. The cats always look like they want to play. And these are the very reasons why I often work at libraries with other writing friends and it is also why I suggested setting up Sybylla’s Sisters with some interested scribes.
Talk at the October meeting skits over a variety of subjects: the currently topical ‘Ban the Burka’ debate, the ‘He For She’ speech delivered by United Nations goodwill ambassador Emma Watson, the lack of timely content offered by Quickflix causing an increase of illegal downloading. We conclude our chatter with an energetic discussion about the pronunciation of the letter H and wonder whether it’s correct to say ‘a historic event’ or ‘an historic event’. We decide ‘a historic’ is the way to go. It’s something to do with the consonant sound of the word.
It’s common for a good deal of non-writing related chatter to occur before workshopping finally begins. But when the food and conversation come to a natural end, all eyes turn to Jo. She had a different reason for joining a writing group. Unlike me, she can trust herself to produce. Rather, she’s here because she’s hungry for workshopping feedback. She tells me that she finds it exhausting but exciting. It gets her writing juices flowing.
in fact she tells me that she constantly questions why anyone would be interested in this story
She’s feeling a little nervous, hoping she will fit in with the group. Her memoir delves deeply into religion and spirituality and she’s hoping the group will be interested in this story — in fact she tells me that she constantly questions why anyone would be interested in this story. Her memoir will be written in chronological order beginning at a time when she was four-years-old. She asks the group to focus in particular on whether she’s nailed the voice of a pre-schooler. Silence descends broken only by the occasional turning of pages and the sound of critique being scribbled on them. Fifteen minutes later, it’s apparent that there is little room for any improvement in the writing. It’s hauntingly beautiful and heartbreakingly good. And she absolutely nailed the pre-schooler narrative voice.
Talk turns to her childhood. The group is interested to learn more as this will enable them to understand what she’s trying to achieve in her writing. Once we understand then we’ll become five extra writers helping to guide her vision.
Jo tells us that her mother was regularly hospitalised throughout life as a result of her bipolar disorder. Or as she says in her own words, ‘Mum constantly dropped her bundle and Dad was constantly fighting to keep it all together. It made us all fighters.’
Jo believes her childhood experiences have made her a person who always puts others first. It will be interesting to see how this thought plays out in her memoir when she discusses putting everyone first as a trainee nun volunteering in Calcutta. We’re all looking forward to workshopping her life, as it were. She’s definitely a fit for this group.
Next up for workshopping is Annie. She’s writing fiction but admits that her work is partly based on some of her own experiences. In the scene we’re reading, her female protagonist is boarding a cruise ship with a man who in many other stories might be the love interest of the piece. Refreshingly, her
the group goes from talk of religion and nuns to hot sex with a hunk on a cruise ship
character doesn’t need a love interest to save her. She’s a woman healthily completing herself and so she’s just going to take the sex and leave it at that thank you very much. And without even registering the moment, the group goes from talk of religion and nuns to hot sex with a hunk on a cruise ship. This kind of accept-it-all attitude is another refreshing aspect to this group.
Annie’s protagonist is great. The group is worried about the cruise ship buddy. He’s a bit of an object at this stage — a writing prop if you will. We can’t see him. We talk about how his backstory has been presented and how he has been physically described throughout the narrative. ‘He just seems a bit too perfect at this point. Does anyone want to read about perfect people with no problems? Could you describe him differently? He’s got blond hair. Could you say he has dirty blond hair and that it looks darker when it’s wet? Could your protagonist notice that his eyebrows are darker than his hair? We need to start to see him.’
The group questions his motivations and desires. They offer further suggestions that will lift him from his 2-D grave and promote him into a living, breathing, 3-D character. Annie jots notes and takes all suggestions on board. She’s never precious about her work. She’ll take the advice that resonates with her and leave the rest. That’s how this group works. We’ve come here for our own reasons, but we’re all the same in that after two years we trust each other’s opinions yet are happy to leave them as suggestions if we disagree.
Attention turns to Nicole. She waves it away with a few words about her excerpt being too long to share at todays meeting. She’s at the planning stage of her third novel and has made a tentative start on the manuscript.
We go over Elli’s work, a short piece about rape culture in a high school told from a male point of view. We read Deborah’s work, a multipoint of view narrative told by teens on a road trip of discovery both figurative and literal. It’s no coincidence that this is her finest writing to date. She is the mother to two teen boys both as individual and strong willed as she. Today we’re reading chapter two. ‘I want to know if you can hear the voice of this character — if his personality comes through. I don’t want all four of the boys to sound the same,’ says Deborah. Commence page turning and critique scribbling. The advice we give? Keep writing, Deborah! This really is your best work.
We look back to Nicole to see if we can cajole that excerpt out of her yet. But she’s not giving it up. Instead she discusses her ideas and listens to our thoughts. She says she’ll mull over what we’ve discussed. And herein lies the beauty of Sybylla’s Sisters. We share a goal and are each willing to work together and assist one another on a journey to success. It may take a little while and some salmon quiche to get to the real business of each meeting, but when the group does get down to it they work beautifully.
Nicole Hayes: http://www.nicolehayesauthor.com
Annie Collins: http://www.ajcollins.com.au
Kathryn Moore: http://www.katscopy.com
Jo Burnell: is an editor with Kids Book Review http://www.kids-bookreview.com
