Twas twelve days before Christmas and not even a mouse would've been caught dead in the Rose and Crown, but my writing buddy and I snuck out of our domestic jails (kidding I love my family, I really do) and headed to the Writers Guild of Alberta Holiday Party (cannot mention Xmas for fear of roving bands of the pc police). We imbibed, nibbled appies and listened to Jeramy Dodd read his lyrical cowboy poetry and Barb Howard poke fun at the grant process and writers alike (only dogs came out looking good, well-groomed that is).
When I moved to Calgary 15 years ago I didn't enjoy the vibrant writing community because I didn't think one existed in cow town. Now I belong to the guild and enjoy all their events, workshops and even sit on one of their committees (granted I don't do much, but I'm learning and networking and getting my money's worth from membership).
I recognized a few familiar faces last night, even though I sat at a table with my 'date'. After the readings and door prize draws, of which I won exactly none, people mixed and mingled. I met a few new people and discovered I was one of a number of Susans there that night.
Despite discovering I am not at all unique, I also discovered that I feel a kinship to these writers, even though I've only published a few stories here and there. Someone asked me what I write and for now it's mostly grocery and to do lists, but I answered fiction. So now I have a place in the writing community, albeit a small one.
Cow town has come a long way and dragged me with it in the pursuit of progress, maturity, self-expression and fulfillment.
After two drinks, a few laughs and introductions, I left with my 'date'. She even drove me home, but not before my curfew. My boys were waiting for me and were just as rambunctious as I was tired.
It's good to escape on a school night ocassionally if just to remind myself that besides a wife, mom and working stiff, I am also part of a pretty fun group of people who just happen to have a way with words.
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