Last Monday in part two of my journey to publication, I left you with a teaser, saying that I attended a writing class where I met other writers who would become life-long friends.
But . . .
I certainly didn't think so when I started the class. At that time in my life, I was more reserved and not very outspoken. I rarely raised my hand or commented. I didn't want to risk anyone finding out how very little I knew.
And then the time came for us to read what we were working on. Talk about scared out of my ever-loving mind. Of course, I wanted everyone to absolutely love my writing.
Well, praise for my writing came in small doses, and I knew deep in my heart I was probably the weakest writer in the class. That didn't stop me. I still attended every week, learning all I could.
A year flew by pretty fast and before I knew it the class was ending for the summer. However, most everyone wanted to keep meeting.
So we decided to form a writers group. We would come together once a week in each others homes. We were a group of novice writers with none of us published.
But after a couple of years things began to change . . .