I went to the first meeting of a new writing group today. Needless to say, I felt like Charles Bukowski in a room full of nuns. My first hint of what was to come was the removal of shoes at the door because of the fancy rugs. Next the subtle: "Let me get you a coaster", followed by jamming several people around a little table with hardly enough room to spread out papers, notes, a drink, etc....while there was a large table in the adjoining area, but it had a jigsaw puzzle on it and no one could sit there. Gawdz. When time was up, I shot out of there like I had bowel problems. I seemed to be the only one that numbered my sample pages, too, and I'm the "careless" looking one.
Next time my gut tells me that it is going to be a similar experience, I am going to say that I think I left something on the stove and I'm going to shoot out of there like a rocket.
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