Ahh, those writing groups.  When I started, I bought into the concept of the lonely life.  You know, the writer sitting at a desk in his hovel (before publication) or hideaway (after publication), concentrating on stringing words together.  But ‘they’ said, join a writing group.  For the first several months, I was resistant.  Who could possibly critique my writing but myself.  Or maybe my wife, who is an accomplished writer.

Short story:  I did, and I’m glad.  I’m playing out the second novel to the three writing groups in which I now participate.  I’d be disingenuous to say that it’s humbling.  Rather, it’s exciting, and it’s great to have other eyes coming from other perspectives look at one’s writing.  A writer of romance novels turns out to be a master at sentence structure.  A writer of mid-grade stories helps me understand that my hero is too much a wimp.  My wife makes my plots much, much better.  So far, I’m halfway through Skins and Bone, and I have these references (picture) to consider in the rewrite.  Hallelujah!