Writing is a solitary art. Hours, days, weeks, months, years are spent assembling and fine tuning the right combination of words. Often these sessions are not witnessed, go unrecognized. Usually we, the writers, get so caught up in the world of our stories, in our words, that we are unable to view our work objectively, at times unable to separate its energy from our own. I've always favored the write obsessively, edit feverishly, then remove from sight to give the words a chance to marinate approach. The problem with this is the fact that this cycle can be repeated to ad-nauseum, as a piece will never be "perfect." My fellow writers and first readers are a sanity saver. I feel fortunate to be surrounded by a strong writing community.
A group of friends and I founded a writer's group that has served simultaneously as my social backbone for the last four years. Once a week we meet, drink wine, and share and repair each others manuscripts. I am also a member of the Women of Color (WOC) Wrtier's group, which is incorporated with the Imani House Inc., in Brooklyn. We are currently working to publish an anthology. I've been involved with both the editorial and publishing committees and the experience has been invaluable.
Today, I had the opportunity to participate in a reading at the legendary Bowery Poetry Club with the women of WOC. I love moments like these, rare moments when I can share the fruits of my labor before a live audience, where I am afforded the opportunity to take in the energy and reactions of those for whom I write.
Below is a video of the reading. I chose to share a piece of flash fiction titled "Memory of Footsteps," which is set to be the final piece to appear in the collection of short stories I'm in the final phases of editing.
I'd love to hear what you think.