Writing Workshops and the allure of the Miniature Schnauzer
I sometimes give writing workshops and I’ve met many lovely people at these gatherings. It is a joy to hear them read out their stories. There is a great deal of writing talent around. I get plenty of evidence of this at the workshops. Some of the poignant stories have moved me to tears and others have caused splutters of laughter. Beautiful poems are sometimes shared. And evocative descriptions of bygone days sometimes have a deliciously skittish touch. It is like a glorious patchwork and we clap after each story has been read out. That sense of playfulness is so important.
I’ve recently given some writing workshops at Blanchardstown Library and they have been great fun. The writers who have attended them are a wonderful bunch. Their writing is very diverse…and very entertaining. One of them, Sharon MacDonald, has written a book called ‘Professional Betrayal’. It’s available on www.PublishAmerica.com and www.Amazon.co.uk. I encourage you to Google it to find out more about it. It sounds like a thrilling tale! I’m looking forward to getting my own copy.
Writing Workshops can be helpful, but joining a supportive Writers’ Group can also really encourage you to develop as a writer. I joined one years ago and the encouragement I received was crucial and I am very grateful for it.
By the way, there’s a robin who visits my little garden and now chirps when he wants to be fed.
He’s a perky little fellow and fairly tame. I miss having a pet and my novels often feature animals…including a very charming pig called Rosie (she’s in ‘Ordinary Miracles), a budgie who likes saying ‘bollocks’ (‘Wise Follies’), a cocker spaniel (he’s in ‘Ready Or Not?’) and a brief but important appearance of a horse called Blossom (in ‘The Truth Club’).
I recently interviewed someone for an article about past life regression and a miniature schnauzer was in attendance. Her head was on my lap as I was making my notes. There was something about her that was just…well…gorgeous. She was sweet, sensitive and very much her own dog. When I left she actually stood in the doorway looking at me, in the manner of an affectionate hostess.