The Western Port Writers Group is the second iteration of an idea by a local emerging writer Tessa Moriarty, to create a regular gathering of locals who share the love of writing. Two of the group members write about their experience of the fortnightly sessions.
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Susie Utting –
Our meetings begin with a hot cuppa and a bikky or cake. We sit around the long table and report our last fortnight’s writing experiences – what we learned and/or achieved. Everyone is pursuing different projects: a personal memoir, a YA sci-fi fantasy, a book for small children, a family history, a recording of a traumatic medical event, creation of a local history artefact, a collection of biographies of scientific luminaries, sketches of cherished local everyday routines. Not everyone has settled on a writing pursuit. Some come along to find their very special interest, listening to others and using the silent writing time (45 minutes) to experiment with styles and genres. Some like to immediately share what they write while others prefer to take their efforts home to alter/edit and perhaps present at a future meeting.
The time always flies. All too soon we take our empty cups back to the kitchen, chatting about writing goals for the coming weeks, sharing links to upcoming writing competitions, festivals and thank the host for another enjoyable, informative writing session.
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George Lancaster –
I moved to Somers from Sydney late November last year and by February became a member of the Westernport Writers Group (WWG). The group (WWG itself, not necessarily its members!) already feels like family. We meet fortnightly at a member’s house and enjoy two hours of warm fellowship over words. And delicious homemade baked goods members bring to accompany our teas and coffees. Something about eating and drinking together adds cosiness.
WWG boasts over twelve members, though we have yet to gather all at once. So far, it’s ranged from four to ten people at a time, allowing ample attention for each participant. And what’s interesting is the variation on hand. Some of us are essayists, some are fiction writers, some are both, and some are poets. A few of us have been published for previous work, but all of us are non-professional in terms of what we’re trying to write now, the intent for which also varies. I dabble in short story contests. Others are working on a particular project or setting down snippets of their lives for a family audience. It doesn’t matter. A love of words is what we share.
Over time we’ve developed a workflow that segments the two hours into distinct activities that engage us all. These range from reading aloud pieces we’ve written (or a piece we’ve read somewhere and particularly like), soliciting incisive, helpful, and ego-boosting comments about what we’ve read, and discussing what we’ve written since the last session and what we plan to work on before the next one.
Of course, a good chunk of each session is writing, giving ourselves forty-five minutes of cerebral quiet. Except the tapping of laptop keys. I prefer pen and paper, for what reason I’m not sure, since my handwriting’s so bad I sometimes can’t decipher a specific word I’ve written after the fact. Maybe it momentarily brings me back to school age all those years ago. In any event, those forty-five minutes go by fast. And joyfully. As do the full two hours. Which keeps us coming back for more.
