The family I’m talking about is a group of writers who have all done the same MA in Creative Writing at Edinburgh Napier University. We meet from time to time at the elegant and convenient Looking Glass Books and over coffee/tea and scones/millionaire shortbread we share our successes and failures — both literary and other kinds.
I was particularly struck today by the warmth of the group. They bombarded me with compliments of the kind I hardly ever get these days, particularly because my actual family is getting smaller and smaller — (for all sorts of reasons). Our group is as different from the Real Housewives of all those strange American gated communities as porridge is from nails. Look that was a poetic device–I don’t mean the group is like porridge or indeed nails. More like a big hug.
Today we celebrated the cover of one writer’s soon to be published novel and another’s enjoyment of recently becoming a full time writer. We heard about a glorious idea for a writers space and place for youngsters to write and be heard and swopped ideas for writing workshops. One of us might be summering on a Finnish island so we considered applying for funding to join her at the arts festival there.
We laughed, sighed, and confirmed our places in the writing world. It was a nourishing afternoon.