Book groups and writing
I have joined my local library-run book group, which meets once a month to read a book that’s chosen by somebody called Claire or Clare somewhere undefined. Twenty or so copies are handed out, which is useful now I’m living in relative poverty, and then returned the following month after our debate. So far we’ve read: the biography of the Brontes by Jude Morgan, who I assumed to be a woman even though it says ‘he’ in the blurb; Them, by Nathan McCall, which resulted in an interesting discussion of racism and relationships between people from different cultural backgrounds; and Kamila Shamsie’s Burnt Shadows, which some readers found disjointed because of the skipped decades and others found aweesome. The group is very friendly and welcoming. The readers are avid and intelligent. Many of our discussions concern the actions of characters; we all like characters who are convincing and flawed. I keep chipping in going, ‘What do the pigeons mean?’
I can’t believe I’m a full-time writer, with the luxury of plunging every morning from sleep into writing my new novel. I’ll stop myself from raving on about how wonderful the experience is, and limit myself to saying Hi to Kay who reminded me to post another entry on this blog.
