The Mystery Starts Here

Okay, I have to confess, I’m a people watcher. Nothing I love better than to sit in a quiet corner of a busy place and observe the great unwashed masses. One of my favorite places has always been airports. Boy, you see everything there, especially in the wee small hours of the night.  I haven’t been to an airport in a while, it’s no fun to travel anymore. I miss the good old days when I worked for North West Airlines and flew first class - everywhere. Remember the little four packs of Winston cigarettes on your tray? Linen cloths? Sterling silverware? Real china dishes? Steak, lobster, Champagne??? Let’s fact it, those days are gone, forever.

But I digress. I was talking about poeple watching. Today the hubby and I went to the fair! We go about every four years and that’s enough. I slathered my body in sunscreen, wore a hat and took as little to carry as possible, but made sure I had some 3×5 cards and a pen. Hey, I’m a writer, I go armed with the tools of my trade. Today I came back with a few character studies. There was the little old lady wearing a red T-shirt, red gauzy skirt down to her ankles, a huge multi-colored tote, silver tennies with a big purple hat. She was…interesting. I have no idea if she’ll ever turn up in one of my books, but I have a full description - right down to her fuzzy orange hair - in case she does.

As usual I was amazed at the number of people, men and women who wore flip-flops to the fair. Can you imagine a more uncomfortable footwear for miles of walking? And heels. I saw several women in high heels prompting me to say, HUH? Babies in strollers, people in wheelchairs, with canes and oxygen tanks. You see pretty much everything at the fair. We bought some junk, we ate some crap, I got some good character studies and had a wonderful time. That will hold us for another four years.

Early in my career, I belonged to a critique group that got together twice monthly. It was great for me as a beginning because, I really didn’t know what the heck I was doing! Oh, I took classes, read books and wrote and wrote and wrote. But the beauty of a critique group is feedback. Your fellow critiquers can spot those spelling errors, those holes in logic and wacky character discrepancies. Yup, they’re great for that. I learned a lot from my first group – we all did because we were all beginners and we helped one another. And there lies the rub.

Be especially wary of groups that are harsh in their judgment. I’ve heard of more than one writer who gave up because of the group’s cruel criticism and stopped writing. That’s sad. So if you find yourself in a group that’s not working for some reason, quit! Don’t worry about hurt feelings. This is your career we’re talking about! Find another group or start your own, but for heaven’s sake, don’t stop writing. One thing that has always puzzled me – and maybe someone out there in cyber-land can help. Why don’t men join critique group????? I’d really like to know!