There are two groups of people with whom I am totally at ease. I am ill at ease in almost every other social situation, and therefore shun the opportunity to serve up a good faux pas.
But I know writers. I love being around other writers. Our success level means nothing to me; I am as comfortable in a room full of New York Times bestsellers as I am new writing students. I’m not sure why that is, but it seems that we share some kind of a weird quirk that makes us all socially inappropriate to some degree, and therefore very forgiving of each other. We also share an uncommon curiousity about life that allows us to probe each other with impunity. And because we understand that curiosity in each other, we tend to open our lives and share ourselves willingly.
Tonight a group of writers is coming to my house for a pretrip meeting for this weekend’s Ghost Story Workshop, and I’m excited. I’m excited about seeing these old friends again and excited about spending an entire weekend with them, writing stories that I hope will scare us all.
So if you’re not with us this weekend, come Saturday night, know that fourteen of us will be sitting in a haunted boathouse, the dark lake waters lapping at the pilings, reading our scary stories by candlelight. We’ll be in our element.
And the other group with which I am completely comfortable? Well, that’s a blog for another day.