The Critic's Choice

For several years I belonged to a writers group that met every Friday at the local library. I learned how to critique from this diverse collection of writers, a seasoned bunch who could tell a newbie in the most diplomatic way his flash fiction stunk.

For three hours we gave and took with the best, and if not exactly rescuing Western literature, we did become better writers. Afterwards, some of the longer-winded convened at a Greek restaurant to continue the dialogue with dolmas and black coffee.

I returned home late in the afternoon, full, perhaps a bit brighter, but useless for the rest of the day. Being a reluctant member of the working class, I knew my literary Fridays could not last.

Later an opportunity I couldn’t refuse landed in my e-mail box – an invitation to join an on-line critique group. This group gave me all the advantages of the one at the library, plus an added bonus – I could critique at home.

Working from home lets me enjoy my natural slothfulness, and, while the old nine to five forced me to wear a management approved shirt, I can now sport my favorite Muppets tee-shirt, or, if I choose, no shirt at all. I just hope the critique group doesn’t decide to add video conferencing.