The screenwriter’s group I took part in last fall and into the winter disbanded and reformed in the spring to meet Tuesdays. The group focused on specific exercises that frankly did not appeal to me and chose to meet on Tuesday, my hockey night. I dropped out, but stayed in the e-mail loop.
This summer, the group has started to switch days, I’m not playing hockey, and the format has loosened. I attended a meeting last night.
We were eight people, all of us working writers of one sort or another. One person was new to me, the rest I knew from past gatherings. Much of the old group’s deadwood has been cut away. The old group was so large so as to have been unwieldy, and many of the attendees were folks with too many words of not enough value. They’re gone, and discussions now focus on outlines and structure and art vs. entertainment, and nobody offered to share how they would have written someone else’s idea.
Bonus photo of Child Three: