| Status: | Active, open to new members |
| Contact: | |
| When: | Monthly on Thursday mornings Second Thursday of the month. 10:00am - 12:00pm |
| Venue: | The White Hart Hotel, Hook |
I guess we would describe ourselves as dedicated amateurs when it comes to writing. However, I never cease to be amazed by just how many different directions a 500-word piece can go on a single subject.
After having decided on a subject at the previous meeting, we gather to discuss and critique each other's work in a light-hearted, friendly atmosphere. After much fun and laughter, we decide on a winner, who's work will then get added to the webpage. See below.
Although we just have one winner each month, I believe that we all win, gaining valuable feedback on our work whilst growing our skills in order to critique the work of others.
If you would like to be put on the waitlist, contact the Group Contact above..
Go back to exploring all of our groups here.
The White Heart
By Nick Granger
I really needed that rescue call’ breathed Jane, slumping thankfully. ‘That proved to be one dud date.’
Kathy, dependably sympathetic to a flatmate whose ability to date weirdos was legendary, asked ‘What was so bad this time. I made the 19.30 call, and heard you launch into a tale about your beloved dog that had swallowed a plastic toy and you had to get him to the vet.’
‘It looked so promising at the start’ ...
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________
Other Recent Work by the group: Dark Wood The Mary poppins bag The bird feeder
Pieces from our Creative Writing groups
-
The Mary Poppins Bag by Swati Patel
"The Mary Poppins Bag" a piece by Swati Patel from one of our creative writing groups.
-
Change by Patricia Saunders
Now Christmas is overThe house is very changed,No more toys and children’s books,No more cards and games. Now the tree is packed away,Decorations cleared,Changed the beds and washed the towels,Excitement’s disappeared. No more party dressesAnd twirling round in glee,No more shouts and squabbles,Now only him and me. Moving back the table,Rearranging chairs,Time to clean the
-
Dark Woods
Anne Appelboam, Creative Writing 3 A perfect day for a walk, sun from a cerulean sky, a cool but gentle breeze barely rippling the leaves on the new spring growth. How lucky we are to live in such a delightful village in such a beautiful part of North Hampshire. I strolled down the drive, crossed
-
Late
By Nick Granger, Creative Writing Group 3 Janet sat in the soft grey leather armchair, looking out of the window at the garden. She gave a smile of satisfaction at the huge hydrangea blooms. The special food Bill had put down in the spring had been well worth it. The house was quiet, and she
-
The Carrier
By Gill Jury, Creative Writing group 1 I am immortal. Let me explain.I transmute, you see.When one of my journeys is over, I immediately start another.I cannot die. I am immortal. Maybe you think I’m a parasite, that I feed off other creaturesBut nothing could be further from the truth.They feed off me. So what
-
The Coat
By Anne Appelboam, Creative Writing group 3 It was a striking vintage coat, dark burgundy with a nipped in waist and wide lapels; an authentic piece of wartime clothing with the CC41 Utility label still attached. Lucy loved it. She was helping at a sale of good quality second hand clothing, and one of the
-
First Love by Swati Patel
(From one of our Creative Writing groups.) “Do I look OK?” Judith asked as she hurriedly got into the car. “You look fabulous, as always,” replied her husband, George, almost automatically. They were leaving to go to Judith’s Aunt Edna’s funeral.“Not always,” muttered Judith. “What’s that? You have always looked chic, ever since I have
-
Pinnacle Moment by Nick
Rob Dillon’s dad was a respected tuner of Matchless G50 racers. His G50s always managed to deliver a little more top speed and a little more pull out of slow corners without sacrificing reliability. Consequently, he had a queue of riders asking him to work his magic on their engines. Rob could never remember seeing
-
The Bird Feeder
Mary settled down with a coffee and a digestive in her old armchair to watch the birds on her feeder. The variety of little visitors she saw through her window was the envy of her circle of friends. She regularly purchased bird food from the local garden centre. It was expensive, but she didn’t care;