Isn't a grog some sort of pirate libation?

So a little over a year ago my (still fairly new) friend Sophie says to me,

"Hey, want to be on a grog?"

Not being up on my pirate drinks, I say: "Sure...um...isn't grog sort of like mead, or honey wine? Couldn't we just have scotch?"

"No, it's a group blog. Want to join us?"

"Um...er...no thanks." Says I. "I'm unclear on the whole concept. I mean, I have nothing to say. And why would anyone care what I think about anything, anyway?"

"Super," says Sophie. "We've got a planning meeting set for Saturday. Bring margarita mix."

And before I knew what hit me I was traipsing around in a graveyard, where the Pens Fatales were posing for rock album cover-style photos (with the talented and eternally patient Gigi handling all technical aspects, luckily) and all the Pens were so cool and snarky and accomplished I couldn't say no.

And now a year later, I'm not sure what I would have done without them. Because, among other things, if it weren't for them I would have no friends.

Not because they're my only friends, but because they've helped me avoid alienating even the most devout buddies. Take it from me: if you want to write, long term, you need writing pals.

Imagine, if you will, how quickly the eyes of friends and family glaze over when I wax on about the unfairness of bookstore shelving placement and why copy-editors hate semi-colons. And how normal people (with commutes and day jobs they abhor) start seething when I whine about having to be creative every single day. And is there a non-writing person alive who could understand why I fantasize about those cardboard stands near the bookstore registers? (*oh*, how I want me a cardboard stand full of my books!)

My son's idea of the ideal T-shirt to wear around his mom

And this effect is only intensified by our typically solo work situation.

Here's the moral of my story: a writer without writer-friends is soon a writer without any friends at all.

Other writers have your back. Series discontinued? A long treatise on the idiocy and lack of foresight of the publishing industry. Bad review? Snarky comments about how the worst reviews are written by wannabe writers who don't have a shot at publication. Can't remember how to write? Hilarious plot development over chicken and waffles at the Merritt Bakery. Can't remember why you ever wanted--in fact, chased after-- the unending Sturm und Drang of this underpaid, overstressed profession? Gossip over single-malt scotch in an illegally smokey Oakland dive bar.

So spare your non-writing friends and family. If you want to be a writer, and someone offers you a grog, just say yes. The alcoholic kind is surprisingly good, and the group blog kind...well...if my experience counts for anything, it's priceless.

--Juliet