My writers’ group had a cooler-than-usual meeting last month.
Writers’ groups are generally pretty cool. We don’t always sit around in black berets and drink coffee or wine and comment on existential truths in literature; that’s for special occasions only. Usually we have a few snacks and critique each other’s submissions. But this session was a special occasion of another kind; we had a fiction pitch-in.
Or at least that’s what I’m calling it. We were all to bring our usual ten pages, submitted in advance so we could all read and critique, but also a dish or dishes from our written world.
As my group is nicely cross-genre, this made for some fun contributions.
Garrett writes World War 2 thrillers set largely in Paris, so he brought a Bohemian supper of wine, bread, and Brie.
Stephanie is polishing a middle grade adventure about a multicultural family on a reality show, and so she made a ratatouille.
The other Stephanie writes second-world fantasy, and so she made an our-world version of spice bread and brought wine, a fantasy staple.
Jim‘s protagonist is acting as an exterminator on a planet overrun with rodents, so he brought some fried “runiga” to share, in a specially-updated container.
Peggy wasn’t able to join us, which was sad because I wanted to know what teens eat in post-deluge globally-warmed America. Probably something grown hydroponically…. Nor could Marcia make it, and since her current story involves trolls in backwoods Kentucky, that could have been quite a fun dish!
And I brought food from two sources. My group had helped with Con Job, so I brought colorful Japanese snacks as typical J-con fare. But this month’s pages were from a short story set in Spain, so I brought paella and gachas as well.