Wednesday afternoons have become somewhat of a highlight of my week. Wednesday afternoons I leave clear of other committments in order to spend time in a sun-drenched room on the second floor of a seniors' club. I am not a member - although I am now old enough to legitimately be one; rather, I help out with a creative writing session that is geared toward the many marginalized people who live in the area - the elderly poor, the homeless, those struggling with mental health issues.
We read writing that we have brought along with us. We offer observations, encouragement. We drink coffee, we talk and we listen, about writing but also about fears and hopes. I usually bring along a listing of free upcoming literary events that are easy to reach by bus or train.
Recently, after a session that ran uncharacteristically short of literary focus, the facilitator/creator/brains-behind-the-program suggested that we try some in-class writing. I started compiling a list of writing prompts and we have been dipping into it for the odd bit of inspiration.
It's surprisingly freeing, this scribbling madly amongst others for ten minutes at a time. I think I need to incorporate that method into my work writing on occasion. Although perhaps not. Stream of consciousness may work for the odd album review, but I doubt it will be looked upon too kindly when submitted for a corporate eblast.