Okay, apparently the writer's group is pretty relaxed in its organisation. And since I copped a caning from all concerned re declining of the invite, I've now said yes.
The meeting is Sunday week.
Count me in, I wrote nervously.
I have one shitty short story to take. What with meth come down last week and nicotine withdrawal this week, I haven't written a word for 10 days.
But, I guess, I only need one piece, hey?
They welcomed me back. Yay! They all hoped I'd change my mind. I'm shitting myself. Fuck! I've got nothing good to take. But, I guess, that's the point of a writer's group, hey?
Now, I'm going to ride my bike over to my mums, exercise is one of the best cures for the ciggie screams.
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