I’ve decided to start a Melbourne Writers’ Club. A monthly, engaging, supportive place for writers to gather, have a glass of wine or a cup of coffee, network, share ideas and stories and keep up to date with industry news.
I love spending time with like-minded people. I love listening to people and learning about them, and from them. And I love writing, and anything that encourages it.
I also love the idea of being in a club. Because, let’s face it, as you get older, unless you play a team sport or are a parent, the chance of you belonging to a club is zero to none.
And I don’t mean being a member of a club – we’re all in on those – whether it’s our footy team, or gym, or workplace, or a committee of some sort. I mean being a part of a club. One that isn’t virtual. Or ad hoc. A club that meets, face to face, on the first Tuesday of each month, or something wonderfully lovely like that. One where each member feels a part of something special because they are the only members. And it has nothing to do with exclusivity – but rather the melding of a common love and a talent and a desire to do something with it. A desire to grow, learn, be better. Share, support and laugh.
Yes, I love the idea of a club.
The Melbourne Writers’ Club.
That’s what it’s going to be called.
And it’s going to be magic.
Perhaps I should create a secret club handshake? Or a codeword? Personalised pens? Maybe purchase a Tiffany key to adorn a chain each member must wear…actually, perhaps not.