Raumerstrasse Writers

Writing about leaving any place that has shaped you, introduced you to new and inspiring people, made you grow, truly awakened some part of you can be a little sad. If, however, you can keep what you’ve learned, remember it, and call it up when you need it, then even with the sadness, leaving becomes a tribute to the people and the time you spent together. Toni Morrison once said something like,’it’s a good thing to miss someone before they are gone.’ I understood this feeling during my last writers’ group meeting in Berlin. I was leaving a specific inspiration behind–a talented, smart, funny, friendly, supportive group of voices.

I was saying goodbye to Jen, a young poet whose work read like it was ageless. Each time she shared her poetry, I wondered how she crafted such precise images, wrote with such clarity. I wondered how long it took her to compose, and how much she revised. I was in awe. Poetry, I think, is supposed to evoke emotions. There is often a deliberate, sweet ambiguity, a lovely mystery to a well-written poem. Poems should leave you with some sense of wonder. At the same time, I think the poet is aware that the more specific the image, the better the chance that the reader will feel something. Each reader will most likely, (and hopefully) have a different response. Positive or negative, humorous or thought-provoking, the poet and the reader are in a relationship. With Jen’s work, I felt immediately inside. Whether the poem was inspired by her personal memories or her daily observations, she caught me. And I loved being under her spell.

I was saying goodbye to Ralph, a short story writer who would also make a fine novelist. I say this because the stories he read this summer seemed connected. At almost every meeting, we had the pleasure of visiting with Ralph’s colorful characters. There was Flora, the socially-challenged socialite, the pug with the identity crises, and the baby who appeared out of thin air. The constant voice of Ralph’s narrator also made me think a novel was brewing within his work. The omniscient narrator was witty, direct, observant, often amused by what he saw, and sometimes socially awkward himself (like many writers are). We loved him. We all waited to “hear” from those characters. Maybe Ralph was writing a novel, maybe a series of short stories, or maybe even a script for a sit-com. Whatever he was doing, his sense of humor, his awareness of how to tell a story right–the right amount of description and dialogue, a solid build up, unique twists..all of it, simply worked. Like Jen, Ralph enchanted, and I loved it.

Last, but certainly not least, I was saying goodbye to Christine. Christine wrote vignettes, short stories, and poetry. She had a lovely, bright honesty to her work, a sense of strength that often caught her by surprise. This is the thing about writing and the benefit of having a trusted critique group. Sometimes you feel like you don’t know what you’re doing. You may only know what you’re hearing. This feels like a spark. Then, you have to write your way to it, trusting that the process of writing will actually guide you. This can be scary, and I think it should be. With Christine, she trusted that voice of process. While she may have been surprised at times by her own powerful voice, I think it helped that we saw it. I’m glad she trusted us. Her topics often centered around the strong women within her family as well as her own physical and mental fortitude. Perhaps this was why her work was so stunning. I think she wrote her way into many places and emotions this past summer. Christine was also my confidant outside of writers’ group, and I miss her big, big, big!

I know we will continue to keep in touch, and we will send each other our work. But this is not the same as sitting together in a cafe or bar, hearing each others’ voices, seeing each others’ faces, laughing together, and challenging each other to be better at what we do, who we are. Writers. The Raumerstrasse Writers Group Summer 2013 at Shakespeare and Sons Bookstore and Cafe…I love you!