You are in a hurricane and you don't even know it or You write with too many brackets!

The circle was either a sun or a moon. I think each person in the circle thought they were a sun. Our writer's collective was like that. Every person there felt their own writing so much more powerfully than each others, apart from one girl, who barely read us anything. Whether she wrote or not at all we all silently wondered, I think. I mean, it wasn't like we discussed it, we all had our suspicions though (or perhaps it was just me). Writers (if what was collected in that large, echoing room every fortnight could be called that) are funny. So many seem to just manufacture depth and experiences from nothing. It seems all very deceptive; they come off sounding like authorities but to give these guys any grounding would see your life thrown into a hurricane.

Collectively through, through the lens of the entire history of the world: we were a tiny, tiny moon. We basked in reflected glory and shone down on everyone else; actually it was less shining and more gloating down on everyone else. Anyway, the point is we were not a sun. We did nothing new and spent most of the time suspecting each other of not fulfilling the quota that we would set each time we met (every fortnight if you weren't paying attention). So sitting in a ragged circle in a large, old classroom with wooden floors and stone walls (basically a machine for generating noise- squeaking chairs, a cough, the following 'excuse me', then of course the drone of the person telling their story which sounded as though it were spoken from a narrow hallway and bounced off every wall as it ran up to meet you, or the way I ten- pin bowl. We would reel off stories, mostly just written for each other, and suspect each other (silently of course) of plagiarism or perhaps just ponder exploding out of the group with delusions of grandeur.

I have really no way of finishing this expect to point out what I tried to do. Firstly, those who know me will know that this is all lies- I do not attend a 'writer's collective' but if I did I think I just convinced myself to leave. Secondly, being false, I tried to critique myself and you as the reader by having a go at writers and their crazy plans for world domination (or maybe me and my crazy plans for world domination). Thirdly, I tried to write in a lighter, more personal and ultimately more comedic tone. And lastly it was just practice and I had to come up with something...

I'd love to know what you think so send me a letter (a real letter, not one of these crazy e- letter things) at 17 Neirbo Ave Hurstville 2220. And please don't firebomb my house and for those actually considering writing a letter remember how hard it is and long it takes to walk to the post box, and you don't have any stamps anyway.