The June 17 meeting of the Writer’s Group was held in the Children’s Department of the Gadsden Public Library at five o’clock with four members attending. ”Summer activities,” suggested Lynne, who has missed the last two weeks herself. The meeting opened with a short discussion about the indefinite use of pronouns and the effectiveness of active voice.
“Hey, everyone!” Peter Rose walked in, pulled up an entire table, knocking chairs askew, dropping his ever-present folder, and depositing a curious bag of treasures on the floor. ”I didn’t know we were meeting here.” His charming British accent and soft voice are apology enough for a late and disruptive entrance. ”They’re having some sort of musical in our room, aren’t they?”
“The School of Rock,” explained Susan.
“What?” asked Terry. “They’re talking about rocks? I used to play rock school when I was a little girl.”
“I did, too!” Exclaimed Lynne. “What a surprise REAL school was when I learned you had to sit still and be quiet!”
“OK, y’all, “I began again. It was almost six and our time was dwindling.
“Is this where …” Jean’s soft voice wafted into the room as she asked Hilary, “the writer’s group meets? I went into our room and there were all those people just sitting there with music playing. I stayed for a few minutes. Could we have music next week? I’ll bring some CDs. Oh, yes, and I came yesterday, but you all weren’t meeting.”
“No,” I explained, “we’re meeting on Tuesday until August 4th.”
“The music was certainly nice,” Jean mused.
“Okay, does anyone have anything to copy? We are close to the mimeograph machine in this room.”
“Where?” Pat demanded.
“Where, what?”
“Where’s the mimeograph machine? I can’t believe you said that, Glenda!”
“You’re not THAT old! Why you can’t even remember using those purple sheets as a teacher …”
