I have recently joined a new writing critique group, organized at least loosely through the Kentucky Romance Writers of America.

(Aside to everyone who knows me, knows my fiction, knows my home in New England: You are thinking, “Romance?” You are thinking, “Kentucky?” It’s complicated. Don’t ask.)

This crit group was so successfully subscribed that it divided itself into subgroups, and I am in the Fantasy subgroup.

(Aside to everyone who knows me: You are thinking, “Well, aha!” You sit back in satisfaction at knowing *something*, at least, that makes some sense. And I feel the same way. I know something about you, too.)

There are nine of us in this group. So far, maybe half a dozen have submitted pieces to be critiqued, and each of the submittals has received three to six reviews. The reviews are detailed and thoughtful. I can honestly say that the three reviews I received so far on my story have been eye-opening.

And not just the reviews. *We* are eye-opening. We are so different, one from another. We live in all parts of the country (okay, maybe more in Kentucky than elsewhere, but plenty of elsewhere too). Some of us are still in college and some of us have children who have already finished college. Though we all write “fantasy,” our works are in quite different genres. You would be surprised. Some of us have published many books; others are still hoping.

And here’s the thing that blows Dan away. The critiques are given generously, carefully, wholeheartedly. I’d even say lovingly. (Adverbs… one of our topics of discussion… Aren’t writers an interesting bunch? 😉  In a profession where competition is so mind-bogglingly fierce, writers are unselfishly kind and helpful to one another. If any of us makes it, we are all genuinely happy. We want to boost every last one of us over the fence.

We’re in this together.

And here’s the thing that blows me away: We’re also all in our own separate worlds. Jagi frets over Kestrel and shapes him and smooths him and lives with him and loves him and molds him and makes him real. I do the same for Kell, and Linda for Moira. There’s no overlap. Not of time, space, world, or destiny. We create them with such love and such tenderness and such difficulty, and so imperfectly.

This is *hard work*.

We have to help each other, or we wouldn’t stand a chance.