Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Blood & Chocolate

Maybe it was first grade when I refused to hold my pencil the correct way (smart enough to switch to "my way", once the teacher passed my desk). Maybe it was in middle school, my English teacher declaring on my report card Corey has a very unique way of using words and phrases. Or just maybe it was in High school, our town's only college (Francis Marion, which is now a University) sponsored a short story contest open to all three High schools. Out of all the entries (I don't remember the exact number, or if that information was ever revealed), there was first place, second place and honorable mention. The latter prize was bestowed upon me. I was surprised, shocked really, but ultimately very happy about the honor. (Entries were due in the winter; results were in the spring)

Blood & Chocolate, the story was called. A rather pedestrian title, I think, looking back, but at the time I thought it was really cool. Which also raises another maybe scenario: maybe it was Stephen King that hooked me into writing. (My term paper was on contrasting the literary styles of Stephen Edwin King and Edgar Allan Poe!) I've been an avid reader of all his work, Misery and The Shining among my many favorites. Blood & Chocolate premise was a simple one really--a boy who refuses to clean his room, discovers that something has been born there and it is growing daily, getting hungrier. When he does decided to clean his room, well, it's too late.

So yes: I'd say these things (and many others) have been instrumental in my writer's path. So many ideas filtering through my conscious|subconscious, in order to create stories my way: from the heart of Coreyville--with a pencil or otherwise.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Who We Are; Why We're Here.

Welcome to Quill and Coffee. This is our blog.

In 2006, upon completion of Susan Breen's Fiction class at Gotham Writer's Workshop, four classmates banded together with a commitment to carry on the writers' community the class had sparked. Trust, so essential to such an undertaking, was already established; works were submitted, exchanged, and critiqued.

Words flowed.

New members joined. Some left. We have changed meeting locations, times, and frequency, yet the group has met regularly since those first days. Today we number seven in-person and eight online.

We hail from the midwest, the south, the east coast, and right here in Manhattan.

We are Gen Y and Gen X, Baby Boomers, and survivor of The Great Depression.

We have children, step children, foster children, grandchildren, and no children.

We are managers, tech writers, editors and stagehands; former political and fashion insiders, therapists and homeless shelter directors.

We are teachers and students.

We are black and white and read all over.

We are dog people and cat people.

We are people who ordinarily might not mix, save for one reason: We write.

We write children's books and stories for young adults, women's fiction, chicklit, suspense, fantasy, sci-fi, and things we can't quite define. We blog.

We write for pleasure and to lay pain flat on the page. We write to tell the story that will not be silenced. We write seeking truth and we write spinning lies. We write to find reality through fantasy. We write to stay sane. We write to record history. We write to fill in the blanks. We write because we are drawn to lighted windows and people talking in cars, and wonder what is happening in those homes and what the people in the cars are saying and because we don't know, we make it up. We write in search of that elusive writer's high when the words just flow. We write to entertain, to make people laugh. We write, because it's what we do.

We've laid out some questions for our group and presented ourselves with the challenge of answering them here in hopes of spurring discussion and insights. We're glad you're here.

Why do you write?