THE ROOM ON THE ZOOM by PENNY DOLAN

It is morning. Cup of tea in hand, I amble to my workroom next to the kitchen and fire up the computer. I need to be alone. I need the silence.

 

AND THEN . . .

I get the WIP up on the screen and . . . remember two important email replies. I open email. In fact - surprise? - there are more than two. I read, I muse, I dither and some get done.

I return to the WIP on the screen and . . . the washing-machine starts grumbling across the way. "Feed me or you shall have no clothes!" I sort it. A plastic cube in the freezer starts shouting "Defrost me, defrost me, or you shall eat ice and die!" The cat, in from the garden, parades in front of my screen, weaving his neon-bright thought-bubble."Meatblob now. NOW! NOW!" I sort it. 

 I turn to the WIP on screen . . . and the very nice sociable someone in the house is being sociable, so a nice and necessary chat is had. 

I return to the WIP on screen,and a neighbour comes to the back door for a garden chat. He can see me through the window. How, in this not-a-lockdown lockdown, can I not respond? I open the door.

I return to the WIP on screen. I need a coffee. I make a coffee. And by now the self-pitying gloom has set in. I am alone in my not-writing room.

AND THEN, ON ANOTHER DAY . . .
It is morning. Mug of tea in hand, I hurry to my workroom next to the kitchen and fire up the computer. It is almost time.

I get the WIP up on the screen and . . . Adapt the position and size of its display. I place my "running thoughts & corrections" notebook ready nearby. There is no time to look at emails or catch the sounds of the house.

 

I open up the Zoom link, adapt the position and size. And there it is: The Room on the Zoom. I glance at the miniature gallery of writers' faces, all signed in for that particular session. They have their work - and, yes, I have my my own work too, needing my attention. There are smiles and nods but we are all muted. 

The host - and hooray for her or him or them - adds a "Morning!" to the chatline, and we're off. 

For two hours, silently, everybody writes. privately yet sort-of-publicly. We work on whatever we need to: short form or long, ideas, notes or edits. We work however we need to: handwriting, typing, scribbling or even sketching. If you're late, that's okay. If you leaving early, pop a goodbye in the chatline. Nobody bothers overmuch.

At the end of two hours, people unmute. Some leave, some stay and chat for a bit afterwards but not for long. Everyone's busy with their whatever. Cats to feed. Laundry to kill. Neighbour and nice person outside in the sun to join for a short while. 

However, the magical thing is that the energy of the morning's working moment stays and encourages. The work began and it can continue later. Do not despair.  

The Room on the Zoom isn't a morning only time. It appears at other times during the day. If something happens and you can't join today, you can sit in tomorrow.  And there's no travelling involved. So far, this loose pattern works for me and feels like an absolute blessing.

I've been trying this out since mid-August and what have I discovered about my writing self?

I  needed the silence but I didn't need to be alone.  

I needed more writing faces than mine, not Facebook & Co faces.

I needed, if seemed, to be able to be there among my writing tribe.

So far, The Room on the Zoom is working well. I have hopes for September.

I'd like to say huge thanks to everyone setting up or running online projects like these - and also that Room on the Zoom is my own fictional name for the group.  

 Penny Dolan

ps. I know there are sorts of other ways for writers to support each other: writing buddies, cafe-writing groups, critique groups, mentoring schemes and so on. Do tell us about any that have worked for you in the comments.

@pennydolan1