Yorkshire Writers' Lunch

Five years ago today the first Writers’ Lunch blog post appeared. 261 posts and over 125,000 words later, it is still going strong. The first post, by Emma Harding, was a simple manifesto which has served the lunchers and contributors well. I recommend reading the post, but the essence lies in this quote - ‘we have found that it helps to help each other.’ Over the five years the numbers for the weekly lunch, in a café in Huddersfield, have expanded, contracted and expanded again. There is no quorum, no constitution, no membership, no fees and no requirement to post. Over 20 different writers have contributed with a range of stories, poems, and creative non-fiction. With regard to fiction, there must some genres we have not covered, but writers have used the blog opportunity to experiment with their style and try something different. All contributors are taking steps in the process that makes a writer – building up a body of work, distinctive to that individual. A number of co...

There were noises   coming from the house. Loud, manic laughter and pulsing music. The sort that could get on your nerves if you weren’t in the right mood. And she wasn’t. She walked towards the building at a slow pace, each step dragging her in. There were flashing lights. She hated flashing lights; they made her eyes go funny. A car shot past, screeching to a halt. Two men got out but didn’t see her, standing in the dark as she was. They rang the doorbell and were greeted enthusiastically, Music spilled out, some sort of dance music, she supposed. Not her sort of thing at all. She was too old for that sort of nonsense. The door slammed shut and peace was relatively restored. The level of irritation and annoyance swelled inside her, and she could no longer stay still. The house was calling to her and she quietly let herself in through the unlocked door. Everyone appeared to be in the room to the left, so she made her way over to the right. The kitchen was a place of ...