I’ve read that a great way to learn more about writing quickly is by joining some kind of writer’s circle or critique group. So, I’ve been looking around, and found there’s only one local group around where I live, called “Wordsmiths by Night” (named such because they all have day jobs, and gather together at night after work to write at the local coffee shops). That sounded really nice, but I guess I was hoping for a fiction-only group. Maybe even a fantasy-only group. I checked at my college and, to my dismay, they didn’t even have a writing club! Realizing how limited my options were, and not having the free time to run my own, I took my search online.

I joined writing.com and critiquecircle.com, but the upgrade-to-paid-membership schemes there were a big turn-off. Luckily, I came across a blog that mentioned Forward Motion (fmwriters.com). I was surprised I hadn’t come across it before, considering it was founded by Holly Lisle. It’s been around for more than ten years and the group is tightly knit. It houses a treasure-trove of knowledge and the people there are very friendly, patient, and willing to help writers of any skill-level. Their mission statement is basically to guide its members to a writing level suitable for being considering for publication. Despite the website’s archaic appearance, it’s one of the largest writer’s communities out there. Considering the friendly, inviting atmosphere, I’m not surprised!

They post challenges every month as writing warm-ups, and this month was haikus. I dove right into their challenge and had a lot of fun. And, as usual, critiques are welcome!

Dare I rhyme haiku,
Even though I don’t have to?
Dare to rhyme, I do.

Scratches on the wall …
In a jail cell … in a jail
Cell … in a jail cell…

To him, it was like
A morganatic union;
Left us with nothing.

She loves to stare close.
Capricious eyes. Left to right.
Exploring my face.

Memories will make
Outliving you too painful.
And death, too blissful.

What are the odds we,
In this era, together,
Got to fall in love?

Perception:
No one else will see
From these eyes.

Wings awash in wind.
Tumbling, soaring, living.
One with the heavens.

My song travelling,
Time and time and time again,
Beyond the branches.

Where could they be now;
The stories I wrote for you
Many years ago?

Prairie grass so tall,
I could pretend I was a
Savanna lion.

On our knees, we searched.
Elusive four-leaf clover
Hiding in the green.

It’s incredible;
Vibrant colors that spring forth,
From impeding death.

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