So I said, "Okay. That sounds cool, maybe I'll drop by."
All through the next two weeks I vacillated. Will I go? Won't I? Yesterday was kind of a bummer of a day, so I didn't really feel like stepping out of my comfort zone to meet with seven women I didn't know. In illustration class I asked my friend, "Should I go?" She said, "Well, you said you would, so that kind of obligates you." Darn you for your logic and integrity, Denise!
So I did. It was last night at 8:30. I don't know what I was worried about. Maybe the culture shock that I experienced when I first moved here. Maybe I thought there would be residual effects. Maybe I would start talking and wouldn't be able to stop? Maybe I wouldn't say a word? Maybe I wouldn't remember anything about Jane Eyre?
In the end, it was fine. All the women there were there because they love books. We talked about themes, characterization, recurring motifs. We had dessert. We shared book recommendations. There was nothing to worry about, especially considering that bibliophiles of varying levels will always be able to find something to talk about.
They're previewing an unpublished manuscript this next month. I opted out of that. I do enough editing in my life without taking on 400 more pages of a manuscript I'm not invested in. I take editing too seriously to do a cursory job, and something like that would seriously compromise my current projects.
But the book club was good. I'm glad I went.