Last weekend, I travelled up to London to meet up with a group of m/m authors and readers, and it was really rather nice. We all sat around in a pub and chatted, and drank, and ate. Some people knew everyone, some people were brand new to the group, but the whole thing was relaxed and friendly and fun.
I wanted to write a little something about the day, but it’s taken me a while to get my thoughts in order. Writing this now, I’m still not entirely sure what I want to say about it. I met some lovely people, I got some great writing advice, but I guess one of the main things I’ve been thinking about since, is that everyone I’ve told about the day has asked me if I enjoyed myself: did I have a good time? To which, of course, the answer is, yes. But also, it’s not quite that simple.
