When I sold my businesses about 15 years ago and announced to the world that I was allowing myself one year to write the “Great American Novel,” I received seven books on how to write novels for Christmas. I actually read a couple of them. One of those devoted significant space to the concept of “never join a writers group. Never, never, never join a writers group that serves anything to eat or drink.”

Even though I had written newspaper columns and features for many years, I quickly learned I knew nothing about writing a novel. I just as quickly joined a writer’s group called Daedalus. But, thank God, they did not serve anything to eat or drink. Entrance to the group required the members’ approval and the applicant must have published a piece of fiction. I squeaked under the door with one published short story.

There were accomplished authors in the group: Jay Brandon (The Chris Sinclair mystery series; Executive Privilege); Linda Lay Schuler (She Who Remembers; Voice of the Eagle; Let the Drum Speak); Robert Flynn (Growing Up a Sullen Baptist, and Other Lies; North to Yesterday; Slouching Toward Zion and More Lies). The meetings were dismal; no laughter, no camaraderie, and no encouragement. Consequently, few members submitted work for critique and meetings were sporadic. But to a sponge like myself the chance to soak up some knowledge was appreciated.

The group’s membership waxed and waned, languished, but never flourished until I broke tradition and served some really good wine to a meeting held at my home. That meeting and the subsequent ones were more enjoyable. Attendance improved, submissions increased, and the tension dissolved into creative goodwill. The more accomplished writers felt the time squeeze and dropped out over time, and other filled their places until only two of us have made it all the way through to today.

I truthfully can say that anything I’ve learned about fiction writing I’ve learned from Daedalus. Today we have six members: five women, and me. We are four college professors, one high school drama teacher, and me, the sponge. Two are PhD’s. One of those is in romance languages, so when I write a book like Vamonos! my Spanish insertions are impeccable. Four of the group have novels published by smaller houses. Two have agents and one is in the final stages of breaking into a major publishing house.

We meet once a month and critique three 20-page submissions. We would miss communion before Daedalus, although I missed the night Texas University beat USC for the National Championship (Hook ‘em Horns). We critique sagaciously, laugh at our foibles, eat good food, and drink good wine. We are a cohesive group working to help each other succeed.

Each seems to have something special to add to a critique. One can spot a change in point of view from across the room. Another can lift unnecessary words from text like a surgeon removing stitches. Two are rock rib gramarians. Another has a lyrical sense of pace, rhythm and plot. All have an excellent sense of story.

It took a dozen years to get Daedalus to where it is today. I would have lost hope long ago without their support. We have many who want to join Daedalus, but we don’t want to fix something that’s not broken. There is no reason others can’t put together similar groups. My only advice is pick members who like each other, who are serious writers, set ground rules, and for God’s sake serve good food and wine.