Conspirators

One day a month ( today ), a handful of creative friends and I meet up in a coffee house in Dalgety Bay and chew the fat. We drink too much coffee, catch up on the previous month's trials and triumphs, talk about the latest topics in the creative world. We solve each others creative problems, and talk about our own.

It's a chance to come out of the little bubble that's so common when working for yourself in the creative industries, and reset your way of thinking. It's a place to critique, to conspire, to reassure, to realise that - yes - everyone else feels like this too. Also, it's a hoot. A chance to throw away that insularity for a few hours.

Frequently, the chat just zips along randomly, stream of consciousness-like, to other things. I come away ready for another month, smiling despite the dreich weather, and looking forward to the next day we all meet.

It's the closest I've come to that essential group of collaborators I had in my uni days. A sounding board. A creative conspiracy. A driving force.