IWSG February 2026

 Welcome readers, writers, authors, and bloggers!

We're glad you're here! It's the First Wednesday of the month; when we celebrate IWSG Day in the form of a blog hop featuring members and guests of the Insecure Writer's Support Group. Founded by author Alex Cavanaugh (Thank you, Captain!) and fostered by like-minded associates, IWSG is a comfortable place to share views and literary news as we record our journeys. Check out our monthly newsletter here.

The awesome co-hosts for this month’s posting of the IWSG are:   J Lenni Dorner, Victoria Marie Lees, and Sandra Cox!

 Today’s entirely optional question:    Many writers have written about the experience of rereading their work years later. Have you reread any of your early works? What was that experience like for you?

Have I reread any of my early works? Absolutely! Though, not often. Until recently, I began selecting stories for a children's collection and was pleasantly reminded of how attached I ended up getting to the younger characters as they grew and flourished in the stories I wrote. In some cases, it’s been somewhat of a homecoming. Still others I’ve reviewed (admittedly) left me wondering what the heck I was thinking😉 (Not a children’s story😊)

For the most part, rereading is exhilarating. Motivational, even. Especially when I’m effortlessly transported back into a story that greets me like an old friend. Hanky’s got a few new notes in her Hatbox, indicating the story can indeed go on. It seems the Otters have learned a new routine for entertaining the encroaching Beavers at Wet Bottom Crossing down at Wiggle River, and then there was this crumpled note tossed in the idea box as if by accident:

One scorching- hot summer day when you couldn’t tell the heat waves from sweat dripping in your eyes, there came a turquoise excavator to help us build a pond in the dusty old field out back. But Cotton’s place had a reproachful past that seemed bound to affect uncertain futures like ours.

Oh, the gum-smacking lady driver with hot pink lipstick meant well. In fact, she didn’t even know what she’d dug up when my dad started frantically waving his arms to stop the digging, and my mom fainted right there in the dirt.

But I should start at the beginning.     * * *

I may revisit Cotton’s Place again real soon. As well as half a dozen other stories 😉

I look forward to reading about your experiences. I’ll have just enough time to hop around and visit before I’ll need to rest my eyes for a while. Hope to see you all in April!

Happy writing!