• TWP

Going Hybrid

Here at the TWP we cover a lot of ground - literally, we're open to women from across the wide Tees Valley and beyond. Not only that, but a quarter of our members identify as disabled or chronically ill in some way. So the one thing we want to keep hold of out of this whole stressful, traumatic pandemic mess is - ACCESS!

We're keeping up our commitment to digital access for our core writing workshops and for our free monthly open mic, whilst cautiously opening up for simultaneous in-person attendance. Using a laptop plus an iPad plus a projector, we're making the Room visible to the Zoom and the Zoom visible to the Room. We expect there will be a fair few glitches along the way, but with the help of our venue partners Drake Bookshop (for writing workshops) and Stockton Library (for TWOOMPH! open mic) we hope to keep our real and digital doors open to all the wonderful people who have attended our events from across Teesside, the UK, and indeed the world!

Find out about our events in our brochure for winter here

Here's a little autumnal joy to finish on - a collective poem written in the chat box at our last TWOOMPH! open mic. We hope you enjoy :)

Fleeting, summer then winter. Where did you go, oh Autumn?

Kicking cornflake leaves, on the hill down to the Willows

The night air is just as warm as a blanket -

shines bright like colours in autumn, stuck on my smile -

A last rush to party with complete strangers before winter

Jewelled grass, me- a cliché, pumpkin spiced latte in hand

The season of hugs. Hugs from jumpers, scarfs and mums

Starlings gather, whistle mournful on gutters, swirl in muted murmuration

golden leaves blown down to earth, resting, pulled by gravity.

Breathe white cool morning light, pale red/orange tips begin.

Darkening skies bring Autumn in their wake

Sun burns leaves orange leaves, cool air swirling them to earth.

I make spiced apple pies, made sweeter by shared smiles

Autumn stone’s on the upstroke/ Hammond crack for me almanac

Settling down to watch that gritty drama everyone’s raving about

Knitting needles click again, its nearly time for bed socks.

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