Group member, Jessica says, "For anyone looking for mentoring, creative inspiration, and estrogen, this is it. There's no pretense here. Each meeting is flavored like a different dish depending on who shows up." She adds, "The best part is that this isn't the typical expat women's group where everyone sits around bitching and ranting. These are women you would seek out no matter where you live. They make a difference in their lives by doing something and by having a creative point of view... Kudos to Chloe for continuing to provide an outlet for the muse."

Another member, Diane from Canada, says, "The Bangkok Women's Writing Group is an amazing venue in which to share our writings - some of them emotional and personal - in a non-threatening, caring, respectful, and open environment.

It's like wearing my soul on my sleeve, but because the women make me feel warm and welcome, it's a joy.I've learned an incredible amount from these women who come from so many countries and backgrounds. Before I joined, I didn't have many female friends in Bangkok. Most of my colleagues are men, so finding these women was refreshing. My mind and my soul feel lighter and clearer each time we meet. "

The meeting tonight commences with each woman introducing herself and telling the group how she ended up in Bangkok. Cyndee from Manitoba, Canada goes first,"After I finished my teaching degree, I got off the farm(group laughter)and headed for Bangkok and beyond. Im here tonight because I like to write." And so on as we circle around the room and each woman tells her story.

Nova Scotia native, Lois, reads a poem about "home"

The author is a former medical student who one day realized that a doctor was not what she wanted to be and Canada not where she wanted to live. The following Sunday night, I bumped into Lois at O'Reilly's Pub. Her Japanese boyfriend plays main fiddle in the Irish band at the popular Silom bar every Sunday night, while Lois leaps, arms crossed behind her back, legs ablur, feet rapidly kicking the floor and propelling her into the air. She learned the Irish jig on her native island and has found a home for it in Bangkok.

One of the women in the group crouches in the furthest, darkest recess of the couch. Chloe asks Ani if she has brought something to read. The young Englishwoman stammers, "Oh I don't know. I brought a few pieces, but they are mostly rubbish."  The group begs, and she relents, but is too shy to read, so hands them off for someone else to read aloud.

Another member of the group, Cyndee, a Canadian with a soft, pale air, is a master of  locution-words leaving her mouth take on a life of their own.

One moment Cyndee is wistful dreamer, the next, a tiger with a roar. I was not surprised when I saw Cyndee at About Cafe the following evening. (Even in major cities like Bangkok, expats tend to gather in the same places.) At the poetry reading, video art,  music, movement, and words intertwined in a space cumbrous with creative energy and cigarette smoke.