It was actually a women's writing group I belonged to in graduate

“It was actually a women’s writing group I belonged to in graduate school that gave me the courage to move from poetry to fiction.” Thus spoke Mary Gordon, the writer of quiet depth and luminous insight, whose words here reveal a truth as old as human fellowship: that courage is not always born in solitude, but often awakened in the company of others who believe in us. In this remembrance, Gordon pays homage to the sacred power of community — especially a community of women — to kindle the flame of creativity and guide the uncertain toward their true voice.

In this quote, Mary Gordon recalls the moment when her life as an artist turned from verse to story, from the inward melody of poetry to the broad, breathing landscape of fiction. Yet her transformation was not an act of will alone. It was nourished by companionship — by the gathering of women who shared their words, their fears, their hopes. In their presence, she found not judgment, but strength; not rivalry, but renewal. From their circle arose the courage she needed to venture beyond the familiar and embrace the unknown. This is the quiet miracle of creative fellowship: the way that the faith of others restores our faith in ourselves.

The ancients, too, understood this mystery. The philosopher Aristotle wrote that friendship is “one soul dwelling in two bodies.” The poet finds her strength not only in her own heart but in the hearts that surround her — those who listen, encourage, and reflect her worth when she forgets it. Even the greatest minds have drawn courage from kindred spirits. Consider Socrates, who gathered his students in the Athenian agora; or the Sapphic circle on the island of Lesbos, where women poets sang and shared their craft, inspiring one another to reach new heights of expression. Like these gatherings of the past, Gordon’s writing group was a modern hearth of inspiration — a living lineage of souls united by the love of language and the courage to create.

To move from poetry to fiction, as Gordon did, is no small step. It is a leap from the intimate to the expansive, from the distilled emotion of the line to the vast architecture of story. Such a leap requires not only talent, but bravery — the willingness to let one’s imagination inhabit new forms and new worlds. Yet courage often falters in isolation. In doubt, the artist may question the worth of her voice, or the legitimacy of her dreams. But in the company of others — in the warmth of shared vulnerability — that doubt can be transmuted into strength. Gordon’s group gave her permission to try, and in trying, she discovered the boundless reach of her own creative spirit.

The story of Mary Gordon’s awakening reminds us of another — that of Virginia Woolf, who spoke passionately of the necessity for women to support one another in the pursuit of art. Woolf, too, knew that genius cannot grow in a vacuum; it requires both solitude and solidarity. In her own life, the company of the Bloomsbury Group — artists and thinkers who challenged convention — helped her transform her doubts into daring works that still echo through time. So it was with Gordon: her community of women became the soil from which her fiction grew, proving that courage is not a solitary light but a constellation of many shining together.

And yet, Gordon’s reflection is not only about writing — it is about life itself. Each of us, in our own way, stands at thresholds between the known and the unknown, between who we are and who we might become. At those moments, we need the voices of others — not to lead us, but to remind us that we are capable of stepping forward. The power of fellowship, whether among artists, friends, or family, is the power to awaken dormant potential. For as iron sharpens iron, so one soul strengthens another.

Let this, then, be the lesson for those who seek growth and courage: surround yourself with those who uplift you. Seek out communities where your heart feels seen and your dreams are spoken aloud without shame. Do not fear to ask for support, nor to offer it, for courage shared is courage multiplied. And if you are called to create — whether through words, deeds, or dreams — remember that your art, like Gordon’s, may need the warmth of others to truly flourish.

Thus, Mary Gordon’s words become a hymn to human connection: that courage is not merely the act of facing the world alone, but the grace of allowing others to walk beside us. From the fires of such companionship, art is born, purpose is renewed, and life itself grows richer. The poet became a storyteller because others believed in her voice — and through her story, we are reminded that none of us becomes whole alone.