After a 1990 course at the New School in New York City, Writing Science Fiction and Fantasy, taught by professional science fiction editor Shawna McCarthy, two-thirds of the original class decided to keep meeting after the course ended, focusing on genre fiction, including fantasy, science fiction, and horror. CITH stands for Circles in the Hair, a name settled on after lengthy debate. The group had batted around a list of about a hundred names; one day, member Gerard Houarner brought in a story about crop circles growing in a man's hair. Over post-critique drinks the title took on greater significance as a possible group name. Circles in the Hair was born.

The group's composition of roughly fifteen members has changed somewhat over the decade, but approximately half of the original students are still members. Successive members came from other workshops, or through the recommendation of teachers or CITH members themselves. A mix of men and women of different races, writing styles, genres and levels of experience combine for an interesting and enlightening group experience. CITHians hold down day jobs as computer programmers, teachers, librarians, editors, rehab counselors, court clerks, tour guides, business consultants, technical writers, and Web page designers; only one is a full-time paid writer/editor. A healthy sense of humor serves the group well in navigating their differences.

The writers followed the structure of the New School class, but only met half as often: biweekly ("long enough not to get sick of each other, frequent enough to make a difference," says a CITH member). Each session includes a short critique from each member, with the author not allowed to speak until the end. Dinner and drinks at a local restaurant follow every session.

"The dinner is really important," confides a CITHian. "Otherwise, you walk in there, get demolished, and go home not knowing anything about your fellow writers except their literary opinions. Having dinner after critiques helps everyone relax, rejoin the others, and get to know them on a friendly basis. We're all writers, all getting rejections and going through mutual hell. After eleven years, these people are not only my best critics, but some of my best friends."

I joined CITH after a friend, Gordon Linzner, who edits and publishes the small press magazine Space & Time recommended them. We had been in another writer’s group that had fallen apart because of an unstructured, disrespectful, near free-for-all environment. After I left that group, I found many a nose turned up when I told fellow writers, editors and teachers I write horror and erotic horror. I sought open-minded people who read and write genre material and critique with a professional attitude.

No sign of genre snobbery, CITH welcomed me. Though set up for genre fiction, CITH's output is diverse: updated and twisted fairy tales, fantasy, science fiction poetry, historical fiction in an ancient setting, "literary" science fiction, mystery, media tie-ins such as Star Trek and Buffy, a gothic historical vampire saga, horror, erotica and the just plain weird and indefinable.

When I joined CITH, only two writers had published novels, and a few had had some short stories published. After six years, not one member remained unpublished, regardless of his or her original level. Some of the places stories by CITHians have appeared in are Asimov's, Space & Time, The Urbanite, Pulp Eternity, the Hot Blood anthology, Dark Matter, Lore, and Britain's Nasty Piece of Work. Online published credits include Chiaroscuro's short story contest, gothic.net, Delirium webzine, Twilight Tales, and others.

Along the way, CITH has dealt with the occasional errant member. Pettiness or mean-spiritedness are not tolerated. An ex-member who said a story "sucked" was told "we don't do that here." Instead, the group critiques the specifics: plot, characterization, pacing, style, and even grammar, if necessary. Respect and a professional atmosphere are vital; professional defined by attitude, not day-job status.

"When we began," one member recounts, "my idea of a good critique was a sort of negative eloquence. Later I realized the best critiques don't showcase the critiquer's aesthetic sense, they address what would improve the work in question. If it isn't helpful to the writer, it's not a good critique." Only twice have members been so disruptive to the group atmosphere (singling out another member, giving abusive critiques, or, in one memorable case, harassing others by telephone), that they were asked to leave.

CITHians must also be professional about accepting criticism. Some sojourns in the group have been shortened by hurt feelings or inflexibility. Another member recalls: "We used to give our opinions on one writer's work, and he'd look injured afterward: 'What do you mean? You can't think that; I didn't write it that way!' He seemed genuinely puzzled. That guy didn't last very long."

CITH has been lucky in terms of group dynamics. For all their diversity, the members are uniformly self-disciplined, and there are no written rules or critique schedules. Most of the time nothing more is needed to keep creativity moving along at a respectable clip than the company of the group. At times the group synchronicity is akin to therapy. Sitting in a circle, watching others’ faces and listening or speaking on the subject at hand gives something to everyone. The exchange of ideas, even when it is not your story being discussed, can be electric, even magical, as topics percolate or merge to form something entirely different than was originally conceived. Occasionally the output of the group will lag and no one will bring in a story. Then it’s time for the boot applied to butt method.

"OK, nobody has anything? Let's do an assignment," Linda Addison will say with an exaggerated sigh. CITHians toss out suggestions: "What would an alien bathroom look like?" "How about a story containing the sentence 'I always feel drunk when I do this'?" "Let's write one with a character who lives in a jar." One "assignment", to write a complete story on an index card, yielded so many good results that CITH self-published a chapbook of them. Most of the stories were also published separately in the small press.

CITH members also bring outside experiences back to the group. Several members took another speculative fiction writing course and heartily recommended the teacher, author Nancy Kress. Kress agreed to give a personalized, intensive weekend workshop for CITH members only, who chipped in for her honorarium. This experience went beyond a kick in the butt. It was a jump-start to the brain. In addition to what CITH took away from the workshop, the group now regards Kress as a sort of communal mentor.

Over the years, this sharing of resources and experiences has knit the group closely, and avoided some of the professional jealousy and hoarding that less fortunate groups succumb to. Faith Justice was the first to make a database of genre markets for the group, which she distributes regularly to group members at no charge. CITHians share details of their acceptances as well as rejections, market newsletters, anthologies and magazines they're involved in, experiences with editors, and even personal connections vital to the networking process.

Adding spice to group dynamics are the parties. CITH throws at least four major parties annually, to which CITHians and their intimates are invited. In summer, there's a Shakespeare party, in which members, unrehearsed, read out loud a play by the Bard, costumes and silliness encouraged. There are Halloween and Christmas parties. The most lavish is a late-spring cookout at the Bronx home two of the members (who met in CITH) share. At that event, CITH joins with family and friends for an all-day party complete with favors like alien-head lollipops, temporary tattoos, miniature plastic monsters, and Jell-O in a brain-shaped mold. In recent years (after one member acquired a katana) a ritual sacrifice has been instituted: a hollow chocolate rabbit saved from Easter is filled with strawberry jam and then, amid much cheering, hacked open. (Did I mention CITHians are a warped bunch?) Stories are read, though not critiqued, at all parties, alcohol and conviviality guarding against literary overseriousness.