Making A Writing Retreat
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} catch(err) {}Since it is not always possible to secure a wonderful retreat at some place like Norcroft or Soapstone (one place I’ve been, the other I’ve applied to), I often make my own writing retreats. That means securing a place of seclusion to write for at least 3 days and preferably 5-10. I’ve rented cabins, stayed in hotel rooms, and housesat for friends in order to secure the necessary seclusion.
This past week, I rented a cabin in the High Sierra for 5 days to work on the Right Sisters. I packed food, my lap top, a few sweatshirts for cooler nights and left home for the cabin. This retreat did not turn out to be the Walden adventure I envisioned when planning it, i.e quiet all but wind in the pines, musky scent of hot decaying forest earth, simple living in a sparsely furnished Forest Service cabin.
Instead I faced
- a generator that ran 24 hours a day blocking the noises of nature (necessary for electricity);
- the pungent odor of a skunk wafting intermittently through the cabin floor from an abandoned nest under the cabin;
- a floor so slanted that my computer tilted on the little kitchen table where I sat to work;
- a noisy critter that visited every night biting into anything edible that I left out (see banana picture) and waking me 4-5 times a night with his raucous presence.
The good news is that despite the sensual assaults and strange discomforts, I got tons of work done. Perhaps it is true that a little suffering is good for the work.
Still I recommend a little more investigation regarding the space you choose to stay when making your own writing retreat! Anyone have suggestions for us writers looking to retreat?
Last week I spent four days writing in a motel room. The opportunity for deeply focused work is certainly a luxury I can’t afford very often, either in terms of time or money. But I’m committed to finding ways to retreat so that I can write.
A retreat needs to be a minimum of 3 days and preferably a week. My longest retreat was a month, and I’ve also enjoyed 10 day and 2 week long retreats. Focused writing allows me to delve into the core of my subject matter.
There were times last week when I looked up from the computer screen and did not know where I was. I wrote from 6:30am until 10pm each day, stopping for brief respites called for by my shoulders and bottom. I’d circle the small flower garden at the center of the motel or walk toward the beach in the damp fog with the voices of my characters still conversing in my head. Almost without knowing, I’d turned back toward Room 125, unable to stay away long.
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I believe a retreat supports my relationship to the writing process. When I was teaching, I talked to my students about 3 stages in the process: creating, composing, and revision.
Creating is the messiest stage. My mind leaps here and there, thinking about my subject while bathing, driving, clearing dishes, and in the fertile place between wakefulness and sleep. I scribble notes and freewrite; I read about the topic and suddenly see relevance everywhere. But the creation remains a jumbled mess.
Composing is the hardest part for me–taking the mess to the page, crafting a shape and making meaning. This is the part of the process that is best served by a retreat. For me, composing anything worthwhile requires an extended period of time, ideally several days. Usually, I can only muster a stretch of several hours.
Revision is my favorite part. I love playing with the piece that has arrived on the page. Suddenly it is obvious where big changes and additions are needed. Tinkering with the smaller stuff like word choice and detail is pure delight. Revision is something I can do in small snatches of time, a half hour in the morning before work or sitting with a hard copy of the piece in a waiting room or during a boring meeting.
My relationship to the process never wavers. I recognize that I need to retreat to compose, something that is not necessarily easy to accomplish and so always feels like a gift. 
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