A Change of Scenery

Happy Friday the 13th. Watch out for weirdos bearing knives. And chainsaws. And . . .

Listen. I haven't been to a conference in a very long time. I'm not likely to hit a conference for a very long time. Between Covid and cash, me traveling to conferences just isn't likely. So count me out on those. Networking with like-minded authors will have to happen some other way for the foreseeable future.

But writing retreats. Mmmmm. Let's chat about writing retreats. Here's my TLDR:

1. Writing retreats are best done solo.
2. Writing retreats are best done when you're the kind of person who needs a shot of the unfamiliar to jolt you - to put you in beginners mind where you wonder at all the things you've never seen before.
3. Writing retreats are *necessary* if you feel like you are in an environment in your home wherein you cannot fully inhabit your creative self without masking.

Here's my attempt to explain. Aka: The deep dive.

1. Writing retreats - go solo. Unless you are some titan of discipline, going on a writing retreat with other people means no writing will happen. I know going in when someone says 'let's go here and write' that what will actually happen will be lots and lots of talking, lots and lots of eating, and absolutely zero writing. We might talk about writing, but we won't actually put words on paper. The point of a writing retreat, for me, is to isolate long enough to begin hearing my own voice. Not everyone else's. Not my partner's. Not my parents'. Not my boss's. Not even my own set of 'shoulds' that I plague myself with on a daily basis. A retreat needs to present a place where I can exist without any responsibility to any other living thing other than myself for a few days. 

2. A retreat works best for me If there's something new and different to see or experience. A simple change of scenery can work magic. Going somewhere I don't know kicks me out of cognitive ruts and I can come to my stories with new vision. Beginners mind sees everything as if for the first time - without preconceived thoughts or ideas. That allows room for new approaches, if they're wanted.

3. We all wear masks. Most, we wear joyfully: parent, partner, friend, etc. Some are less joyful, but they are the sum of what helps make us acceptable to others. This is basic socialization and there's nothing wrong with acknowledging that we live in community with other humans and should probably strive to work and play well with others. The trouble comes from not having a safe place to unmask. Some of us are lucky enough to be partnered with someone who values who we are when we're not masking. Some of us aren't. Because masking accrues a cost, it can contribute to burn out. So retreats are a lovely option for people who need a safe place to take off all the masks and remember who they are in and of themselves - not who they are as defined by anyone else. This may not be a universal experience. It may be a spectrum thing. Take it if it resonates for you. 

So yes. I love writing retreats. I love wandering off into isolation, to exist in silence for a space of time, speaking only to order food, if I want. I love spending all that silence listening to what's going on inside, writing as fast as I can, uncovering whatever needs to be heard or seen or perceived.  I often pick up new stories on retreats. I hope they can be as fertile for you.