Retreat Retreating Retreated. Why I Love Writing Retreats

This retreat felt different.

It is a place I know--"The Barn" at Boyd's Mill, a retreat facility run by the Highlights Foundation. This was my fourth time retreating with them, and let me tell you, these people are experts.

I am something of an expert now myself on what makes a perfect retreat, and I think what it comes down to is a blend of

• setting (remote countryside/woods in Eastern Pennsylvania) 
• characters (writers)
• plot (extended, unstructured time to write)

Oh, and

• food. In this case, chef-prepared meals, three times a day. Appetizers and wine at night. All you can eat snacks. (I am a sucker for Twizzlers and somehow, they know that.) 

Woods. OMG Do you see a bear?

For this retreat, I'd signed up for what they call an "unworkshop." You get to use the facilities, eat the food, and chat it up with whatever writers happen to be hanging out at the same time.

I was looking forward to the quiet. The walks in the woods. Making real progress on a new manuscript.


I didn't get as much quiet as I'd planned.

There happened to be tons of other writers unworkshopping, as well as a more formal novel writing workshop going on. I know a lot of these people, some in real life (I carpooled to Boyd's Mill with my writer friend Natalie D. Richards) and some from online. The YA book world isn't very large and many of us have bumped into each other at a conference or book signing or virtually bumped into each other on social media. These people are my friends, and I wanted to chat with them-- instead of holing myself up in a quiet cabin and writing.

Someone saw a bear when she was walking in the woods!! So, uh, that put a slight damper on  my wanting to take walks alone goal. I did, one day, take the risk and hiked out into the woods, live tweeting that "event" in case a bear happened to attack me... and I guess a twitter follower might notify the authorities of my death by bear mauling?

And I took lots of walks with other writers. We had conversations that ranged from, oh my God did you hear that? Is that a bear? To working out plot holes in our stories. To freezing and pointing into the dark underbrush at--oh my GOD--do you think that was a bear?

I ate too much food.

It's an issue I have. Throw food at me, particularly gourmet food, food that I do not have to prepare myself, and I will eat it. Also, if you throw wine at me, I will drink it. Luckily, Highlights had purchased lots of wine for me.

I mean, for us.

One day I did the 7 AM yoga. Lately, I get up extremely early. Boom. Six AM and I am snapping awake for no good reason and often I will ponder about that. WHY am I waking up so damn early?? I will think. And why did I not have this particular skill in years past when my kids were young and I was cursing the dawn (and them) and blearily waking to feed them and praying that I could lie back down while they were engrossed in Scooby Doo episodes?

But I digress.

Yoga. It was fun. Just me and one other early riser.

I felt very virtuous that morning and rewarded myself by eating several extra slices of bacon.

The talks we retreat-goers had a dinner were illuminating. Stuff about the writing process and what we are working on and struggling with and excited about. But also stuff about finding balance between writing and life. Spouses. Kids. Book promotion. The Publishing Business.

I don't know how I would've felt about conversations like this on my first retreat. Back then, I was just trying to break in. Publishing was an impenetrable wall and I had no idea how to scale it. Now I'm on the other side.

First lesson: there are more walls.

Most of the people on this retreat have at least one book out. Some have many. One morning the topic veered to money. Specifically: How Do You Make a Living Writing Books When the Reality Is That It's Nearly Impossible To Make a Living Writing Books?

The answer? You do what you can. Teach (like the writers who were facilitating the novel writing workshop). Critique manuscripts. Write in other genres (a popular moneymaking venture, apparently, is writing erotica under a pen name).

Most of the writers have non-writing jobs.

When I wasn't chatting or trekking through bear country or eating, I was writing. The Barn has a loft--a place I'd discovered the last time I was there--and I claimed it for myself again, spreading out my papers and laptop and Twizzlers and tapping away during the afternoons.

My big goal was to input a first draft into a new Scrivener document, but I wasn't quite sure how to set that up and in a moment of pure serendipity, I discovered that one of the other writers teaches classes on using Scrivener, and she got me all squared away. So, HA!

That alone was worth the price of admission.

That and the bacon. And the never-seen-by-me bear.

I am thinking that bear may have been made up. It was a writer, after all, who claimed to have seen it.

portrait of a writer on retreat

Take this Job

Happy to announce that I am already making headway on one of my resolutions this year: Number Two, “earn money.” The job also met all of my criteria (there was no running around like a maniac or catering to needy people or leaving my house or changing out of my bathrobe). A friend of mine who heard about my plight to earn money and who runs a freelance editorial business, asked me if I’d like a job proofreading an article. Oh, I could so do that, I thought (picturing myself in my bathrobe reading an interesting article). I got the bathrobe-wearing part right. The interesting part, not so much. (Although, I will stress here that what my friend does for living is pretty interesting) It was the actual article that stumped me. Apparently it was written for a scientific journal on a topic that had something do with engineering? Or computers? Or maybe math? I know it may seem strange that I don’t know what the subject was of an article I “read.” But there you have it. I wish I could quote a line or two to give you a taste of it but I’m afraid I might choose something in the engineering and/or computer and/or math field that would give away the possibly ground-breaking analysis.

Here’s what I did get out of this job: 1. a new appreciation for the English language and wonderment that I could catch punctuation and grammatical errors even though I literally had no idea what I was reading; 2. a little bit of money.

The money, I’m not scoffing at. It was the first money I’ve earned in four years. The check’s displayed on the refrigerator now so I can daydream about the possibilities for spending it. Take the hubby out for lunch? Buy a couple of books? Get half my hair colored? Deposit it in son’s college account to chip away at the new car sized bill? Ah, the possibilities are endless.

Earning money (no matter how paltry a sum) after such a long time does feel good and it got me thinking about other ways I’ve made money over the years.

My very first job was working at this restaurant in the mall called York’s Steakhouse. The manager tried me out in several different positions—as a hostess, on the line dumping salad dressing on salads, and finally at the meat station, where at last I found my true calling. The restaurant was set up so customers would take a tray, give their order to the order-taker, then make their way down a line getting the components of their meal until they made it to the end and paid. The meat station was last and most important because the person running it had to call out steak orders to the cooks but if the customer had ordered chicken, the meat person had to pull whole chickens off the rotating heated rack and cut them in half in one swoop of a knife cut. It was crucial that this was done in one swoop, the manger told me, and I had to practice with the knife, slicing down between the bones on the chicken’s back so it would fall into two equal hunks. Turns out I had a talent for this. Also I had a good French accent; strange because I never took French and also strange that the restaurant made the meat person call out orders in French. I don’t remember any phrases except for something like “sala-ma-jay,” which means allegedly, “in the dining room.”

I still think of my time at York Steakhouse fondly, by which I mean that I do not think of it fondly. It set me on a track of other fun restaurant jobs:

1. a two-week stint at a bad pizza place (I put my two-weeks' notice in on the first day.)

2. a two-year stint at another of those food tray restaurants, Ponderosa, where I did every job at one time or another except operate the dishwasher (Girls weren’t allowed).

3. a dismal run at Perkins, a job I still have nightmares about (In the dream the sociopathic hostess continually seats customers in my section and I can’t get water out to them fast enough. That was the rule: give customers water.) At Perkins I learned that the after-church evangelical crowd is very big on handing out religious tracts instead of actual money as tips; how GENEROUS of them!

4. a crazy summer at TGI Fridays where I ran around in a short skirt and collected flair for my suspenders. (One skill I learned at Fridays that has stuck with me: how to balance four large beverage glasses in the palm of one hand.)

I’m happy to report that my job history includes more than food service. I also worked at a bookstore; manned the jewelry counter at a department store (Odd, because I really don’t like jewelry.); and worked as a legal secretary at a law office before the use of computers was widespread (I remember typing out forms in triplicate on a typewriter, bottles of different colored “white” out at the ready.)

Some cool jobs:

1. editorial intern at Memphis Magazine (I got to fact-check the article on the 100 Prominent Memphians. For that I spoke to Al Green. And the school superintendent who later became the mayor who later, apparently, went insane. Also Fred Smith (the guy who started Fed-ex)'s secretary.

2. managing editor at Memphis State’s literary magazine. (I got to read a lot of bad writing submissions and send out form rejection letters. Ah, Karma.)

3. English teacher at a public high school (Go Kirby Wildcats!!) and English teacher at an all-girls college prep school (go lady Hutchisons!) and teacher of gifted and talented students at an awesome performing arts school in Lexington, Kentucky. (This was such a great job and such a great place, I probably never would’ve left, except we moved.)

For the last four years I have been concentrating solely on writing. For the record, I did make some money selling a handful of short stories. Gratifying, but very little in the ultimate scheme of things. (Just did the calculation and it works out to roughly 400 dollars a year over 12 years.)

Not much but it sure beats stabbing chickens.

92 Books and 2 Resolutions

Last year one of my New Year’s resolutions was to record every book I read. In my family we’re BIG on resolutions. We’ve been celebrating New Year’s with the same good friends for the past 12 years, and every year we go around the room, kids included now that they’re older, and share them with each other. The most organized among us, cheerful Deb, writes everything down and then holds us to our promises the next year. The secret of success, I’ve learned, is to keep the resolutions measurable and not too lofty. One year, for example, I resolved to wash my face every night. In fairness I was a young harried mom at the time and that lame goal actually seemed like a stretch. (For the record, I did it.)

This year I have two resolutions. Deb has recorded them, of course, but I’d like my faithful blog readers to hold me to them as well.

1. No more blathery (whiney) talk about book deals (My husband’s suggestion after reading this, and this, and this. Enough, he said. Write about other stuff.) Okay. Okay. I promise. Unless I actually get a book deal. And then all bets are off, sweetie.

2. Earn money. (Also my husband’s suggestion.) The trouble is I’m not qualified for many jobs, unless you count waiting tables or teaching high school English (which, interestingly enough, are suspiciously similar jobs). For the moment I’m holding out for the kind of job where you don’t have to run around like a maniac, catering cheerfully to needy customers/students. Or leave your house. Or change out of your bathrobe before 3 pm. Anyone who has a position that fits this bill, please let me know.

Anyway, last year I dutifully recorded every book I read (not including the books I started and did not finish). I’ll list them mainly for my own amusement, in the order that I read them, with a note on genre and links for those I reviewed in case you’re looking for a good read for you (or for a teen in your life).

1. The Nobodies Album by Carolyn Parkhurst, adult fiction

2. Waves by Susan Casey, adult nonfiction

3. New Boy by Julian Houston, YA historical fiction

4. Mockingbird by Kathryn Erskine, middle grade fiction (won the 2010 National Book Award and deservedly so)

5. Summer at Tiffany by Marjorie Hart, adult memoir

6. A Visit from the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan, 2011 Pulitzer Prize winner (also deservedly so)

7. What I Saw and How I Lied by Judy Blundell, YA historical fiction

8. If I Stay by Gayle Forman, YA fiction

9. Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead, YA paranormal romance

10. Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver, YA fiction

11. Across the Universe by Beth Revis, YA Sci-Fi

12. Vampire Academy 2—Frostbite by Richelle Mead, YA paranormal

13. War of Art by Steven Pressfield, non-fiction inspirational writing how-to

14. Vampire Academy 3—Shadow Kiss by Richelle Mead, YA paranormal

15. Vampire Academy 4—Blood Promise (yes. I was hooked on these)

16. Vampire Academy 5—Spirit Bound (ditto)

17. Vampire Academy 6—Last Sacrifice (sigh)

18. Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins, YA fiction

19. The Invisible Bridge by Julie Orringer, adult historical fiction

20. Revolution by Jennifer Donnelly, YA fiction

21. Unless It Moves the Human Heart by Roger Rosenblatt, inspirational non-fiction about writing and teaching

22. Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner, adult fiction

23. Bruiser by Neil Shusterman, YA fiction

24. The Splendor Falls by Rosemary Clement-Wells, YA paranormal romance

25. Where She Went, by Gayle Forman, YA fiction (sequel to If I Stay)

26. The Magician’s Assistant by Ann Patchett, adult fiction

27. Faithful by Janet Fox, YA romance

28. Impossible by Nancy Werlin, YA fiction

29. Dash and Lily’s Book of Dares by Sarah Cohen and David Leviathan, YA fiction

30. Stay by Deb Caletti, YA fiction

31. Everlost by Neil Shusterman, YA fiction

32. Delirium by Lauren Oliver, YA dystopian

33. The Paris Wife by Paula McLain, adult historical fiction

34. Lark by Tracey Porter, YA fiction

35. Forgotten by Cat Patrick, YA paranormal

36. On Beauty by Zadie Smith, adult fiction

37. The Wednesday Wars by Gary Schmidt, middle grade fiction

38. Shine by Lauren Myracle, YA fiction

39. Let’s Take the Long Way Home by Gail Caldwell, adult memoir

40. Evidence of Things Unseen by Marianne Wiggins, adult fiction

41. The Sky is Everywhere by Jandy Nelson, YA fiction

42. Tiger’s Curse by Colleen Houck, YA paranormal romance

43. The Beginning of After by Jennifer Castle, YA fiction

44. Dark Inside by Jeyn Roberts, YA dystopian

45. Possessed by Gretchen McNeil, YA paranormal

46. Mennonite in a Little Black Dress by Rhoda Janzen, adult memoir

47. Lola and the Boy Next Door by Stephanie Perkins, YA fiction

48. Fury by Elizabeth Miles, YA paranormal

49. This Is Not the Story You Think It Is by Laura Munson, adult memoir

50. Ashfall by Mike Mullin, YA dystopian

51. We’ll Always Have Summer by Jenny Han, YA fiction

52. Crossed by Ally Condie, YA dystopian

53. How To Save a Life by Sara Zarr, YA fiction

54. The Other Boleyn Girl by Phillipa Gregory, adult historical fiction

55. Perfect by Ellen Hopkins, YA fiction

56. The Space Between the Trees by Katie Williams, YA fiction

57. My Teenage Beating Heart by CK Kelly Martin, YA paranormal

58. The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender, adult fiction

59. Imaginary Girls by Nova Ren Suma, YA paranormal

60. Brooklyn Burning by Steve Brezenoff, YA fiction

61. Juliet Immortal by Stacey Jay, YA paranormal

62. The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin, YA paranormal

63. All These Things I’ve Done by Gabrielle Zevin, YA fiction

64. Bluefish by Pat Schmatz, middle grade fiction

65. Dark Souls by Paula Morris, YA paranormal

66. The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver, adult historical fiction

67. The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau Banks by E. Lockhart, YA fiction

68. Ashes by Ilsa Bick, YA dystopian

69. Two Way Street by Lauren Barnholdt, YA romance

70. Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder, adult biography

71. The Help by Kathryn Stockett, adult historical fiction

72. Virtuosity by Jessica Martinez, YA fiction

73. Reasons To Be Happy by Katrina Kittle, YA fiction

74. The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater, YA fiction

75. The Shack by William P. Young, adult fiction

76. Breadcrumbs by Anne Ursu, middle grade fiction

77. Incarnate by Jodi Meadows, YA fiction

78. Wanderlove by Kirsten Hubbard, YA fiction

79. After the Snow by SD Crockett, YA dystopian

80. Someone Else’s Life by Katie Dale, YA fiction

81. The Book of Blood and Shadow by Robin Wasserman, YA paranormal

82. Where Things Come Back by John Corey Whaley, YA fiction

83. Fracture by Megan Miranda, YA paranormal

84. The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot, adult non-fiction

85. Breaking Beautiful by Jennifer Shaw Wolf, YA fiction

86. The Night She Disappeared by April Henry, YA fiction

87. The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth, YA fiction

88. Cinder by Marissa Meyer, YA sci fi

89. The Dark of the Moon by Tracy Barrett, YA fiction

90. The Writing Life by Annie Dillard, adult writing how-to

91. Zero by Tom Leveen, YA fiction

92. The Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother by Amy Chua, adult memoir

Not Just Sitting Around Eating Bon-Bons

One of the best things I ever got out of attending a writing workshop was a new friend. It was July 2008 at the amazingly inspirational and life-changing Children’s Writing Conference at Chautauqua and I was pretty much at a crossroads in my writing life. Did I want to keep writing for children? was one of the many questions I had going into it. That conference is on the expensive side and it was hard to justify spending money like that on myself, specifically on a hobby that didn’t seem to be going anywhere in the career sense.

I clicked with a lot of people that week, some just dipping a toe into the writing pool and others already treading water on the deep end. I was searching for a person somewhere in the middle, maybe one who was ready to pull off the floaties and dunk her head under. I found her waiting in line at a porta-potty. Donna was an aspiring picture book writer, and she had a couple of novels under her belt too and they sounded interesting to me. We had a few things in common. Kids sort of the same age. (But she has four!) We’d both been English teachers, and we were spending our child-raising years as uber-PTA volunteers. We nervously exchanged manuscripts that day.

I say nervously because there is always this element of fear when you first look at someone’s writing (and know she is evaluating yours too). The biggest worry is that you won’t like it and how will you tell her without hurting her feelings? Ideally, you’d both be at a similar level and looking for the same kind feedback. Up to this point I'd never found someone like that, so I wasn’t holding my breath.

But, whew. What Donna wrote was pretty darned good and apparently she thought my stuff was worthwhile too. After the conference we started emailing each other and this correspondence quickly turned into a twice daily check-in. Every morning we email each other our goals for the day and every afternoon we write what we call our "accountability." At the end of the year I scrolled through all those emails and found that they were a record of Donna's and my writing journey and our friendship. There are our goals, of course, but also snippets of daily life, books we’ve read and errands we’ve run. Stuff we make for dinner. Funny and/or annoying things are kids and hubbies do.

Once Donna wrote that a friend of hers wondered what she did all day at home. The implication was that Donna must be sitting around eating bon-bons. She certainly wasn’t out working. Or cleaning her house. That accusation became a joke to us. Yes, we were sitting around eating bon-bons all day. That’s what writers do. For a Christmas present that year I compiled all of our emails and had them printed and bound on one of those self-published book sites. I titled the book Sitting Around Eating Bon-Bons and even used a picture of bon-bons for the cover art.

Now it’s an annual tradition, that correspondence book. I’m editing Book Three this week and it’s inspiring to see how far Donna and I have come since we met. I can’t count how many times we’ve talked each other out of quitting. And when one of us has any kind of success, the other feels it just as much, if not more so. Writing can be such a lonely activity. Also frustrating and exciting and heartbreaking and amazing. It’s a million times better when you have another person to share the journey with. All I can say is thank goodness Donna and I had the same inclination to head for the porta-potty when we did.