Writing Retreat

[spryng]

A little less than a year ago, eight writers decided to gather in one place come mid-November and have a little writing retreat. Two had other things pop up, but six actually showed, and they had a great time, actually.

I mentioned before I was a bit nervous about actually having time to write because what if it just proved I couldn't anymore? And honestly, it did... and it didn't. I definitely still have some ingrained habits from being a mom that made it hard to just sit and write. I worried about them, felt guilty at times, and let both overwhelm me. Turns out, it's impossible to just turn that off for a weekend, even when I have the blessing of my wife.

But... it wasn't just about writing. This weekend was also about the other important things that feed into writing. I got to run every morning without worrying someone would wake up before I got back, I got to make my own breakfast without first making breakfast for two others, eat good food without thinking about which kid I would share it with and whether they would eat any of it, talk and listen at length without being interrupted by someone who was so bored, mom, got to play games that I would normally have missed because I was putting someone to bed.

This was the first time I've actually been able to replicate the pre-parent life, and it was great, and 100% refreshing, and also... I almost asked to be picked up early yesterday because I missed my kids so much.

Anyway, kids and parenting guilt aside, just being around other writers who are serious about their craft (and good at it) was such a balm. I may have been the only one in the room without any publishing prospects at the moment, but they never made me feel like it. And even when we went to the local B&N and my books were the only ones not out on the shelves (which I expected, but oof -- still hurts, surprise!), they made sure I was included in pics and the manager know I was an author, too (he ordered my books while I was there, even though I don't live there, and it was just sweet of him, even though I also feel bad because they won't sell).

I thought I'd come out of this feeling even more dejected and fake, but instead I have the desire to keep trying. Publishing is fucking insane sometimes, but the people are amazing. The first time I felt like I'd found a place I belonged was when I went to New College as a fresh-faced adult. The second time was when I got an agent and started making writer friends. This is where I want to be, these are the people I want to be with, even if the rest of it is enough to make you go mad and question every life choice that brought you there.

So. Yeah. Maybe I didn't write as much as I'd hoped, maybe I didn't have the breakthrough on this WIP that I desperately needed, maybe I couldn't shut off parent!brain... but I have hope again, and drive, and desire.

I'd call that a success.

Comments

[dreamsrundeep]

Seasons. You are in the thick of it with the littles. I don't think I had the attention span to *read*, much less write anything until my kids were both in kindergarten. It does get easier every year as they build self-sufficiency. They will ALWAYS need you at the most inopportune times, but you'll be able to tell them where their socks are instead of get up, get them, put them on, and then try to get back to what you were doing before they interrupted you. <3 Don't forget that feeling because one day you will get to know and see yourself again after these hectic little-kid years!