Summer writing retreat: The Sequel

I did not write any journal entries about my writing retreat while I was in the midst of said retreat.

On one hand, this is good. For me, journaling is often an activity that I turn to as a last resort. It's a good distraction/procrastination tool, or a way to express myself when my attempts to do so through fiction or essay or whatever results in failure. In other words, I wasn't feeling the need to journal, because I was scratching my writing itch by actually working on my novel for once.

On the other hand, this means I don't have an in-the-moment record of the experience. And this hurts my ability to recap. Not completely, but I know there are some things that are gonna be lost since I can only discuss my week from a distance. Oh well. If I have to fail at any kind of writing, I suppose blogging is the best option.

Now that I've drafted this disclaimer, onward to reportage!

This trip came about thanks to my good friend/critique partner Stephanie. She is working very, very hard on her third novel, and much like me, is at her best when she can indulge in binge writing sessions. Last August she and I went away to a town called Mt. Carroll (it's in IL, right near the Iowa border) for a self-designed writing retreat, and since we both enjoyed that experience so much, she suggested we try it again in a new location. She did all the research and found a state park in northwest IL (near a town called Oregon) where you can rent lovely little log cabins. The one she ended up reserving had everything we needed: a full kitchen, a nice-sized living/dining room, two bedrooms, one-and-a-half baths, central air-conditioning, and mostly importantly, NO INTERNETS!

The size of the place was such that there was room to include Steph's mom in our adventure. She is not a writer, but was happy to come along to enjoy some quiet time surrounded by nature. And we were happy to have her, because she's a super cool lady! 

We hit the road Sunday afternoon, the car packed to the gills with our luggage, laptops, and foodstuffs. We arrived a little before the dinner hour, and when we checked in at the gift shop, we were delighted to find that they stocked a large variety of handmade truffles. Steph and I realized that we could use these little balls of chocolatey goodness as a writing incentive. If we reached the writing goals we had set for ourselves each day, our reward would be a walk to the gift shop for one truffle apiece. And this way, we'd be able to try a different flavor each day!

With this objective clearly in mind, and room keys in hand, we drove off to find our little cabin. We took some time to put away our groceries and get settled in. While Steph was making dinner (she and I alternated kitchen duty the first four nights, and her mom cooked for us on our final evening) I made some notes about a dialogue exchange in my journal, and tried to mentally prepare for the days to come. I thought about what I wanted to accomplish, and tried to convince myself that I was up to the task. Soon after, we enjoyed a nice dinner, a vintage board game that Steph's mom had brought along called Probe, and a Gilmore Girls mini-marathon. Then it was off to bed for some wine-induced sleep that I hoped would allow me to conk out enough to start my first real writing day fresh as a daisy.

I can't say I was exactly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when I woke on Monday, but I didn't have to lay there long before I was ready to start my day. I was up and around at about 9:30, I ate breakfast, and then I settled in with my laptop. Staring at my big master word document, I felt all the usual fear and insecurity and resistance at first, but I couldn't wallow in that long because my greater concern was meeting my five-page-per day goal. And once I set my mind on that objective everything else fell away,  and I spent the next five or six hours (which included a short break for lunch) hard at work, sinking deep into the world of my story. I heightened images that weren't clear, I hacked away words and moments that were okay, but not necessarily needed, and I expanded the parts of the story that were previously lacking. When all was said and done I had actually exceeded my goal by a page, and though my inner writing demon whispered about how I should apply that extra page to the following day's total, I decided that I was not going to let my overage be an excuse to slack off. For once, I was gonna exceed my own expectations and push my creative self harder than I have in a long time. With that it was time for my truffle walk, followed by dinner, another night of game play, and Gilmore Girls as bedtime stories.

Tuesday through Thursday followed pretty much the same routine. I did occasionally break from my laptop to read, to partake in the writing exercises that Steph and I use when we're trying to develop or refine material, and to take notes about some characters who have yet to be fully fleshed out, but for the most part I manged to stay focused on laying down word after word, sentence after sentence, paragraph after paragraph, page after page. I even managed to keep exceeding my daily page goal, and when all was said and done I had a total of 25 pages. The back half of chapter six. All of chapter seven. And the beginning of chapter eight.

None of those pages are absolutely perfect. But I'm still proud of them, if only because their existence shows that I'm getting better at letting go of my perfectionism. Yeah, I still labor and agonize and edit as I go. But the fact that my novel document is finally growing bigger, the fact that I've advanced well beyond the first chapter, the fact that I'm on the verge of having a grand total of 100 revised pages that I don't want to shred and burn, shows tremendous progress on my part.

Honestly, I can't remember the last time I've felt so immersed in my material. There were even a couple of evenings after the writing was done when it felt odd and disorienting to re-engage with the real world. At first I thought I was just tired, but now that I look back I think my brain was legit stuck in the Running the Ropes universe.

Having hit such a sweet spot, writing-wise, you can't even begin to imagine how hard it was to pack everything and head back to Chicago Friday morning. Not only was I saying goodbye to a place that allowed me to get over myself and all my creative hangups, but I was leaving behind a fantasy existence. One that included tasty, healthy food, excellent company, quiet nature walks, an entire season of Gilmore Girls, a sleep schedule that actually suits me, truffles, and a large parrot named Max.

Like how I just slipped that last one in there? Yeah, Max was the gift shop parrot. He was large and colorful and kept in a cage tucked off in a corner near a shelf crammed with homemade jams and preserves. Each day, when I'd enter the shop to purchase my reward truffle, he would greet me with a big, boisterous, "Hello!" I felt bad that he had to be all cooped up like that, but the cage was large and he seemed well cared for and the confinement certainly didn't put a damper on his mood.

Needless to say, he delighted me to no end. And much like the truffles, his presence added a mystery ingredient to our retreat.

I'm gonna miss him. Really I'm gonna miss this whole trip.

But I suppose the return to reality was inevitable.

Stupid reality.