You'd think.
However, the purpose of the retreat was not just to write but to switch gears. Having completed a 5 month teaching term, I needed to come back to the centre, find my own self before I ventured into the writing room in my head. Granted, I can go visit anytime and I do. But getting in there and working requires some prep work. Just like my physical office, my mental writing room needs to be tidy. Which is why I can't write and teach at the same time. Too many kids in the room.
So, I know I need that transition time but for me, it's easier in theory than practice. When I have the luxurious gift of time to dedicate just to writing, I have a tendency to put high expectations on myself. There will be no lolly-gagging and certainly no gallivanting. There will be discipline and a routine that will be followed by everyone at the writing retreat.
I guess this would be the place to introduce Doug, my companion and colleague for this event.
Now Doug has a slightly different view of such things. Of all things, actually, as he has only one eye. I found Doug to be very open to most of my suggestions. In theory.
This was Doug's response to my Opening Day of the Retreat lecture, titled, "We will all sleep in our own beds":
Come to think of it, I gave the same address at my last house-sit/writing retreat and got the following response:
Anyway, despite a few differing opinions that had to be worked out, I soon came to appreciate Doug's wisdom and it was he who saved me from spinning like a top and getting nothing done while freaking out about getting nothing done.
Here is a snippet of that particular conversation:
Me: I am freaking out and getting nothing done!
Doug:
Me: Because I can't concentrate on anything. I can't settle. I can't sit still.
Doug:
Me (two hours later): You were so right, my friend. The walk helped tremendously. But I still don't know what I should be working on and I have got to have something to show for three weeks of writing time!
Doug:
Me: Well, to me, I guess. I hate it when I feel like I have wasted time.
Doug:
Me: Hm. Interesting. I DO allow other writers more room for the non-writing part of writing. But still - three weeks!
Doug:
Me: Yes, that might work. I'll break it up into three pieces and the first I will dedicate to "coming back to the writing world", the second will be "write anything" and the third will be "project work."
Doug:
Me: Okay, but I don't see how rubbing your tummy will invoke my Muse.
During that first week, I did a lot of reading and thinking and of course, talking to Doug. We had a good discussion about character one afternoon over coffee and carrots. (I don't know - maybe he figures with one eye left, he needs to eat a LOT of carrots. And he does.) Anyway, Doug was pointing out the dangers of flat characters in those roles that fall between major characters and "walk-ons." He used his stuffy as an example, while I focused more on a character in a short story I've been working on.
As always, Doug made a compelling argument.
In the end, I came home with a couple of new short pieces with potential and a renewed vision and enthusiasm for my short story project. It felt so good to have created something - anything - new. But most of all, to have had the time to just be. To remember this part of who I am, to tidy up the office in my mind, gently pushing the children out into the capable hands of other teachers. To rediscover long-untouched files and remember why they delighted me in the first place. Now, I open the door and find familiar faces and voices eager to be brought out of the room and into the world. I once again feel the excitement of creating new characters . . .
. . . as Doug demonstrated one day with a brilliant and inspiring metaphorical lesson on character development. I'm telling you, this guy is a genius. If you ever get a chance to attend one of Doug's writing seminars, don't miss it!
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