Creating Creative Space
Being exposed to Covid-19 in 2020 was a surprising respite.
Despite being symptom-free, I vacated my home where I lived with my grandmother, and (to my surprise and delight) I was to stay at a small cabin on Lake Sinclair that belonged to my boyfriend’s family. A few days of solitude? Heaven.
I came armed with groceries, a puzzle, books, and my laptop, ready to write something great.
Day One: Rest. I slept in, watched movies on my laptop, and ate girl-dinner for every meal.
Day Two: Slightly social. I walked around the neighborhood, had phone dates with long-distance friends, and read by the lake.
Day Three: Time to write. I established a base camp on the back porch. A bottle of water on my left, snacks on my right, and my laptop fully charged in front of me. An hour in and I was finally beginning to flow. Words bubbled up and onto the page. No sooner did I smile at the thought of how much I could write with no work or responsibilities did the chainsaw start. Ravenous, the machine roared as the neighbor set to work on the trees in his backyard. It wasn’t enough to fell them. Oh no, he had to segment them into manageable parts. This man was extremely diligent; hour upon hour he worked without rest. Even after relocating indoors, the rise and fall of his tool disturbed me and prevented my work. By 2:00, with hardly a paragraph written since his labor began, I surrendered. Another walk, another phone call, another book filled my afternoon. Tomorrow was my last day alone and my last hope.
Day Four: Time to write. Once again, I set up outside. The morning fog on the lake bode well for creativity and my hope rose with the sun. I sipped my cooling coffee and jumped back in where my focus had failed me the day prior. But within a few hours, the neighbor thwarted me again. This time with a small tractor. He set to work leveling the land newly free of trees. Louder than yesterday, equally as distracting, I fumed at this innocent, hard-working man for spoiling my first chance at my ideal writing retreat.
Those days of solitude on the lake did not play out as I hoped but two ideas sprouted. One, an idea for a novel that would become front and center of my creative pursuits for the next four years (and remains front and center today), and two, (to the point of this blog) the plan to take a personal, annual writing retreat.
This plan took a back seat to two job changes, an engagement, a house fire, a failed home rehab, planning a wedding, three moves, my husband’s six month journey on the Appalachian Trail, and buying a home. In other words, life.
But that story idea still fought its way through the noise. Every so often I would tinker on it, about twice a year, until I joined Macon Writers Group. Suddenly, I had a reason to prioritize it, input, and monthly accountability. I toiled at it in the morning hours before work, or on a random Saturday with no other responsibilities. But even with fourteen months of this newfound passion, I made very little progress - about 20,000 words - in the four years since those days on the lake.
Happily, and perhaps for the first time ever, I can report that this past year of my life has become rather calm. Each week looked fairly similar to the one before and no major fires, literal or figurative, took flame to the simpleness of life.
And at last, in November 2024, I took my writing retreat. A small house in the middle of nowhere was my backdrop. Once again, I came armed with groceries, a puzzle, books, and my laptop, ready to write something great. And this time, there was no chainsaw in sight.
This retreat was an experiment. I would explore if I could sustain creativity for days on end, what hours of the day I would naturally want to write, and how many words I could produce with no other competition for my attention. Instead of setting goals, I allowed myself to follow my creativity and motivation, and took the following notes.
Sunday
4:00 pm - Check-in
6:10 pm - Write - Starting word count 21,394
9:13 pm - Stop - Ending word count 22,273
Three hours of work, three hours of play. Stayed up too late. Do better tomorrow. Be in bed by 11:00 pm or after writing stops.
Monday
8:30 am - Breakfast & coffee
9:00 am - Story mapping
10:00 am - Write
3:40 pm - Stop - Ending word count 23,493
Break - Eat, neighborhood walk, work on puzzle, read
7:00 pm - Write
10:30 pm - Stop - Ending word count 25,988
Puzzle was helpful to think in a different way. Read until ready to sleep.
Tuesday
8:00 am - Breakfast, coffee, & reading
9:30 am - Write - Starting word count 25,759 (deleted some unused paragraphs)
2:37 pm - Stop - Ending word count 27,048
Break - Eat, neighborhood walk, work on puzzle, read
5:15 pm - Start
8:28 pm - Stop - Ending word count 28,038
Read until 10:30 pm, check out at 10:00 am
In all, I wrote 6,644 words in two and a half days of writing, but it felt like I had written a year’s worth of work. I learned that I liked a slow morning, writing outside, creativity flowed best in two blocks, and physical activity was necessary in the early afternoon. My most valuable lesson was proving to myself that I can be creatively disciplined.
While I am back to my full time job and my slow pace of writing in the cracks of life, I have resolved to take a writing retreat for myself once a year (even twice if I can swing it), no matter what fires life throws my way.
See the original article on the Macon Writer’s Group Blog.
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