Once upon a time, I posted this entry about making your own mini writing retreat. I admitted that it was an entry about something I’ve never done. That will change this weekend.
Cabin in the Woods
There are only a handful of people with whom I chat about writing. My friend Deacon is the person when it comes to writing chat. (And that’s saying a lot because I chat about writing with Shawn Kupfer a lot these days! Sometimes we even talk about writing on the podcast.)
So this weekend I’m taking my own advice and going with a friend (Deacon) to a cabin in the woods in a state park in east Texas to focus on nothing but writing. (Here’s hoping it’s not like the cabin in The Cabin in the Woods. Deacon and I have already vowed if we stumble upon an old book in a strange language that we will not read from it.)
Why Do This?
Okay, so part of the reason for the weekend is Deacon and I have both been working a lot of overtime at our jobs, and it will be a nice break. I’m sure we’ll sit around a fire and talk about stuff that isn’t all about writing, but mostly — the weekend is about writing. We’re both at points in the novels we’re working on where things can go many different ways. My hope is that I come back to north Texas actually…uhm…knowing how the novel I’m working on actually ends!
Another reason for the retreat: when one is bogged down with day job/life stuff, I think it’s important to put your foot down and claim something…even if it’s just a long weekend. (I plan to take a long weekend at the end of the month, too, so I can hang out with my wife for a block o’ days without any distraction.)
A Good Writing Bud
Every writer needs a good writing bud. (I’m fortunate enough to have a few.) Having that person (or handful of people) you can chat about writing with is a wonderful thing. I’m lucky to be friends with Deacon.
I met Deacon through a small writing group years ago. For over a decade, we’ve talked a lot about writing. We chat about writing almost daily, but rarely hang out in person together. And that’s kind of weird. Outside of seeing Deacon at our writing group for years — and at parties and other places with mutual friends — we’ve only hung out a handful of times.
So part of the weekend retreat is just hanging out with a friend — but Deacon is a friend who knows my writing better than I often know my writing. He gets what I attempt to do unlike anybody else I know. He’s one of the only people I’ll allow to say, “What I’d do, here…” because it’s not his own opinion projected onto my writing…it’s him knowing what I’m trying to do and understanding what I want to do more than I may understand what I’m trying to do.
So…Friday we head out to a state park in east Texas, hoping to claim Cabin #13. (Yep, they have a Cabin 13!) It’s the most secluded of the cabins in the park, and if it doesn’t end like this (WARNING: Extreme gore, language, and spoilers if you haven’t seen The Cabin in the Woods)…we might make it an annual thing.
(I’m serious about that link being gory…)