Wishing all of you peace and joy whatever holidays you celebrate. I’m in a cabin in my Christmas pajamas enjoying the fire in the fireplace. Richard has gone out to get coffee.
Tomorrow the festivities will be over and we will drive the seven hours back to Missouri, and there will be work to do. But I will carry with me the feeling of comfort in this moment.
I am blessed, sitting in a small, knotty pine cabin in front of a fireplace while the thunder booms outside. What a delicious writing retreat. Oh, and there’s coffee.
If I could do this every day, it wouldn’t be a retreat, would it? No, this is special time. This is a change of scenery that hopefully will let me see my writing develop. The goal for today is to finish the massive rewrite of the first third of the book. That’s no more than 3000 words in my estimation, but it’s a thoughtful three k.
Time for me to quit staring at the fire and start writing.
I sit in my pajamas in front of a fireplace typing this. Think of this as a mini-retreat at a cabin with the winter outside and warmth within. In fact, it’s warm enough that I’m getting sleepy …
No, that will not do. I came here to write, or at least finish editing Whose Hearts are Mountains. I only have three chapters left; I can handle that. But first, a nap …
A half-hour later, I’m awake. The fire is now roaring, and I’m ready to start writing again.
But first, I have to watch the video my friend in Poland (who probably doesn’t read my blog) just dropped …
I need to stop procrastinating. This IS my writing retreat.
On to editing …
Wish me luck — I’m going on a writing (ok, editing) retreat at Mozingo Lake this weekend. It probably won’t snow much here this weekend. That’s where I need the luck.
Mozingo Lake is the park some seven miles from us, owned by the city, with RV and cabin camping and a big fishing lake. We’ve secured one of the cabins for the weekend because I needed to get away to some place with a fireplace, a view out the window, and a minimum of distractions (and wi-fi, so we’re not completely roughing it.) The cabins possess a rustic living room area opening to a less rustic-looking kitchen with modern appliances, with a bedroom and sleeping loft. Oh yes, and indoor plumbing.
We’re supposed to get no more than 1-2 inches of snow Saturday night, and I expect that to hold. We’re going to bail if the forecast changes by Saturday afternoon. The key here is “if the forecast changes”, because sometimes we get more snow than was forecast. With a bit more snow, the roads at Mozingo will be an impassible winter wonderland until they plow. Here’s hoping we get the whole weekend there, and here’s hoping we don’t get snowed in — then again, if we bring extra food, getting snowed in could be fun …
My husband asked me to write about my ideal writing spot. I told him that I already knew my ideal writing spot — a cabin at nearby Mozingo Lake. After all, I said, I could curl up on the couch next to a fireplace in a cozy nook, look out the window at the lake, and type.
I don’t have access to that spot more than once a year or so, which means I have to deal with less than ideal writing spots. Take, for example, my living room (my most common writing spot). I generally write sitting on the couch, with a lap desk securely holding my Surface Pro 3 (an older but serviceable tablet with detachable keyboard). We have a fireplace, sort of — one of those little plug-in electric heaters that if one pretends really well looks like a fireplace. There’s tea here when Richard makes a pot. It’s not my favorite spot, though, because I can’t spread out and be cozy.
We have an office, a small room that was touted as a bedroom in the real estate ads for this house yet seems too small to put even a twin bed in. It’s overfull with bookshelves and a library table, and although its large monitor calls to me, the feeling of cluttered claustrophobia keeps me from taking the space seriously.
Going out to write, of course, gives me a fresh perspective on writing. Board Game Cafe in Maryville, MO (as I’ve mentioned before) has good coffeehouse ambience with just enough distraction to make writing easy. The Starbucks in the campus library (aka the best Starbucks in the US given its location and spacious seating area) works excellently. Both these places need a fireplace, though.
Going back to the Mozingo cabin, I think the reason it’s my favorite writing space is because it’s truly a retreat, a visible break from everyday routine. It’s something I can’t have all the time. Even if we put a real fireplace in my comfortable living room (impossible because of the need for ventilation) my living room would be someplace I would need to take a break from, to get a new view on my writing.
I’m still looking for how to make home more ideal, though.
Normally on the day after Thanksgiving, Richard and I go to a mall for Black Friday. Not to shop, but to watch people. People are generally not at their best when grabbing bargain deals, but there is still enough quirk to make people-watching fun.
Not this year. Lied Lodge (Arbor Day Lodge) is such a soothing combination of wood and stone and fireplace and comfy rocking chairs and plenty of coffee that I’m settled in here for another day of writing retreat. I might get through the second edit on Whose Hearts are Mountains to send it to dev edit (I’m pretty sure I’m sending it to dev edit first.)
We’re cutting the visit a day short because Sunday is bringing a snowstorm to the area that might bring as much as 8 inches of snow. I’m hoping for a snow day Monday.
Peace to my readers.
Hi, my name is Marcie, and I just turned 8! I spent Thanksgiving with my Aunt Laurie and Uncle Richard at a big hotel called The Elms. It looks kind of like a castle until you go inside, and then it looks kind of like a castle inside, only not in the big stone sort of way. They haven’t decorated for Christmas yet, and they play old music — really old music Aunt Laurie calls Sinatra.
Thanksgiving dinner was wonderful, but a bit strange. They had the turkey and the stuffing and the cranberries and the mashed potatoes and the gooey yams, but they also had salads and shrimp and this smoky undercooked salmon. I tried everything — including too much pecan pie with lots of whipped cream. Real whipped cream.
I sat in the lobby by the fireplace for a while — people brought their dogs indoors, can you believe it? I petted a big dog with stripey spots on it, and he leaned against me so I had to keep petting him. I tried to pet a little fluffy dog in a vest, but the owner said it was a service dog. Aunt Laurie said that the dog should have said “Service Dog” in big letters so you could see it.
They have hot tubs, cold tubs, and a place where you can walk in circles in the water. Aunt Laurie calls that a lap pool. That water’s cold! I walked two laps in it and then got too cold and hopped into the hot tub, which was hot! I guess that’s why they call it a hot tub.
What they don’t have is toys. That’s okay, because I brought my doll and my writing stuff. My Barbie’s chubby, and I picked her that way because she looks like my best friend Sara. And my Aunt Laurie. Lots of people are chubby. Barbie danced on the back of the couch (which Aunt Laurie said was leather) and then the wedding party strolled through with white and black dresses, and I thought it would be cool if the big dog was best man and the little dog was the ring bearer. Nope, they had little kids doing that.
Did I have birthday cake and presents, you ask? Nope, not yet. My birthday’s not till Sunday and my mom does birthday things. I think my mom is going to get me art supplies like I asked — not fingerpaint but paper and colored pencils and a coloring book with cats. And a cat! I get to pick her up (all cats are girls, by the way) from the Humane Society Monday.
Gotta go — Aunt Laurie’s walking over to the coffee shop like a zombie — BRAIIINS! — and I want to watch her order coffee!
Words Like Me 