Glorious Break

I’ve missed a couple days writing this blog, but that’s because I spent a couple days in Kansas City on a writing retreat. Writing retreats consist of soaking up coffeehouse atmosphere, eating good food, and writing. This writing goal was to clean up some formatting and language on Gaia’s Hands that I missed the first time around. Luckily, uploading corrected versions on Kindle is so easy that I did it in half an hour, and 20 minutes of that was tweaking the cover.

I have editing to do with Avatar of the Maker, especially as I’ve separated it from the Maker’s Seeds plot. That’s something I’ve learned over my years writing, that there is such a thing as too much plot. As I have one-third of the book written, this will probably be painful. Maybe I will rescue it later. I have another book, although a fluffy one, waiting in the wings.

I get intense focus on writing retreats, even though I’m writing in a crowded coffeehouse. Or, as it so happens right now, writing in a quiet hotel room while my husband snores. (Oh yes, Richard, you do snore).

Today, I will write my newsletter and get caught up on my promotion tasks. And feel rested for the week to come.

Writing Retreat

Barn swallows dance

Out the window of the cabin, I watch the barn swallows preen themselves. Blue-black shoulders and rusty chests. They soar and flutter to catch their daily quota of bugs, and then they preen.

A big guy has arrived to weed whack in the backyard, startling the swallows. He’s wearing a Bearcats Football t-shirt. He’s probably a football player. Football players don’t get cushy jobs here in Bearcat Nation. That’s part of why we have the best Division II football program in the US —

Richard is not here — he’s at work. I’m at work, too, if you count the emails I have been answering. It’s hardly a job; I’m down to about 3-5 per day from the 40-some during the school year. Hence the mini-vacation.

Hence the writing retreat.

I will only be here a day or so; I relish a mini-vacation, a writing retreat, a hope that I will reclaim myself as a writer. Small steps, this blog first. A cognitive exercise if I need to dissipate my feelings of mediocrity. And at least a few words of writing.

The writing is the hard part

Inertia is the supreme force of human nature. Remain still, and one will find the couch incredibly tempting. Force oneself off the couch, and movement and industry flow. I am not a vegetative sort; I enjoy making things happen.

Right now, I am facing my nightmare of inertia: I am away from my other time demanding activities, the gardening and the researching thereof, and I don’t know if I want to get off the couch. It’s like being tired of the thing that gives one identity.

One of those procrastination tricks.

I will now trick myself into writing. Richard says I only need to write a little, so I will promise myself 15 minutes. If I can’t write more than that, I’ve done my bit of writing. If I can write longer than that, then I’m breaking the barrier of inertia.

On My Way Home

As vacations go …

As vacations go, this has been one of the best. After over a year without a vacation, I couldn’t do better than a couple relaxing days at a spa. I got a bunch of queries out with my new and improved cover letter, and I’ve gotten to realize that I need to do some daydreaming in with my writing/marketing. Need to break the non-writing loop.

My body is more relaxed than it has been for a year. The COVID tension has fallen from me and I finally feel like the world is recovering (note — I have gotten fully vaccinated). I’ve returned to writing in the tiled lobby of the Elms, and things feel near normal.

Wouldn’t it be nice?

Wouldn’t it be nice to hold a writers’ retreat here? I mean a writers’ retreat with more than one writer (me) in the house. There’s atmosphere, wine, dining, a spa, and those couches with built-in outlets in them. I don’t know what would make this a more perfect space. Not big enough for a large writers’ conference, but enough for a sweet retreat.

Me, a writer?

As I wrote that, I really wondered if I had the qualifications to be a writer. You’d think it was easy — I’ve written, I’ve published. But I have a large chunk of impostor syndrome because I’m also a professor. My works haven’t sold much. I have plenty of excuses to discount my qualifications as a writer.

But if I can spend a couple days writing at a picturesque (and relatively inexpensive) hotel and spa like The Elms, I think I can call myself a writer.

Vacation!

(or, rather, mini-vacation)

It’s time to take my mini-vacation to The Elms!

I don’t care that this vacation, in effect, will be two days. I have been waiting for this little trip for over a year, holding it in my head as what I would do when it was safe to travel after COVID. It kept me going through the social isolation, the online/zoom classes, the inadvisability of eating in restaurants, and the like.

What I have planned

I have a few things planned — very few. I will get some writing/revising in because this is in part my writing retreat. I will get a massage and spend two hours in the Grotto soaking up hot tubs and steam showers and sitting in a lounge chair with an iced peppermint washcloth over my eyes. I will find time in a cofeehouse. I will try to talk my husband for a road trip on the way home to eat Sichuan food.

Happy cry

I’m about to happy cry, I’ve needed this so badly.

Daydreaming a Summer Break

Sorry to keep you all waiting, but I had to finish grading final exams for my last class. I’m officially done with my semester, which if you read yesterday’s post, doesn’t feel like an ending at all. I’m wondering if going tent camping in my backyard would feel like a vacation. At my age, it would probably feel like torture.

Honestly, if I could afford a travel trailer, I’d park it out at the nearby park for the summer just to feel like I’d gotten away from people. I like that idea — it would make a perfect writing retreat. Home away from home, and even wifi (not excellent wifi, but passable).

A cabin out in the woods would be nice. If it had wifi. I need to have my internet to monitor students and the like.

I’m just not ready to break the shelter-in-place and be in space with lots of people. I’m certainly not going to take the face mask off the few times I’m anywhere near people.

It just doesn’t feel like summer without my little writing retreat.

Tha

Because our families are so far away and it’s no fun to cook for two and our house is too chaotic for guests (with now four cats, as Buddy has been shunning our house for brighter prospects with his buddy the black-and-white cat), my husband and I go somewhere fun and eat turkey there.

This year, we’re off for a couple days to a mini-holiday in Kansas City: Staying at a bed and breakfast on the Plaza, eating turkey at a restaurant in Waldo (all together: where’s Waldo?), knocking around and watching shoppers on Black Friday. The bed and breakfast — Southmoreland on the Plaza — promises to be a treat, with afternoon sherry and turndown chocolates.

I started dating my now-husband on Thanksgiving break in 2005. He got acquainted to my ritual of watching Black Friday shoppers rather than shopping (much cheaper, fewer hassles). I think that’s why we got married: he liked my quirk.

So this should be a pleasant break before going back to work (I’m a professor of human services) on Monday. But there’s only one week of work, then finals, then I’m off for Winter Break. That’s just strange.

More Rain

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.

Decision Point

I’m at a decision point:

Do I edit Reclaiming the Balance, or do I start writing?

I think I’ve stated this before, but I haven’t written anything new since I finished Whose Hearts are Mountains back in November/December.

It’s time to write. It’s time to get reacquainted with the story line and with my main characters, Leah and Baird. I’m taking some retreat time this weekend to see what I can get going as a start.

I’m a writer again!

Sunday morning at Mozingo and my lack of inspiration

Sunday morning at Mozingo Lake. I’m sitting on the couch swathed in blankets in front of the fire, recovering from my decision to turn the heater down for the night. The main room temperature was 57 degrees this morning; the bedroom, without its own heat, probably hit the low fifties. So I’m now pampered on the couch while Richard makes hot chocolate.

I’ve decided to do one more editing pass of Whose Hearts are Mountains, suspecting that I concentrated too much on the “was is where have had has” and not enough on other aspects that need smoothing out. And I have one more novel that needs editing after that.

I’m postponing writing another novel, and I know it.

Like I said, I have an idea for a new novel that I’ve been sitting on for a while. The name of the novel is (tentatively) God’s Seeds; I’ve talked about it in these pages. It might help me to do what I usually do when I write — pay attention to the relationships between characters. The themes come first, the plot I create in the outline, but in my books, the relationships between characters create the dialog and the unfolding of the story. The main relationship in this novel is between Baird Wilkens, a half-human Nephilim and Leah Inhofer, a young adult with a startling gift. The story is in the Archetype universe, taking place a year or so after the Apocalypse. (Note to readers — the Apocalypse doesn’t turn out like you think. Look up the origin of the word)

It’s just hard to write right now because of my failure to get something accepted. I’ve already fulfilled my goal of writing a novel several times over, so another novel isn’t a tantalizing new goal. I haven’t gotten published or even found an agent yet, and so that goal seems daunting enough that I’m becoming avoidant.

What do I need right now? A clear path — an idea of what to do next. Give up? (I don’t feel like I’d have closure if I did this.) Self-publish? (I’m still scared of landing into obscurity, and it wouldn’t feel like closure.) Keep plugging away? (Insanity is doing the same thing over and over with the same results). Pray? (I’ve been doing this. No answer, my friends. No answer.)

At this moment, I guess it doesn’t matter, because I’m parked in front of a warm fire in a pine-paneled cabin, Outside lies a snowy landscape and iced-over lake. All is fine.

Writing retreat at Mozingo

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 …