A mini writing retreat

Nourishing my inner life

My house smells like chocolate, roasted almonds, orange zest. Large, chunky cookies are cooling on the kitchen bench. On one there is a puddle of melted chocolate, a glistening sweet lake. I want to dip my finger into it, but I won’t.

It is a glorious late winter’s morning, more like spring, with an expected temperature of 25. When I hung the sheets an hour ago, the sun was already warm on my back. I am wearing a t-shirt for the first time in months, though my feet are still wrapped in woollen socks.

My house is clean, the sheets and towels are drying. The washing machine is waiting for my husband to come home and shuck off the work day. The windows are open, fresh air is clearing out the stale air of a house closed to the world while its occupiers work.

I feel the welcome breath of relaxation do its work, inhaling a slower pace, exhaling the busyness of the week.

Some of this is normal - the cleaning, the baking, the readying for the weekend. But this weekend is different to most, for I will have two days to myself. While my husband is visiting one of our sons 700km away, I am preparing for a solo writing retreat.

When the gift of time first presented itself, my first thought was to invite a few writer friends over for a half-day retreat: food, conversation, writing time, encouragement. I’ve been wanting to do this for months, to host a retreat, a gathering really. I imagined myself baking and creating a welcoming space for my friends - eight woman gathered around my large dining table. I imagined setting the scene, choosing my cast of characters, letting our writerly connection unfold.

But I kept putting off the invitation. Why? It’s something I want to do and I know I’ll enjoy it. What was stopping me?

I’m reading The Luminous Solution by Charlotte Wood. In the early chapters, she writes about her desire and decision to rebuild a ‘flourishing inner life’ and a writing space (physical and mental) that allows ‘curious optimism’. To find a way to fight back against the outer world that thrusts worries, a never-ending news cycle, always “on” social lives, rampant busyness and worse in our path. In doing this, she aims to bring back the joy into her writing. To leave the fears and doubts and worries at the door.

‘I began consciously to alter my mood before sitting down to a writing day. I practised flipping my usual bleak, nervy fear into a state of lightly excited, curious optimism. For some time, I faked it and then, haltingly, I made it.

~ Charlotte Wood, The Luminous Solution

This too is what I crave in my writing life.

I haven’t written a word on my manuscript for three weeks.

Wildflower came out two weeks ago, which means I’m busy with book promotion when I’m not at work. The day it was released, typeset pages for my upcoming book Wherever You Go arrived in my inbox along with a ten-day deadline. It’s all part of getting published, part of the job. A necessary busyness if I want readers to engage with my work.

And yet, my work-in-progress is calling. It has been waiting patiently, but the call is stronger now. My inner life has been full of this story in my resting hours. It wants me to reconnect, to engage. To give it time.

Wood also writes of her aversion to the word ‘muse’.

She says: ‘I’ve almost never heard women artists talk about muses, which bring to mind winsome girls, decorative and docile slaves to the towering art figure.’

I see her point. But I thought about this for a while after reading it, and realised that I see the idea of a muse differently. To me, the muse is my inner creative Self. It is not a person, someone who inspires me to write or who makes my writing life easier.

To me, a muse - my muse - is my creativity. It is within me, it is me.

And right now, it is inviting me to let it go wild for a weekend. To let it have this gift of time and see what unfolds. To gift myself a solo writing retreat and leave behind (with all the worries of everyday life) book promotion and marketing and trying to put on a fantastic gathering for others.

Wood writes about the need to connect with others, to cast aside the thinking that writers must always work in ‘desperate isolation’. I agree - and that’s why I will organise a gathering in the coming months. But this weekend, I need that isolation so I can connect with my work on a deeper basis.

I need to feed my inner life.

And so I’m preparing. I’m doing what I need to in my outer life to nourish this time as best I can. Like Wood, I need a level of tranquility in my surroundings - a clean house, fresh food, time to spend in nature. A sense of order gives me peace. Even when I am writing in the gaps on weekends, I find it hard to relax if the house is a mess, if the kitchen bench is cluttered. I need candles, beautiful scents, the sound of nature.

Later today I’ll do the groceries, and stock up on healthy and comfort snacks. My house is clean. I’ve baked chunky New York style cookies for a treat (some will go away with my husband, a treat for our son). And tomorrow my solo retreat will begin.

A mix of exercise, meditation, morning pages. A catch-up with a friend that I can’t rearrange. Writing, walks, wondering. Good food. Maybe even a glass of wine or two. An evening chat with my husband.

My aim is to read through the manuscript, finish the chapter I started a few weeks ago, and start the second part of the novel. I want to try to push forward on this draft and not get bogged down by details, research and self-editing.

Wish me luck!

PS. I would love you to read Wildflower. A powerful story that’s both coming-of-age and psychological drama, it’s available here. Your support means more than you know.