The writing retreat was productive. Lots of people asked me about it, too. But from their questions, though, the meaning of “writing retreat” is cloudy.
It’s not a conference. It’s not a communal affair at all. It was a learning experience–every foray into silence is–but there were no workshops, students, teachers, or classrooms. Here’s what I did upon arriving at the Colonyhouse in Rockaway Beach.
1. Unlock the building, make three burdened trips from the car with bedding, food, clothes, and books.
2. Say hi to beach, eat sandwich.
3. Cut a stack of index cards into fours.
4. Wonder how many important files I forgot at home.
5. Add some branches to MindNode.
6. Sort music in iTunes for 45 minutes.
7. Run at sunset, discover that the beach has rearranged itself since last year.
8. Take lots of sunset pictures.
9. Take an eternal shower.
10. Eat salty gnocchi dinner while reading Matt Rees’s “A Grave in Gaza.”
11. Call E. Make unstable assertion that we don’t fight over workouts. Get gossip. Say goodnight.
12. Make more MindNode branches.
13. Read dense academic book, in pajamas, under covers, in low light.
14. Wake at midnight with book on my chest.
15. Wake at 12:30 certain there’s a ghost in the house.
16. Wake at 6:30, think “coffee.” Pursue.
17. Make more MindNodes.
18. Fail to make heads or tails of a book on militarization of women.
…
21. More MindNodes.
…
32. Watch pelicans hunt.
…
38. Do 20 more pushups.
…
45. Stand over blank newsprint and scattered blank index cards.
…
55. Say, “Today’s the day,” ask what happens in this nonexistent novel.
56. Answer the question, “What happens?” for two and a half hours in MindNode.
57. Transcribe MindNodes onto index cards.
58. Draw an arc on the newsprint. Write “Beginning,” “Middle,” and “End.”
59. Make another pot of coffee.
60. Arrange the cards.
…
65. Call E and say I did what I’d come to do.
66. Drive home Thursday instead of Friday, through Tillamook Forest at night, listening to the same song for a hour and 45 minutes, with a plot outline rolled up in the back seat.
Creepy, creaky, beautiful room of one's own overlooking the beach.
