a WRITING retreat
where it's time to get to work
I’m writing this on the first morning of my “writing retreat” in Williamsport, PA. It’s Monday, 7:00am, I’m out on the deck with my laptop and coffee, and a horn just went off in some facility a few blocks away. The horn wasn’t meant for me, but let’s pretend it was. It seems like a fitting start to what I hope is a productive time.
When I’ve thought about what a writing retreat is, I’ve imagined a farmhouse, or some old mansion, or maybe a campus, where ten or twelve other writers or artists are also ensconced for some period of time. Breakfast is served, work gets done, and then the artists and writers all meet for dinner where they discuss the work they’re doing. Maybe there are readings, or more formal critiques as well. And that sounds grand. But this isn’t that.
Not long ago, I think I’d have hated the picture I just painted of a writer’s retreat. I would have thought it felt precious and twee to have to remove oneself from one’s normal world in order to get words written. And anyway, who are these other writers and artists, and what do they know about me and what I’m doing? Furthermore, ugh, do I really have to listen to them drone on about their work?
I would have felt that way back when I was managing to write picture books and stories while in the middle of the tornado that was raising two kids and illustrating six books a year. I remember writing the first real draft of the first Everything Goes book, I guess this would have been 2010, sitting in a chair in the spare bedroom around 11:00pm, after everyone had gone to bed. The story had been sitting there on the edge of my brain for weeks and I finally had the space, mentally, to put pen to paper and write. If I had a work process or a mantra, it was probably this:
Get done
what can get done
when it can get done.
My life is quite different now. Still busy, less frantic. I write a lot more now than I did then, mainly because of this Substack. But one of the main reasons for writing this Substack was to make writing feel less “over there” and more in front of me. Writing always felt like a far-off place. In order to get any of it done, I had to clear the decks and open the empty space around me, allowing the ideas to be thought, and the words to eke out onto the page. I needed conditions to be perfect. In contrast, I can sit down and draw a pretty picture anywhere, any time. Look, here’s a drawing of two moths I made last night in a movie theatre while I waited for The Odyssey to begin.
When I began writing Random Orbit, I wanted my writing to be like my drawing. I wanted to be able to knock out 100 words, 500 words, 1500 words without everything around me needing to be perfect.
So, why the heck do I need a “retreat,” then?
Last April, I spent three days visiting schools and bookstores with author Kate Messner. Kate and I collaborated on a picture book called The Whale’s Tale and the Otter’s Side of the Story, and HarperCollins had sent us on a mini-tour together. Kate is a real writer. She’s not precious about it. The same way I treat my illustration, where it’s a job but it’s also me down to my very bones, she treats her writing. We talked a lot about writing as we shuttled from school, to school, to store, and I mentioned that I had a couple of projects that were having a hard time getting my attention. I don’t say no to paid work much, which is an important part of making a living doing this sort of thing, and as a result I find myself putting the ideas that don’t yet have a shape (or a deadline, or a contract) on the backburner.
It doesn’t quite work this way, but let’s say I sit down at the desk on a Monday morning and I’m considering what needs to get done that day. Usually there are a dozen or more actual things on that list, but they all fit into three basic categories. So I’ll pretend there are only three choices.
Finish up some difficult sketches for a manuscript I’m illustrating.
Design some stickers that I will get printed and sell through my website.
Work on the middle-grade novel that right now exists only as an idea in my head and several hundred notes in a notebook and my Notes app.
Two of these are “real” where the other one feels imaginary. When I spend time on things that fit into the third category, I feel guilty. I’m spending time on this amorphous, imaginary thing when there is “real” work that needs to get done. There’s a high that comes with checking things off a list, and when that first draft checkbox is years away, it’s never going to get the attention that the other projects get. Number 3 never gets the attention it needs to become something real.
I’ve found some things that work for me here. One is to change the checkboxes. Instead of “first draft” being the goal, make “500 words every day” be the goal. 500 words isn’t a lot, just a drop in the bucket. But it adds up.
Another is to force the issue and make the project real in some different way. I did this in March with my graphic novel project. It doesn’t have an editor or a deadline, but since I now have paid subscribers who are expecting updates, I give it the time it needs, and it’s working.
But I’ve run into another problem, now. As I told Kate over lunch, these solutions have helped make progress on the graphic novel and on a small collection of short stories I’m writing. These feel somewhat under control, even though they’re taking longer than I’d like. But I’ve got this other thing I’m struggling with. It’s big and messy and complicated and it needs to be wrangled. It’s a novel, and even when I’m giving time and attention to these short stories and this graphic novel, I’m afraid to turn away from those projects and look at this one. I asked Kate how I might give some room to this bigger, uglier thing.
Kate suggested a retreat. She suggested giving myself a block of time with nothing else on the calendar, and allow myself the space to work on nothing else. I’d derided that idea for years. Real writers don’t need that sort of escape. They can write in a tornado! But here was Kate Messner suggesting exactly that.
What Kate was suggesting was something more like the retreat I described at the beginning. A place with other writers, writing and reading and sharing. I almost did that. I almost signed up for one of these in far upstate New York. But the cost and time to just get there was prohibitive. Sacha suggested I just get a cabin in the woods somewhere, and while an Airbnb apartment in Williamsport isn’t quite that, it’ll do the job. To be honest, when this planning took place I wasn’t feeling a cabin in the woods. I liked the idea of stuff happening around me, and even though Williamsport isn’t a bustling metropolis, I think it’ll be better to do this work here, than hidden away in the middle of nowhere.1
When I packed for the trip last week, I thought about all the work I wanted to do here. In addition to the notebooks and folders for this novel, I also packed my folders and notebooks for the short stories and the graphic novel. In addition, I even shot a video discussing what drawing materials I’d bring with me. And while a large part of my writing process is, in fact, drawing, especially for an illustrated novel like this will be, I realized the insanity of all of this late last night walking back from the movie. I was thinking about what I was actually going to do this morning, first thing.
I’d love to send my agent a new draft of my short story about a grasshopper. And I’d be thrilled to post a new edition of Random Orbit about my graphic novel while I’m here. It would be nice to check those boxes off before I get going on the real work.
And then I caught myself. I’m here to wrangle the bigger, messier, uglier thing. Not check off boxes.
It’s now 8:00am, and someone at the mechanic shop next door just yelled at someone else to get to work. That directive wasn’t meant for me, but let’s pretend it was.
thanks for reading
-Brian
Here’s the video I made about my art supplies.
This week-long retreat is book-ended by two bike races I’ve signed up for. The first was this past Saturday, and was somewhat of a biblical experience. A plague of biting flies, yellow smoky air, and torrential thunderstorms. I made a short video of that, as well.
You’ve seen The Shining, right.
I'm delighted by this news. And I hope it's a great week for you - can't wait to see what comes out of it!
It’s so fun to watch you discover things and put them into action! Inspires me to do the same. Sending all the productivity vibezzzzz your way!