In this post I wrote about my first DIY writing retreat, back in 2017. That one was short, economical, and focused entirely on the writing part (rather than the retreat part). This year, I wanted to do something a bit more relaxing—but just as productive. I thought about signing up for a group retreat, but those aren’t really happening right now, so I took myself on a solo retreat. Here’s how I made the most of it.
I took it seriously.
I’ve struggled for a long time with the idea that “I’m not a real writer.” I used to feel guilty for spending my money or vacation time on things like writing retreats. Before this one, I forced myself to ditch that attitude and start taking myself seriously. I looked at my writing as a job, maybe even a business. This was critical to maximizing my productivity on retreat.
I went away.
Away from my day job, pets, houseplants, and other responsibilities. Away from my natural habitat, shall we say. I wanted someplace quiet and outdoorsy, that would get my creative juices flowing while still making it feel like a retreat. And I didn’t want to spend hundreds of dollars on a plane ticket or spend hours in the car on my way there.
I decided on Estes Park, a small tourist town in the Rocky Mountains just an hour north of where I live. I narrowed down my lodging choices to those with a full kitchen (so I could save money and eat healthy), a desk or table for writing (surprisingly hard to find), and a fireplace (I needed to write by a crackling fire—this was non-negotiable). I ultimately chose an inn that didn’t allow children or pets, in the hopes that it would be quieter and more conducive to writing. Bonus points: They were having an off-season special, stay two nights and get the third free, which left more money in my budget for notebooks, tea, fuzzy socks, and other writing necessities. Cha-ching. Oh, and did I mention the in-room jacuzzi?
I came prepared.
I spent the days leading up to my retreat preparing myself both physically and mentally. I gathered my notebooks, binders, and index cards. I decided which resource books to bring (Write Characters Your Readers Won’t Forget by Stant Litore and The Urban Setting Thesaurus by Angela Ackerman & Becca Puglisi). I stocked up on filling, easy-to-prepare food like canned soup and instant oatmeal.
I also spent plenty of time with my work-in-progress in order to get in the right mindset for my retreat. I made lists of what I wanted to work on and goals for my weekend away. I ultimately decided that achieving these goals hinged on bringing two enormous bulletin boards, which I was using to keep track of my novel’s ever-changing plot—I felt a little silly hauling them up the stairs to my room, but it was worth it.
I scheduled my time.
Like I said before, I wanted it to feel like a retreat—so I didn’t plan on pulling any all-nighters. But I still made a rough schedule for each day and set an alarm for 7:00 each morning. I planned breaks for food, exercise, calling loved ones, and extracurricular activities. On Friday morning I took a short walk around my cabin, tramping through the snow, taking photos of the evergreen-carpeted mountains, and basically communing with nature. In the afternoon I explored downtown Estes Park—I picked up a few souvenirs, visited an antique store and glassblowing studio, and got in some much-needed socialization. On Saturday I took a painting class at a nearby art gallery. These activities offered much-needed breaks and different creative outlets, so I could return to my project with renewed energy.
I brought the retreat home with me.
At least, as much as I could. Next week I’ll post more details about how I preserved the creative energy and productive mindset of my retreat, and how I’ve kept it going since I got home.