There's another reason, of course, but it's a bit obscure. If you listen carefully, you'll hear the siren's song, when writers pack up their laptops and head for the hills...or one hill, to be exact.
For the first time in many years I found myself able to take time off from work and attend the writing retreat in person. I've missed the past couple of years due to "life," but this year, things were looking up. The first day or two of the week we had planned to so some much-needed work around the house, then when I was planning to leave, I got hit with a cough. It wasn't so bad that I couldn't function, but bad enough I didn't want to be hold up (yes, hold up...) in a house with several other authors trying to turn blood, sweat, and tears into art.
I stayed home.
All is not lost. Those who put together the writing retreat each year encourage everyone to create no matter where they are, be they at the hill house, or in their own house.
This year, instead of pounding out words for stories yet un-written, I worked on two stories that need editing. Then, I did something I haven't done in almost a decade...I submitted part of a manuscript to see of the publisher is interested.
Submitted a story is like pushing the button to launch a bomb. It's scary, exciting, maddening, nerve-racking, but at times, needs to be done. I've submitted several stories in the past--mostly short stories--but the feeling is the same and hasn't stopped conjuring those emotions. Maybe that will change in the future...
Maybe not.
Even though I did not write 43k or 45k words as some at the retreat did (unbelievable...), I feel it was a success. I've needed to kick those stories out of the nest for years.
I'm again making it a goal to attend in person next year. I came closer this year than I did the past couple. I suppose that's what the retreat is really all about...setting goals to improve, to create, to push yourself for the benefit of mankind.
Must be spring.
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