Today I want to write
about the importance of getting away and
treating yourself as a break to your
overstressed life. Over the weekend I attended
Deanna
Adams'
annual
Women’s Writers Retreat
at a lovely
Victorian bed and breakfast in Willoughby, Ohio,
The Homestead House,
where each room
was decorated with comfort and serenity in mind.
They came with names…the Sanctuary, the Fine
Arts Room, The Victorian Rose, the Speakeasy,
the Railroad. Mine was the Railroad room, and
boasted a train motif and a genuine pot-bellied
stove. Others had canopied beds, gas fireplaces,
claw-footed tubs, and heart-shaped Jacuzzis.
About twenty women attended the retreat, some
driving in for the speaker sessions, and others
staying in the B&B. The sessions included tips
on public speaking, inspiration for your
writing, including on-the-spot creativity
exercises, and how to fill your writing with
suspense, as in how to keep your reader
wondering what’s going to happen next.
The atmosphere was casual and relaxed, with an
assortment of wine available each evening. Oh,
and chocolate. Plenty of chocolate. Some of us
staying in the B&B attended the sessions wearing
slippers, while the cold wind and snow blew
endlessly outside. But inside we were having
pizza and salad, and sharing stories and
offering tips to each other on how to craft and
market a better story, article, or essay. One
woman had also taken up beading, and invited us
to her room to show us what she'd been working
on over the past three years. More than a few of
us, I suspect, returned downstairs in awe of her
creativity, and wearing a sparkly little
souvenir of the weekend.
When the evening ended, we retreated to our
rooms to relax and refresh our minds and bodies
after the stressful drive to get there during
one of the worst snowstorms of the season. In
the morning we were treated to a four-course
gourmet breakfast before launching into the
day’s program, which included a roundtable
discussion of our work and feedback on any
problems we might be having in our writing.
I didn’t know any of the women at the retreat.
Had never met any of them before, including my
roommate, who generously offered to share her
room with me so I wouldn’t have to stay at a
hotel down the road. But conversation flowed. At
tables and in artfully arranged sitting areas
and in our various rooms—being the curious lot
that we are, everyone had to go and check out
everyone else’s room--we talked writing and
editing and marketing and promotion and
exchanged tidbits about our families and the
endless amount of balance it takes to juggle all
the roles we fulfill: wife, mother, daughter,
sister, aunt, family caretaker and often
breadwinner, in addition to being a writer.
What impressed me most about the group was the
enormous amount of creativity and determination
that existed in that one room alone. At the end
of the second evening, we had an open mic
session, which is best described as karaoke for
writers. Whoever wanted to could step up to the
podium and share something they had written with
the others. We heard humor, irony, drama,
history, angst, and pain. So much pain. I’d say
most writers are drawn to writing as a means to
express their innermost emotions. It’s a gift we
have, that allows us to share our joys and our
sorrows, our triumphs and tragedies, and in
doing so inspire others to have hope, carry on,
or even take up the pen themselves.
As I looked around the room at this marvelous
pool of talent, I found it sad that women in our
society are still treated as second class
citizens with little to offer outside of our
sexuality. In that room I witnessed kindness,
compassion, creativity, courage, inspiration,
intelligence, wit, and grace, and a kind of
enduring strength that made me feel blessed
beyond belief for the opportunity to meet and
get to know these amazing women, most of whom I
will probably never see again.
But for that brief moment in time we all came
together, united in one goal, to improve our
craft and share our love of writing with someone
outside of our families, who quite often don’t
understand the need to write and resent the time
it takes away from our roles as listed above.
I think every woman, whether you’re a writer or
not, needs a getaway weekend like that now and
then, to help you to appreciate who you are and
what you have to offer the world, and to help
the people in your life who depend on you
appreciate you a little more in your absence. I
know when I get back my family is always happy
to see me, and they wouldn’t have that
eye-opening opportunity to miss me if I didn’t
disappear every now and then for a few days of
mental and emotional recharging.
Also, just to have a little fun. At the end of
the second evening, those of us staying in the
B&B decided to trundle through the snow-filled
night into town and visit one of four drinking
establishments available—including a wine shop,
an Irish pub, and a martini bar. We chose the
martini bar, where we each ordered a
generous-sized martini from a menu of
almost 40 varieties of
martinis
and,
being responsible drinkers, a sampling of
appetizers to go with it. Amid toasts and
laughter, we shared pumpkin ravioli, fruit and
cheese and crackers, bruschetta, and toasted
pita bread with blue cheese buffalo chicken dip.
For my martini, I settled on something called a
Campfiretini, which was made up of Bailey’s
Irish Cream, vodka, Godiva chocolate and toasted
marshmallow syrup.
It was supposed to taste like S’mores. Instead
it tasted like Bailey’s, which was no hardship
:).
I didn’t even feel the effects, but knew better
than to order a second one. All I know is I
laughed and laughed, and at the seemingly
dumbest things, just because it felt so good to
be out and in the company of so many women I
admired. Strong, independent women, with wit and
intelligence and the ability to turn any story
into one that had us hooting. Then we walked
back to the B&B, still laughing and joking, and
retired to our special rooms again, where my
roommate and I stayed up a while longer, talking
and getting to know one another.
The following morning breakfast was light—only
three courses—but enough to keep me from getting
hungry again until well past dinner time. More
invaluable advice on how to make our writing
shine followed, and then it was time to load up
our bags, dig our cars out of the snow, hug
everyone goodbye and head home, filled with
renewed energy and inspiration and a
determination to see our writing goals achieved.
I made a lot of professional contacts over the
weekend, but also made some new friends. Friends
I hope to see again and again as we return each
year to be renewed and refreshed by good food,
good wine, good conversation, good speakers,
good writing, the soft glow of a gas fireplace
and the warm hum of a Jacuzzi.
And maybe another one of those Campfiretinis :).
