This Writer Doesn’t Retreat

As a writer, often I see places advertised that you can rent, workshops you can attend or contests you can enter to win a writers retreat.  Sounds wonderful, doesn’t it?  A place to go and simply be and just write.  No worries except for day to day things you have to do like eat, sleep, bathe, etc.

I do know when I go on vacation, I always take a laptop, and notepad so I can write.  I’m usually quite productive on those trips.

Somehow, though, I don’t think I’d get all that much done if I was at an isolated place for a week or longer.  I don’t think I could check out of my non-writing life long enough to not worry, to not be constantly checking in to make sure everything was ok at home.  And for me, it would be even worse if there was no wifi or internet.  I don’t live on social media, or have to be constantly connected, but I do like the option of having the ability to make a call or send a text on my smart phone if it’s necessary.

Of course, I have never tried a writer’s retreat.  And it probably won’t come as any surprise that I’m not the type to retreat in any sense of the word, or if I do it’s usually long enough to regroup and start again.  

It depends on what I’m working on as to how much quiet and alone time I need.  I have an office space where I live and it’s also where I practice my guitar and ukulele.  I do have the option of closing the door, and sometimes I do, but usually I don’t.  I like to hear what’s going on or at least be aware of it.  Of course, if the dog is barking at the wind, deer or any of the other assorted wild critters that come up in the woods then I may have difficulty tuning that out.  

I am quiet by nature and don’t like a lot of noise or being around people who talk to much (hello, my whole family is mostly made up of extroverts so that takes some adapting) and I actually prefer to be alone.  I would probably enjoy getting away for a day or two or even a week.  I’m not sure if I would be motivated to write and work on my projects simply because it seems I need that every day jab of my every day life to keep me on task.  I write certain hours each weeknight and different hours on the weekends.  What would I possibly do with all that time to simply think and write?  I imagine the ideas that I get during the early morning, during the night that I cannot always address or sadly remember to write down would become works for me.  Maybe a poem or play, or short story.  Who knows?

My writing is only limited by the time I give it.  And while I may not be willing to retreat somewhere to work on it, I have at least carved out a space by a window in my office to write, and a space near a different one to read.  I take time at lunch most days to read as well.  I read by lamp light in my favorite chair.

Some days, I may give up on my writing and want to quit, but it is a part of me and has been since I was very young.  I take heart that I may have to take a break for a while or stop working on a project and start something new sometimes but that I keep going.  

I am a writer.  And this writer, never retreats!

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 

Plans, What plans?

It seems this year has been one of blowing your plans to well wherever you want to say or insert here.  I know we’ve had to cancel trips, family and business, and change quite a bit of how we go about our daily lives.  

I thought today, who’d ever thought I’d be using a coat rack to hang masks on?  Who ever thought a mask would become an accessory?

This weekend is a holiday weekend.  Usually we take a mini trip somewhere every year.  Due to a family life change, we couldn’t even do that.  We had planned to go somewhere with not a lot of people.

I prefer going somewhere with not a lot of people anyway but it made me very sad to have to cancel our family getaway.  Many people, however, are still traveling and some social distance on vacation better than others.

I, though, don’t want to see pictures of other people’s trips or hear about what a great time they are having, social distancing or not.   It’s hard to even think any of this will pass and things will ever be like they were.

I’ve learned, though, to not think of the past and to be more flexible and on the spot or spontaneous - I’m a planner, we don’t do last minute well, not like ever!  That’s a positive in this.  And I’ve learned plans can be made as long as you are willing to adjust them.  

I use what I call light planning now - and more of going with the flow thinking if this slot of time opens up, then perhaps we can do this or get that done, etc.  I know writers are supposed to use outlines and think about what we’re going to say or write, but to me part of the fun of writing is to figure it out as I go along.

I have to apply that to regular life - figure it out as you go along.  And keep plenty of paper, note pads, whatever to make notes just in case.

Why is the Glove you use on your dominant hand always the one that gets a hole in it?

This is the question I get asked as my boys come in from working outside.  I think they were building flower pots or benches or both.  It’s hot, it’s summer in the south, and I had a pressing matter to attend to inside so that’s where I stayed (except to walk the dog).  

How easy it is to go through work gloves, gardening gloves, winter gloves (we have all 4 seasons here), and plastic gloves?  I’ve had to use my share of plastic gloves (please don’t write to me about filling up the land fill, I’ve been eco conscious since before it became a political issue, my use of plastic gloves is for a medical reason (not my own)) lately so it seems we’re all using gloves.

I wear them in the winter.  I have to, I get cold.  I have several pairs.  

When the question, though, about the glove with the holes (a rather sturdy more expensive type of work glove and not from the $1 bin), I say that sounds like the title of a country western or cowboy song likening it to one of my favorite groups, Riders in the Sky.  (Try listening to them and not smiling, just sayin’.). The reply I get back is that it sounds like a poem title.  

Well, probably not for one of mine.  I have written a cowboy poem or two, but not many.  I tend to follow in Whitman’s footsteps and write exclusively in free verse.  I do enjoy writing social or eco poems (not nature, more along the be aware of the environment verse) and science fiction poems.  

I thought perhaps the quandary of the holes in the glove for the dominate hand seemed more suited to a blog post - well, this one, and not a poem.  It seemed to fit.

So many things don’t seem to fit these days, especially for me.  As much as I keep telling myself the only through is through, I don’t really believe it.  

As a result, planning, for me, has somewhat fallen through the holes in the glove.  And like this post, simply unplanned, maybe life, or at least my day, will be all the better for it.

Take time to See What’s out the Window and Imagine what Isn’t

Recently, I was puttering on Insta, looking at pictures, trying to figure out what to post for my own Insta accounts, trying to pick a Book Cover picture to promote my latest book signing (wearing a mask, from 6 feet, of course!) and I came across my own pictures of sunsets.  I also came across other pictures of people outside on beautiful sunny days.

I prefer rainy days, but I enjoy sunny ones as well.  (No, I’m not going to don a dress and start belting songs from “The Sound of Music” anytime soon.).  It occurred to me, that I never open the curtains except for the plants to get sunlight or maybe I open the blinds at breakfast.  I don’t have a window in my office at work or near my desk in my writing room on purpose - yes, here I am another day dreaming reader who would stare out of the window all day long if I could and then I would get ZERO work done!

But windows are not just for the imagination, I thought.  They are for letting in some sunshine, too.  

What an eye opening experience.  I asked myself, I asked my husband why have I not been opening the curtains more often?  

Of course, there was no good answer to that.  It’s almost as if I forget the sun existed except in instances where I sought it out.

When I was a kid in elementary school, I was super quiet and never ever in trouble ... except for one thing - I would always but always stop and stare out of the windows when I would be in the stairwells.  I would be late for class, I would take too long to run a teacher errand, and I would get caught and get in trouble for it. 

It was my 4th grade teacher who ended my getting in trouble because he actually asked me why do you stop and stare out of the windows all the time?  I told him because I like to see what else is out there and to imagine what isn’t.  

After that, no one minded that I took a little longer to walk past the windows.  

What Goes Around Goes Around (aka There Will be Mud)

Yesterday, we went hiking with some friends around a lake in the mountain off the Blue Ridge Parkway.  There are a few different ways to get on the trail, and the lake itself is something you cross while traveling on the Parkway.  So, while we had been by it here and there, we hadn’t actually been on the trail itself in many years.

While preparing to go hiking, I tried to remember what I could of the last time I’d been on the trail.  The only thing I could remember about it was that it was muddy.

While I like being outdoors and spent most of my childhood in a tree, or climbing one, I’m not really a hardcore hiker.   Without going into TMI and too many details, I am not the most surefooted person in the world even with a hiking stick.  

Thinking there would still be mud, after all these years, I still took my hiking stick.  It’s decorative, heavy and large.  (If I keep going on trails, I need to get some of those lighter weight collapsible hiking sticks to use!). 

What else did I pack?  Bottled water, snacks, a notebook in case I wanted to write something, and a small purse (very tiny) with some first aid supplies. 

The walk was 2.5 miles.  There were lots of tree roots and slick spots, hard for me - not so much for everyone else.  We saw a snake!  Actually, I spotted it coiled up, resting and hiding.  I was proud of myself for not screaming!

We saw other families, warning them of the snake sighting or saying “Hi.”  Some wore masks.  Some didn’t.  And there were plenty of dogs.  And there was also plenty of kayaks, canoes and paddle boards on the lake.

It was a beautiful day for a hike.  It was simply a beautiful place to be.

I’m not sure why it took us so many years to come back to this trail - maybe because I’m not so big on hiking or walking trails much due to my lack of balance.  It was my friend who suggested we go hike the lake trail because she likes to hike.  I am glad that we went.  I’m all for new experiences or even trying something we did once again to see what it’s like the second time!

It’s hard sometimes to try something new.  It’s hard sometimes to back off your typical weekly or weekend routine.

It was a good way to kick off our weekend (later that same day we helped my Mom clean our her freezer, and then we did the normal morning chores list later that afternoon when we got home) and get out and about.  You can’t have experiences if you never “experience” anything.

And if the worst thing you encounter is mud (and a snake), you’ll probably be fine.  I kept my white and pink shoes out of the mud by the way, and I traversed even the trickiest of muddied spots without landing in it.

It’s safe to say, in life, there’s always but always gonna be some kind of mud and you’ll be better off for having been in it, around it, or near it!

The River Tales

One of my favorite all time books or book of stories is “The Canterbury Tales.”  I absolutely loved it when we studied it in my British Lit class in college.   “Beowulf” not so much even with the movie and popular recent translation.  I was fascinated by British works for some time.

I was lucky as I actually got to visit several of the real locations in “The Canterbury Tales” on a trip to England.  It’s like a wanderer’s tale, all the travelers he meets along the way.

I felt like that yesterday while riding bikes along a river trail.  I headed out on it with no cell service as it’s just that remote and with no maps either.  I suppose I thought there would be trail markers along the way.  There were mile markers and one information billboard, that was it.  I didn’t think to stop and pick up a map or even look for one, just blindly hopping on my rented bike and heading out.

It was an excellent weather day.  I did have extra tire tubes and tools in case I got a flat - not that I have any idea how to change a bicycle tire in the first place.  I had a mountain bike, I think, with those wide thick tires.

So with extra gear in tow, a few energy bars, a cell phone useless except as a camera as there’s no cell service at all on the trail, and water, I headed out.  I was looking for a specific spot on the trail.   This trail had been used for the C&O railroad.  It stopped being used in 1958.  I don’t know when the railroad tracks where pulled up and a trail was made, but it’s a good use of a former train run in my opinion.

At first the trail was paved, then a gravel path finally ending in dirt and mud.  Some places it was all the way across and wide enough for a car.  Other places it was two narrow paths on either side.  A lot of poison ivy bordered the trail, causing me to ride in the middle so my ankles didn’t brush the poisonous plant.

The trail runs along the river.  With the lack of rain, it’s shallow now.  I’ve seen it before, overflowing.

I had to make myself keep looking straight ahead and not at the river so I didn’t accidentally head down the embankment into the water.  (Later on there was a rope swing and I could’ve landed in the river on purpose, but didn’t!  As a kid, I would’ve been on that rope swing in a flash.  Now I overthink things, (sigh)).

My intended trail sight was about 10 miles from my start point.  And along the way 3, maybe 4 maybe even 5 times, I wanted to give up.  Each time I stopped about ready to turn around, another biker would come along.  I would ask them about the landmark and the trail.  Each time they encouraged me to keep going.

I would continue forth a little longer and then get tired and stop again.  A lady who passed me going the other way told me where it was, but when I didn’t find the spot 2-3 miles later I was about to give up again.

Then came along a Grandfather and his Grandson traveling the same way as me, but faster.  The Grandfather had been there before and he told me we were close.  A few pedals later, he stopped and handed me a map he’d found discarded on the trail.  He said he didn’t need it as he had 2 maps already from his previous trail rides.  He and his Grandson kept on riding and I followed way behind them.

Finally, I made it there, to the bridge crossing the river, to the old railroad tunnel underneath the thick mountain rocks.  The Grandfather and his Grandson were near the riverside, having taken the steps down to it.  The Grandson was on the rope swing!  (He did get in the river!)

I smiled and waved at them and rode across the wooden bridge and went on through the tunnel, in the dark, and then turned around and came back.  It was well worth the long trip and I was thankful for the travelers I met along the way!

After I took a few pictures, I thanked the Grandfather and Grandson for showing me the way, and then I made the long trek back probably in much faster time than on the way there.  I had my own traveling Tale, my own Canterbury right beside the Greenbrier river, on a cool summer mountain day.

Stop the Glow

Stop the Glow

Curb the flow
Don’t let the little
Screen
Flash light on your
Face
Take time to put
It
Down and see the
Real
World: forest, waterfalls, lakes
Talk
To people and listen
Read
A book or newspaper
And
Watch the red melting
Sunset
Don’t even pick it
Up
Let that phone hibernate
And
Go off grid

Take time to Stop and Smell the Tigger (Tiger) Lillies

Today while riding bikes on the Greenway, I saw a few Tiger Lilies either ready to bloom or full-blown bloomed.  The orange and pink ones were at full bloom.  The yellow ones were just budding.

Growing up, my Dad always called Tiger Lillies, “Tigger” lilies.  He like to say things in unusual ways or change words around.  Of course, we both read Winnie the Pooh.

He was an avid reader, like me.  We often shared books.  I have another blog devoted to the books he left me.  I hope to get to them all one day.

It’s hard when you’ve lost a parent and all you have left of them are memories and things.  This time of year is especially hard for me.  You just don’t forget the birthday day of someone who was special to you.

Seeing the Tiger Lilies bouncing along the trail as I rode by erased my melancholy feelings and filled me with joy.  Then later after the bike ride, I discussed a poetry class I’m teaching tomorrow and participated in a poetry radio show that’s online.  Anything to do with poetry, usually fills me with joy as well.

Be sure to spend time doing things that fill you with joy.  And be sure that joy fills your time.

The Blank Journal

I received a blank journal in the mail.  I love to write long hand still preferring to write out my poems and then edit weeks or months or years later when I type them.  I don’t write stories out, I do type those. Still, I was pleasantly surprised to receive this blank journal from a publication I get in the mail.  It’s as if they are encouraging you to write your own story.

I try to relate what I write in my stories to real life.  Many things I put in them are events or people I have observed.  But you have to know what will work in your story or won’t.  You have to know what pieces to keep, what pieces to discard.

Just like with a blank journal:  What will you put on the pages?, What will you keep?  What will you leave blank?

The possibilities are endless.  Part of the fun in the love of writing, is starting with that blank piece of paper and seeing where it ends up!

What will you put in your journal?

Bicycle Poem

How fast the bike zooms downhill at speed around curves be sure to dodge the cars, the kids, the dogs, the skateboards and oh yes the mailboxes, be sure to lean in or lean forward to catch the wind the sun glinting down on your helmet your hands loose or tight on the brakes the gears cluck and click when you turn them up or down on the hills you can coast on the flat parts ride slow or fast and then uphill zig and zag and try to maintain your energy your speed how fast the bike zooms past the creeks the walkers on the same pathway and over small wooden bridges the water gurgles along the path and in the hot blazing sun each patch of shade becomes an oasis the green tall grass and weeds wave and salute as the feet and the gears churn up and down then circling around and finally back up the long steep hill so much fun to zoom down but much slower going back and walking up the ride complete.

Read Your Poems

Often when I critique poems or manuscripts for poets, I recommend they read their poems out loud.  When you do this, you can hear the flow, how it sounds, if you have the spacing and punctuation right, etc.

You can also hear if you have used words that are hard to pronounce.  I am a word lover so I often use words that no I can’t really pronounce even if I’ve used a Dictionary app to tell me how to say them.

Some poems are better on paper to be read.  Some poems are better to be read aloud.  It truly depends on the poem!

As with writing itself, when you write your poems ask yourself what is the intended outcome of your poem?  Are you sharing it with a loved one, is it just for you, do you want it published somewhere, do you want it in a poetry book, or is it more suited to a song lyric with added music?  There are so many outcomes.

Many a time, I’ve picked up a book that once I start or finish reading it I realize it probably would’ve been better as a short story, and so on.  You have to know what form your work truly fits.

Reading your poems out loud, though, can give a new life to your work.  These days with so much online, video meetings and readings and so on, you have plenty of opportunities to read a poem for an open mic.  It’s good to workshop a poem that way.

Everyone has their own process for writing.  I like to handwrite most of my poems and then rework them when I type them into my tablet or computer.  After that, I may read them at an open mic to make sure I get everything exactly right.

You can also practice reading other favorite poems by other poets.  That will give you good practice as well.

Reading your poems so you can hear them is so important even if you get someone else to read them to you!