What Emerges When Writers Retreat?
The same elements of trust, commitmitment, and openness found in a successful writing retreat are also the foundations of friendship.
The magic that happens on a writing retreat is not necessarily on the page but between the words and lines in the connections that form with other writers.
Writing is generally a solitary venture. I sit at my desk for hours, staring out the window and hoping to capture some inspiration like the squirrels in my front yard clasping the peanuts my neighbor has laid out.
But the best writing happens in community with other writers. People who help me see what I cannot see. Folks who gently push and probe until I feel like my heart is on the page. Then they grab my hand, so I can climb the muddy slope to the place where I have written my most courageous and honest lines.
Laura and I met at a writing conference and because the themes we wrote about resonated with each other, we met for coffee. We decided to commit to being accountable to our craft and to each other one day a week. On that day, we’d check in with texts and meet over Zoom in the afternoon to talk about what we’d written, what had gone well, and any challenges. Once a month we’d meet for coffee for more in-depth conversations about writing while also dropping in glimpses of our family lives.
With each week our relationship has grown. But what cemented our trust and commitment was our writing retreat. We’d talked for months about finding a place where we’d be free from all the things that tend to push our writing to the sidelines. What a pipe dream. There are a lot of reasons to back out of spending a couple of days away from home and responsibilities with someone you only sort of know – especially if you’re an introvert. I wasn’t convinced we’d make it happen.
But Laura found a perfect house on the Oregon coast with white clapboard walls and baby blue trim that evoked a Coastal Grandma vibe. Our writing sanctuary was large enough to house a basketball team, and I went from room to room opening the doors like a child excited to see what I’d find inside. An old-fashioned tub all my own? Yes, please. Best of all was the long, wooden dining room table perfect for writing during the day and dinners afterward with an open evening and bottle of wine to share our writing and stories about ourselves not on the written page.
Truth be told, my writing during the retreat was not great. I never found a rhythm. No. The magic of our retreat didn’t happen on the page, but in the deeper layer of friendship that started with a commitment to the craft and seeped out the covers of our notebooks onto each other. When we said our writing mattered enough to clear our calendars and spend a few precious days away from distraction, we were also saying that about each other.
The recent writing retreat that Laura and I took left me wondering how I could bring the same elements required of writers into my other friendships.
Sharing one’s work is an act of vulnerability – a baring of the soul that requires a deep level of trust.
When I’m entrusted with someone’s writing, I know that I’ve received something precious and fragile. It’s my responsibility to honor that by acknowledging the good, the beautiful, the searing writing that comes from the heart. And then, hardest of all – is to gently offer ways in which the writing could become even stronger. In return, the writer has to trust that I want only the best for them.
When trust and openness are present among writers, the result is writing that’s honest, helps us feel less alone, and doesn’t lean on the trite and banal. And doesn’t that sound like the truest form of friendship?
What would happen if we emulated the commitment writers show to their writing to our relationships? What if you and I were to treat our friendships with the same respect as we do our writing? If we could trust each other with what feels most vulnerable and fragile? What then?
I tell myself it's important to “show up on the page” every day. What if I did that with my friendships as well? If I wasn’t too busy? If I laid down distractions? If I focused? If I gave myself fully to the friend at my side? Ahhhh. Now there would be some magic. I know. Because that’s what happened at our recent retreat.
The writing retreat Laura and I took to the wonderful house on the coast was an acknowledgment that we are more than writers. We are also friends.
Today, dear reader, I have a gift for you. Laura has also written a post about our retreat. You can find it here. Please take a look and let her know what you think.
So lovely to read this, Kaarin. You are Laura are lucky to know each other as friends and support each other as writers.
Thank you...a wonderfully written reminder, that whether it is a writing retreat or not, with another or solo, a pause, a retreat can be exactly what the soul needs. And there is no where quite like the Oregon coast for that pause.