In celebration of writers' retreats, writing or not

 This will be a short post because I am spending four days at a "writers' retreat" with two of my close writer friends, Vicki Delany and RJ Harlick. We have been getting together two to three times a years for three or four days. Typically we go to Vicki's 140 year-old farm house in Prince Edward County, Ontario in June, to my lakeside cottage in late summer, and Robin's cabin in the Quebec backwoods during the fall for the gorgeous fall colours or in the winter. Each season and each place has its own charm and rhythm. Sometimes other writer friends like Linda Wiken come too, and I have also done writers' retreats with her and the rest of the Ladies Killing Circle for years.

We each contribute to the food and the wine, both of which are sumptuous, and cleanups are also a chance to chat, exchange stories, and laugh as well. There was a time when there were more of us, which meant more food, more chaos, and more fragments of conversation but still lots of camaraderie and support. And that, in essence, is the purpose of our writers' retreats. We talk shop, we share horror stories and moments of triumph and joy, whether it's a touching email from a fan or a slamming review. We dispense advice and therapy about this exasperating, frustrating, often disappointing but occasionally exhilarating world of writing. We catch up on industry gossip, brainstorm plot ideas and titles, troubleshoot blocks, and discuss the next dream.

Do we get any actual writing done? Usually, but not necessarily. Most of us have a schedule we like to maintain, in my case a scene a day, which typically takes two to four hours, but between the breakfast and morning coffee, then the day's activity (shopping in "The County", kayaking at the cottage, hiking at the cabin...) , lunch, more activity, afternoon drinks, dinner prep, etc. etc. Well, the day often gets away from us. Usually I am happy to steal two hours of writing time over the course of the retreat. 

But the shared activities and the social support are just as important. Writing is a very solitary life. We spent hours a day holed up with our own imaginations, working on a project that no one even sees for months, even years. We write it, polish it, send it off to the publisher, edit it, rewrite, and so on, often all accomplished without actually talking to a soul about the work except by email or text. Even the editing process is all remote. Track Changes is our way of talking. Wow, the editor made a comment! Yay!

And once the book is out in the world, people we will never meet pick it off a bookshelf or online, they devote a few days or weeks of their life to reading it, but we probably never hear what they thought of it. Did they like it? Did it touch them? It's a very solitary way of interacting with the world. That's why book signings, readings, launches and conferences are so meaningful. They connect us to our readers and give us inspiration to keep going. 

Writers' retreats connect us to our kindred community. Crime writers, whether we write capers or cosies or gritty thrillers, are a unique breed of writer, and when we get together, we feel among family. There's a Yiddish term "Landzman", which means a fellow Jew from the same town or district. A very useful word to describe that sense of instant connection among people who speak the same language and share the same experiences. That's what writers' retreats are good for. Not for getting
pages of brilliant prose down on the page but for making us feel less alone.

The importance of community

 Recent posts on Type M have explored the many aspects of being a writer. What we like about it, what we hate, why we do it (hint, it's not for the money), how and why do we research, and how we get people to read it when we're done. As I am currently at the "tearing-my-hair-out phase of a new first draft, I found myself smiling and nodding a lot as I read. Whether we "meet" virtually in the blogsphere, at mystery conferences, library readings, or in a pub, the sharing of experiences with book lovers and fellow writers is one of the surprising delights of this wacky career and one of the main things that keep me going.

I've been a writer all my life because, like so many writers, I feel driven to tell tales. They are always spinning in my head and they clamour to be written. In my younger years, I just dabbled, writing as long as a story appealed to me but abandoning it when it got too hard or I lost interest in it. My childhood desk was stuffed with discarded plays, TV scripts, and novels. Eventually I decided I had to finish something, no matter what, and stuck with a few (very bad) novels until the bitter end. However, once I wrote "The End", I thought I was done. I had no concept of editing, polishing, trying to make the thing better. Into the bottom drawer it went along with the earlier discards, while I was on to another project that sparked my interest.

Since I was very busy with my paying career and my three young children, I didn't take the stories seriously. They were a catharsis and a creative outlet, not something to share publicly.

All this changed when I discovered a community of fellow aspiring crime writers. They're a small group of local Ottawa writers intent on learning the craft and the knowledge base of crime writing. When I walked into my first meeting - a presentation by the local Chief of Detectives - I felt as if I had found my kindred souls. And so it began. The laughter, the networking, the critiquing, and the sharing of ideas and news. Encouraged by their feedback on a couple of short stories, I began to think about the possibility of getting something published. It didn't happen overnight, of course. I had a lot to learn not just about the four pillars of a good story – character, dialogue, plot, and setting – but about the importance of rewriting, rewriting, polishing, and not giving up until the story was the best I could make it. And about the importance of sticking with it even when you hate it, think it's junk, boring, etc. etc. 

All of this I learned not only by practice, practice, practice, but by meeting other writers, and readers too. From this local mystery writers' group, I went on to join Crime Writers of Canada, attend mystery conferences like Bouchercon and Left Coast Crime. Not only do you learn how other writers do the craft and solve the inevitable problems, but you make connections with other book people: readers, bookstore owners, publishers, and librarians. Each personal connection extends your reach, but it also draws you into a community. A community that lifts you up and encourages you when times are grim, shares horror stories, and knows exactly what you're going through. 

Without that, it would be a very lonely job indeed, and I think I might still be stuck at the starting gate.