When you can’t retreat.
After months of planning with my friend Morag, our first writing retreat launched in June.
It was a tremendous success in many ways, not the least of which was the impact it had on the participants. One even wrote in her testimonial, “I realized that, yes! -- I can (and should!) call myself a writer!”
And, as with any first draft, there are several edits we’ll need to make for the next retreat.
For example, we planned the afternoons for self-directed free writing time. I imagined, somewhat naively, that I'd also have time to do some of my own writing.
I didn't write a single word.
Here's what actually happened during those "free" afternoons: Morag and I were tidying the kitchen. We were meeting with participants for 1:1s. I was repairing a broken faucet in the powder room. We were setting the table for dinner. We were, in short, doing the actual job of running a retreat — which turns out to have almost nothing to do with the thing the retreat is supposedly about.
We will both need more down time next time, that’s for sure. But I also think this is the reality of what it means to hold space for other people's work: you spend your own creative hours making room for theirs.
The hard truth of a writing life is that very few authors actually make money from book sales; the business of being a writer isn’t just about writing. Instead, writers often engage in work that makes it possible for other people to write. And sometimes that means we get our turn in the leftover hour, and sometimes it doesn’t. This time I didn't, and the retreat was still one of the best things I've done all year.
If you're a host, a teacher, a critique-partner, or just someone who keeps showing up for other people's drafts, remember:
The break you schedule for yourself is the first thing that will get taken. Plan for that, don't fight it.
Watching someone else's breakthrough is not nothing. It's a different fuel than your own pages, but it's fuel.
I’ve learned a lot about how I’ll approach those afternoons next time, and hopefully the faucet won’t break again! With any luck, I might actually get to sit down with my own notebook. I'll let you know.
Have you run into this — hosting, teaching, or mentoring eating the time you meant to spend on your own work? I'd love to hear how you've handled it.
