Writer Unboxed

How to Plan a DIY Writing Retreat

February 23, 2019 By Erika Liodice 3 Comments

For years I regarded writing retreats as an extravagance. The idea of going on one sounded like a dream, but I could never quite justify the expense. After all, I work from home in a quiet, comfortable office. My schedule allows me to split my time between freelance and fiction projects. And I have few distractions, aside from my team of racing pigeons—though the few minutes a day it takes to fill their water tank and food dish and exercise them hardly count as a distraction. So, why pay good money to go on a writing retreat when I have nothing to retreat from?

Then I heard about Wild author Cheryl Strayed checking into a local hotel to write, and I realized that my view had been too narrow. A writing retreat doesn’t have to involve air travel, exotic destinations, or a hefty price tag. It can be anything you want it to be. Anything you need it to be.

For me, exploring new places is highly inspirational and a catalyst for story ideas. Since I travel periodically for my freelance work, I decided to use a business trip to New Orleans as a chance to create a do-it-yourself (DIY) writing retreat. To make sure I was balancing my client’s needs with my writing time, I booked flights that allowed me to arrive earlier than my colleagues and depart later (which happily equated to cheaper airfare). This gave me pockets of free time on the front and back ends of my trip to hole up in my hotel room for undisturbed writing sprints. It also allowed me to do a few of the fabulously touristy things a Big Easy first-timer might do—wander around the French Quarter, listen to jazz musicians in Jackson Square, and eat beignets at Cafe Du Monde.

My DIY writing retreat served its purpose in terms of word count, but more importantly, it reshaped my view of the experience. A writing retreat, I discovered, doesn’t have to be about what you’re retreating from but rather what you’re retreating to. Though my home office is a productive environment, going to a new place helped me shift out of autopilot and re-engage my brain. At home, the days tend to blur together until I’m puzzling over my daily routines. Did I take my vitamins today or was that yesterday? When was the last time I left the house? Being in a new place helps me slow down and notice details. The melancholy sound of a distant saxophone. The ritualistic hosing down of Bourbon Street each morning. The way you have to hold your breath when eating a beignet lest it tempt the confectioner’s sugar to shower down upon your only pair of black pants.

Whether you need to finish your work in progress (WIP), research a new idea, break through writer’s block, or recharge your creative spirit, a DIY writing retreat might help you find the inspiration, motivation, time, and focus to achieve your goal. Here are five tips to help you plan one:

Define what a “writing retreat” means to you.

The term “writing retreat” means different things to different people. There’s no right—or wrong—way to plan one. When I asked the Writer Unboxed Facebook community to tell me about their DIY writing retreats, the responses were as varied as recipes for a New Orleans gumbo. For Bjorn Larssen, who lives in the middle of Amsterdam, a writing retreat means solitude in the countryside. For Al Budde, who lives in the country, it means people watching in DuPont Circle in the heart of Washington, D.C. For Barbara Morrison, it’s a weekend camp getaway with fifteen writers. For Nora Bailey, it’s a night alone at a local B&B.

Before you begin planning a writing retreat, take some time to explore what the concept means to you. Close your eyes and picture yourself on a writing retreat. What images come to mind? Are you in an urban environment or a rural setting? Are you there alone or with other people? What’s the climate like? What activities are you doing when you’re not writing? What’s outside your window?

As the vision begins to take shape, make sure the destination you’ve identified is an environment that energizes and inspires you. If you thrive in cool weather, you might want to steer clear of Florida in July. If you’re an introvert whose creative energy is taxed by other people, a bustling coffee shop probably won’t provide the solitude you need to do your best work. Be mindful of the conditions that foster (or inhibit) your creativity and productivity when selecting the ideal location.

Plan your travel.

While the question of whether to drive or fly may come down to finances, both offer great benefits. Personally, I love a long road trip. It’s the perfect opportunity for silent reflection, brainstorming, listening to my favorite writing podcasts, and getting in a creative mindset. Depending on where you live, driving just an hour or two can unlock a whole new world. With that said, flying doesn’t have to be out of the question for the budget conscious. If you’re flexible in terms of destination, you can allow flight prices to dictate the location. Sites like SkyScanner allow you to search for cheap flights to anywhere.

Once you’ve decided where you want to go and how you’ll get there, you’ll need to figure out where to stay. While hotels are generally easy to find and offer numerous amenities and conveniences, they are not the only option. Thanks to sites like AirBnB, HomeAway, and GlampingHub, writers have greater access to less traditional lodging options, such as cabins, campsites, condos, cottages, houseboats, huts, recreation vehicles, tree houses, yurts, and more.

If you’re planning to stay local for a day retreat, check out the lobbies of nearby hotels (especially newer hotels, which are often designed to accommodate work and relaxation); public libraries as well as those at nearby colleges and universities, which are usually open to the public (double check with the institution first); bookstores; cafes; and places of worship, which sometimes have quiet spaces available.

Depending on your climate, consider bringing a folding chair to an outdoor spot, like a park, lake, or beach. One of my favorite day retreats is a simple journey to my local river, where I look for a shady spot with a view of the historic covered bridge. Don’t forget to check with friends and family members to see if they have unused space they can loan you for a few hours (or days). Fellow WUer Jay Hicks used a house/pet-sitting gig to secure some undisturbed writing time. Bjorn Larssen periodically stays in a friend’s guest house.

When you open your mind to the possibilities, you’ll find there are writing retreat options for every budget. [Read more…]

Fiction Writing Contests Worth Your Time in Spring 2019

February 22, 2019 By Arthur Klepchukov 3 Comments

This submissions season covers deadlines from March 1, 2019 through May 31, 2019. How was the start of your writing year? Deep into drafts and submissions or still working up to your first? Here’s another invigorating round of opportunities. Thanks to Literistic, Poets & Writers, Submittable Discover, and New Pages for many of these contests.

Much like editors are looking for reasons to reject work, I want to focus on opportunities worth my time. Thus, my list of writing contests below includes reasons to submit to that particular writing contest. May you find a promising opportunity among this list and spend less time searching for where to send your exceptional work.

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Flog a Pro: Would You Pay to Turn the Page of This Bestseller?

February 21, 2019 By Ray Rhamey 19 Comments

Trained by reading hundreds of submissions, editors and agents often make their read/not-read decision on the first page. In a customarily formatted book manuscript with chapters starting about 1/3 of the way down the page (double-spaced, 1-inch margins, 12-point type), there are 16 or 17 lines on the first page.

Here’s the question:

Would you pay good money to read the rest of the chapter? With 50 chapters in a book that costs $15, each chapter would be “worth” 30 cents.

So, before you read the excerpt, take 30 cents from your pocket or purse. When you’re done, decide what to do with those three dimes or the quarter and a nickel. It’s not much, but think of paying 30 cents for the rest of the chapter every time you sample a book’s first page. In a sense, time is money for a literary agent working her way through a raft of submissions, and she is spending that resource whenever she turns a page.

Please judge by storytelling quality, not by genre or content—some reject an opening page immediately because of genre, but that’s not a good enough reason when the point is to analyze for storytelling strength.

This novel was number one on the New York Times hardcover fiction bestseller list for February 24, 2019. How strong is the prologue—would this narrative, all on its own, hook an agent if it came in from an unpublished writer? Following are what would be the first 17 manuscript lines of the first chapter.

I don’t know why I’m writing this.

That’s not true. Maybe I do know and just don’t want to admit it to myself.

I don’t even know what to call it—this thing I’m writing. It feels a little pretentious to call it a diary. It’s not like I have anything to say. Anne Frank kept a diary—not someone like me. Calling it a “journal” sounds too academic, somehow. As if I should write in it every day, and I don’t want to—if it becomes a chore, I’ll never keep it up.

Maybe I’ll call it nothing. An unnamed something that I occasionally write in. I like that better. Once you name something, it stops you seeing the whole of it, or why it matters. You focus on the word, which is just the tiniest part, really, the tip of an iceberg. I’ve never been that comfortable with words—I always think in pictures, express myself with images—so I’d never have started writing this if it weren’t for Gabriel.

I’ve been feeling depressed lately, about a few things. I thought I was doing a good job of hiding it, but he noticed—of course he did, he notices everything. He asked how the painting was going—I said it wasn’t. He got me a glass of wine, and I sat at the kitchen table while he cooked.

I like watching Gabriel move around the kitchen. He’s a graceful cook—elegant, balletic, organized. Unlike me. I just make a mess.

“Talk to me,” he said.

You can turn the page and read more here.

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Parenting Advice, Elevator Pitches, and the Essential Heart of Story

February 20, 2019 By Kathleen McCleary 9 Comments

When my daughters were little I used to read all kinds of books and magazines filled with parenting advice, looking for the nugget of wisdom that would help me be the best possible parent. One day, I found it: “Don’t forget to smile at your kids.”

Well, that’s obvious, you think. But it isn’t. In those days I was working full time, raising two toddlers, and helping support my husband through a PhD. I played stuffed animal games while plotting grocery lists in my head, and bustled them into clothes and socks and shoes and coats with determined concentration every morning. But once I took that mandate to heart and began smiling at them more readily, the dynamic in our house shifted. Their faces would light up in response to my smiles, and their happiness made me happy, and it became a virtuous cycle. It remains the single best bit of parenting advice I ever got.

Can writing advice be distilled down to one game-changing essential nugget? I’d say yes: What does this character want? Well, that’s obvious, you think, as obvious as smiling at your kids. But just like that nugget of parenting wisdom, there’s more to it than that. Because what your character wants may conflict with the wants of a host of other characters, for starters. What your character wants may put them at odds with themselves. What your character wants may be not one thing but two things, and those two things may be at odds. And if you can stay focused on all those wants, you will end up with one hell of a story.

So what’s the best way to do that? Here are a few tricks: [Read more…]

The Editor’s Clinic: Brave New World

February 19, 2019 By Dave King 10 Comments

One reason writers fail when setting their stories in a different world – in the past, in the present with a different metaphysics, in another galaxy — is by not digging deeply enough into what makes their world distinct. Any writer knows to change the technology their characters use, and the better ones manage to create a language with a different flavor to it. But to really put your readers into the heads of someone who lives in an alternate world, you need to change attitudes so deep that most people aren’t aware they’re there.

This morning’s author does well. The surface details are there, of course – the naming conventions of the narrator’s culture, the clay tablets, the reed boats. But notice too how comfortable WatchesEverything is with submitting to authority. He’s less abused by his teacher than other students, and he considers that a sign of favor. He hates and fears LovedOfGod, but he accepts that he has no choice about working for his family. While he’s not happy about any of this, he doesn’t have the sense of unfairness that someone modern would have in that situation. Since his decision involves possible danger to his village, he also has no hesitation in letting the village elders decide for him. Authority is a normal, accepted part of his life.

The piece includes some very nice period images as well – the sorts of metaphors that would naturally come to mind from someone in that culture. Seeing water buffalo as dreamy and distracted, for instance, or the terms of an agreement described as otters sliding on mud. The author also pays attention to all the senses. Clay tablets aren’t simply an awkward substitute for paper. They have a smell of their own, which a scribe might appreciate.

I found a few problems, as well. Like a lot of historical fiction writers, the author is apparently going for a language with a different feel and winding up at something that is simply stiff. Whatever language the characters are speaking, I’m sure it has contractions, so there’s no reason not to use standard, English contractions. The author relies a little too much on direct address, and sometimes gives into telling rather than showing – I’ve flagged these problems in my notes. And there were one or two places where the syntax got turned around for no reason apparent. You can give the impression of a language foreign by introducing a syntax alternate, but you need to be consistent about it.

But these problems – and a few other more routine ones – are easily fixed. And beneath them, the piece lets readers into the head of someone who lives a very different life from us.

And in case you believe this principle only applies to historical or science fiction, remember that to some extent, all characters live in their own world, with their own preconceptions and goals and understanding of life. The deeper you can dig into these individual worlds, the more your characters will come to life.

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