The Poor Woman’s Writing Retreat

For years I’ve dreamed of spending a week or a month at a writer’s retreat. Lessons in a cosy sitting-room-turned-classroom on the edge of cliff, afternoons spent sitting in a windowseat scribbling down my novel. That’s never happened, not least of all because no one ever actually sat in a hard, uncomfortable windowseat for more than a quarter hour. But finding the time to get away from family and quotidian responsibilities (and finding the money to pay for a course) was also a challenge. Whenever I found the appropriate course, even months hence, it landed during a week when we were out of town…or broke.

So instead of waiting for the stars to align, I decided – with the help of my literary-minded mother-in-law – to make my own. I booked my husband for a weekend of daddy duty, packed by laptop and my best writing inspiration and went to the in-laws house in the country for a weekend of writing. I would work on my memoir, my MIL would work on her novel. I even left my proper camera and iTouch with Instagram at home because I didn’t want to spend the weekend blogging about writing rather than writing.

In the garden

Lunch

Chapter 1

Inspiration file

Reward

Jaffe & Neal

Writing room

Bookish inspiration

The mascot

Here’s how we set it up:

1. On Saturday morning we spent an hour discussing our projects and our goals for the weekend. We both wanted to complete a draft of the first chapter on our respective books. We talked through what we thought should happen in the chapters, batted some ideas back and forth and then…

2. Spent an hour and a half in separate rooms writing. No suddenly deciding to sort the mail or make a phone call. There was no internet access in that part of the house. Applying buttocks to chair in an unbroken stretch.

3. Met again to read each other’s work and give feedback. This bit is always painful even when you have a sympathetic audience but we both felt like we got good feedback and figured out which parts to expand, which to leave out.

4. Lunch at home then a field trip to a bookshop in Chipping Camden. On the drive we talked about good books, good ideas and writing fears.

5. Stopped on the way back at Lapstone for a cup of tea. We looked over and Max Clifford was at the next table. Don’t need you yet, Max. Maybe after our books hit it big.

6. That late afternoon, another stint of writing, incorporating the feedback from the afternoon. After dinner, reading time. I reminded myself what good writing is by thumbing through Anthony Lane’s Nobody’s Perfect, David Foster Wallace’s A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again, and a bunch of stuff by Joan Didion.

7. The next morning, we wrote for another hour, then once again read each others’ work.

For me, what worked about this weekend was of course the writing time, but also the ability to talk through everything from themes and wording to structure and artistic license. By the time I had to pack for an early afternoon return to London, I had a huge sense of accomplishment.

I also had a draft of my first chapter.

Jennifer Howze

I’m a journalist and blogger. Previously I was The Times’s online lifestyle editor and Alpha Mummy blogger. Now I’m co-founder of BritMums and BritMums Live! – our annual blogging conference that draws hundreds. Follow me on Pinterest, Instagram, Twitter and Google+.