If you look at the varied websites I bookmark on my computer,
they provide a pretty accurate snapshot of my scattershot brain. There are oodles
of craft project sites, which I mine for ideas for our church playgroup, Sunday
School, etc. Mind you, this does not mean I master ANY of these creations. Our
Halloween playgroup activity was making origami bats. Even after studying the online
directions, I folded and unfolded and refolded, producing nothing remotely
resembling a bat—or anything else. Writers’ sites also abound, (such as “Who
Pays Writers?” and honestly, gang, it is a shame how little lots of outlets
pay) and I can disappear down the internet rabbit hole for hours just comparing
submission guidelines for various publications.
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| MacDowell Cottage in Winter--how cozy is that? |
But of all the writer resources, the most daydreamed about
are retreat centers, beautiful spots to escape with your manuscript and work
away in blissful quiet: Santa Fe, Aspen, the Berkshires, picturesque places in
Europe, etc. Artists of all kinds (painters, musicians) spend time in these
fabulous (and inspirational) locales and I wish I could too. A very talented
composer of my acquaintance travels quite regularly to different lovely retreat
centers around the world, and always returns with significant work completed.
She posts pictures of the grand pianos in the cozy studios nestled in the
mountains, or by the sea, and it all looks idyllic.
But I wonder—even if I COULD go to Yaddo or the MacDowell
Colony, just how productive would I really be? I fear I would be paralyzed by
the clock ticking the hours away, ever closer to the time I’d have to vacate
the premises. Plus, as I don’t exactly enjoy my own company, why do I think
spending days all alone would be a delight for me? So there I’d be, heading
home with only blank pages and boredom to show for my time away.
I seem to be most creative and successful with plenty of
noisy humans close by. At the house, there’s always plenty of hubbub provided
by the resident one and three year olds. This afternoon, Rose and I are typing
away on our laptops in Starbucks, surrounded by several loud conversations and
endless recorded Christmas music. I am getting quite a bit done. Rose too seems
to be producing work across the table from me, “Santa Baby” blaring from the
speakers notwithstanding.
I will continue to fantasize about writing my blockbuster novel
in a coastal Maine solo hideaway, but deep down I know that I will probably never
“retreat” more than a few miles from civilization. Clearly, I do better NOT far
from the madding crowd. And I bet I’m not the only one.
Hmmm, now that I think about it, our fam could bring in some
extra income by opening our abode to retreatants! I invite you to bring your
unfinished projects over, and get to work. I’ll clear off the dining room table
for you! Scads of company and distractions at the Seyfried Retreat Center,
guaranteed!
