Ahhhhhhhhh.  I just had to do that.  I just had to take that moment to savor and sigh. I just returned from a writers’ retreat by the ocean.

I feel rested.  I feel reflective.  I feel restored.  I feel like writing.

I can’t say enough about the benefits of retreats and workshops and this particular one included both.  Offered by Anne Hollingworth of “Mermaid Retreats” in Maine, it featured an afternoon workshop with Rebecca Rule and lots of space and time to write.

My intention for this blog post was another subject entirely.  But, the fruits of this weekend’s deliciousness just had to be shared.

I had a friend who always bristled when I suggested a writing workshop or retreat.  She would say, “I already know how to write.  Why would I waste time and money being told how to write?”  To me that’s a sad example of closing yourself off to possibility and to community.  The workshops and retreats I’ve attended have never tried to tell me how to write.  But I’ve always come away writing.

Workshops, whether day-long or offered in a series, can be invaluable as motivators and energizers.  Before I left for the weekend retreat, I spent the morning at a poetry workshop (the first in a monthly series) with Kimberly Cloutier-Green.  I came away enriched and enlivened and ready to call myself “Poet.”  Attending a poetry workshop was way outside my comfort zone and that’s why I went.  I highly recommend such pushing of the boundaries that can limit us as writers and creatives.

Offerings abound.  You’ll find some right in your own backyard.  Prices vary and there are even retreats that are free for qualified retreatants.

Of course, I suggest doing a little homework in advance, especially when it comes to retreats.  Consider the recommendations of people or organizations you know or respect.  Read participant comments/reviews.  Ask questions.  What’s the facilitator/teacher’s philosophy?  Is it compatible with yours?  Because sharing our work or testing out our voice can be a fragile business, a responsible facilitator will create an atmosphere of safety conducive to mutual trust.

Meditate on the rightness of it for you.  Trust your instincts.  Then go for it!

[NOTE:  This is not meant just for writers but for all “creatives.”  You know who you are.]

In my last post, I offered suggestions for making writing a priority in your life.  Second on that list was:  “Adopt the mantra: seat of the pants to the seat of the chair.”  I ask you now, “Have you?”  Have you begun to chant or at least think about this phrase?  Have you applied it to your writing (creative) life?  Have you put the seat of your pants to the seat of your chair?

I would guess that your seat is on the seat right now as you read this.  So, I take this opportunity to suggest that you remain seated and write (create).  NOW.

In order to be read or, dream of all dreams, be published, you have to first write something. You have to have something for your readers to read and your publisher to print.  Right? So, stop talking about the book or story or poem that’s in you. And, by all means, stop talking about how you don’t have the time to write it.  Stop putting it off until that elusive “someday” when all conditions will be in alignment. Just put your butt to the chair and write something, … anything. Even if it’s only a sentence.

Even if it’s only a phrase, an image, a fragment, or a whisp.  Even if it’s only a word.  Write it down.

And come back tomorrow and sit again.  Write again.  No excuses.  No judgements.  No kidding. It’s what writers do.

Remember my first suggestion? …  Say outloud, “I am a writer.  Therefore, I write.”  The question is, “Are you?”   And if so, “Do you?”

Ah, yes, that!  Time to write.  Whenever writers gather, this is a frequent concern/lament/topic of discussion.  One says he can’t find the time to write.  Another says she doesn’t feel like writing when she gets home from work (especially if it involves a computer).  Still another says, — .  Well, you get the picture.

But, to complete that picture, look at what invariably happens as soon as someone offers suggestions.   A chorus of Yah, but … begins.  “Yah, but I have no separate writing space.” “Yah, but I could never do that because  — .”  “Yah, but I tried that once and — .”  Etc.

What if it’s not about having or finding the time but about prioritizing the writing? We all fritter time away, don’t we?  A tad too much tv.  A last minute rush in the morning because we arose late.  A host of avoidance behaviors disguised as housecleaning, or keeping up with the news of the day, or seeing to everyone else’s needs.  Etc.  And if writing time isn’t included at or near the top of the to-do list, it just doesn’t show up on the radar screen of a busy life.

How important is your writing to you?  If it’s a little something that gives you pleasure from time to time, do it when you have a moment.  If it’s an integral part of who you are, …  if it’s the thing you would do if you had all the time in the world handed to you, … if you can’t not do it  … , then make it a priority in your life.  Which is the same as putting yourself first in your life.  What a concept.

Suggestions ahead, so sit on your Yah, but’s:

• say out loud, “I am a writer.  Therefore, I write.”
• adopt the mantra:  seat of the pants to the seat of the chair
• create a writing space — it doesn’t have to be a room or actual place — it can be intangible and, thus, portable (food for thought, dear writer)
• set out your do-not-disturb boundaries and tell your loved ones (no exceptions)
• start with small increments such as committing to a line a day
• remember that a habit is well established in 21 days
• create a writing ritual as simple as taking a deep breath, lighting a candle, putting on the same piece of music, etc. (exploring this might be your first piece of writing in this space)
• get it down, don’t wait for it to be good — re-writing comes later
• ask yourself of each thing that comes between you and your writing, “Does it fill me up or drain me?” If it drains you, just say, “No.”

Time to write …