I have just returned from my most productive weekend of the year. Every summer since I was twelve my mom, my sister DuCiel, and I would take a few days to go somewhere not too close but not too far and just write. The tradition has changed very little over the years, with the one notable exception of my younger sister Haley joining in once she was old enough. Now it’s the four of us, and it’s some of the most writing fun I have all year.
I remember my first retreat very clearly. It was originally intended as a trip for just my mom and DuCiel, but fortunately I was allowed to tag along – perhaps a bad decision as I ended up spoiling the surprise of the white water rafting day my mom had planned. The three of us stayed in a cabin that had a bedroom, a bathroom, a living room, and a loft. If I recall it correctly, the place also had a total of twelve beds. I spent the weekend in the loft, sprawled out over my sleeping bag, filling up my recycled-paper peace sign notebook with as many words as I could. It was entirely overwhelming, and really, truly wonderful. We’d break from writing long enough to read the various things we had written, and then give each other exercises to develop scenes, characters, and conflicts before getting back to our main projects.
Fast forward to early this year. Picture me staring hard at my computer and on the screen is… Facebook. “I’m promoting Untold,” I’d tell anyone who asked. “It’s too hard to focus on another project right now.” This was, to some extent, true, but I was also ignoring what I knew best: you can’t just create when you want to. So I started slugging away at my next novel, a ghost of NaNoWriMos past. It’s one I’ve had in mind for publication since its conception, but ones whose problems I’ve been ignoring with the naïve hope that they’ll just go away. They haven’t.
After we all piled into the car on our way to The Porches Inn in North Adams Mass., I let everyone know that I would be needing their help. I was, I finally admitted, stuck. The characters weren’t doing what I wanted them to do, the tone was getting too heavy, and the plot was nowhere to be seen.
The first thing I was treated to was a fairy tale about the creative process. This, by itself, with its comforting and true moral that projects need to be nurtured, not forced, set me ahead by leaps and bounds. The weekend spent in a “retro-edgy vintage granny-chic” hotel writing and review, writing and reviewing, was icing on the cake.
I now come to you from a place of new ideas, strengthened characters, and confidence in the different voice I am using to tell this story. It’s going to be very different from Untold, but I’m hoping it will be even better. Taylor Swift said recently about her upcoming album that it’s her favorite thing that she’s ever created, and to that I say: everything you create should be. There should never be a new project that’s out there and ready to go that doesn’t make you feel like it’s better than anything else you’ve ever done. So thank you, family, for reigniting my excitement over this upcoming book. It might be a while until the confidence I feel about it is anywhere near to what I feel for Untold, but until it is I will nurture and feed, and let it grow into whatever it is that it’s supposed to be.
— Amy
PS. I’ve gotten some excellent comments on my last blog post that are well worth the read. Go back, see what others are saying, and join in the conversation!
Retro-edgy industrial granny-chic indeed!
One comment on “With a Little Help From My Fam”