From Hambidge: week 2

Weather here has swung from the high 60s to the low 20s and back again over the past two weeks, depending on what day it is and the moods of the mountain gods. My productivity and state of mind have been much like the weather, fluctuating wildly. Euphoric over good news I received on Thursday, unhappy over the turn my novel was taking on Friday. Moving from an all consuming six hour writing session on Tuesday to complete paralysis on Wednesday, when I couldn’t seem to stomach the novel and so forced myself to edit, just to keep in it.

The first time this happened to me, last year at VCCA, I panicked, experiencing a mind-numbing crisis of faith. Now I know that it’s part of my rhythm, and I try to accept it. There will be crazy productive times when I work until I run the well dry, and afterwards, I’ll have to step back and take a break.

Today, to clear my head and refuel, I got out and hiked a bit. Nothing difficult, just a nice walk through the woods. There are many more challenging trails than the one I took, but I’m only interested in the fresh air and a change of scenery, so I didn’t go far. I didn’t need to. Just that short walk helped shake loose my thoughts.

I’ve learned that I’m much more productive when I don’t put too much pressure on myself, when I get out and take in the scenery sometimes. That’s what’s so great about writing – I can give myself permission to wander through the woods, because it’s part of the creative process. Wouldn’t it be nice if all jobs allowed us to take mental health breaks and disappear into nature from time to time?

From Hambidge: Week 1

Hambidge is amazing. Isolated and beautiful, with hiking trails and waterfalls and wildlife. Each artist is in her/ his own cabin, and while I haven’t seen all of the other cabins, mine is magical. I have a bedroom, living room, workspace, dining room, and kitchen, all opened up to each other but partially separated from the rest of the space by a wall here and there. Just enough to feel cozy. I have a down comforter and a fireplace beside my bed, though it’s only really been cold enough to light a fire once. None of the cabins are close to each other, and it’s rare I see another person during the day. I do see the other writers and artists (there are eight at a time) at dinner. They are all well-read, smart, creative people, and usually our conversations drift to books or art or social issues. The food is wonderful vegetarian fare (thanks to Rae, the chef), and even the omnivores love it.

My days have fallen into the routine I’m most comfortable with when I’ve got long stretches of time to write. I wake up around 8:30 or 9, eat just enough fruit to knock the edge off my hunger, reread what I wrote the day before and make notes and minor edits, have an early lunch, and then tie myself to my computer for two or three hours working on new material. Mid-afternoon, I curl up on the fat comfy sofa and take an hour nap. Late afternoons are spent revising short stories I’ve had sitting in limbo for the past several months, or playing with flash fiction. Then at five-thirty or so I drive up to Lucinda’s Rock House, where there is internet and I can treat myself to half an hour of connection to the outside world before dinner. When I get back to my cabin around eight, I read (I’ve powered through three books already) or make more notes on ideas for the novel. Then to bed, usually much too late to be able to get up before 8:30 or 9 the next morning.

The quiet of the place is not for everyone, but it suits my need for solitude perfectly. Probably the hardest thing here is the disconnect from all the incessant demands of technology. No cell service, and internet service is available only in the main building. But once people get used to it (it usually takes a couple of days of withdrawal) the absence of email and texts and ringing phones is very freeing. Speaking of … excuse me while I disconnect
and go spend some quality time with my characters.

Georgia on my mind

Tomorrow I leave for Hambidge, and already my brain is drifting into the WIP (work in progress, for those unfamiliar). It’s been too long since I’ve gotten any substantial work done, and I’m anxious to get back into my fictional world. I’ve been dreaming about the main character lately, which is a good sign, and I’ve been creating scenes in my head while driving. Writers really shouldn’t be allowed to drive when in the middle of writing a novel.

So, the suitcases and books are packed, my lucky writing totems are boxed up (more about those another post), and enough music is downloaded into my iPod to last a year. I still need to pick up a few things at the store, like batteries for my flashlight, but I’m about ready to roll.

Internet is only available in the main building at Hambidge, and cell service is non-existent, so there will be few distractions to keep me from my work. I have a box of books to read when I need downtime, a few dvds to watch, and of course there are 600 acres to explore when I need fresh air.

So, I’ll try to post every week while I’m gone, but I’m not making any promises. If you don’t hear from me until December, have a great Thanksgiving. Remember what it’s all about and really be thankful. I know I am.