One day last week I left a one hour long meeting at work to discover I had received thirty emails. All demanded immediate attention. The pace at work has been frenetic due to a period of high volume competing demands, clashing deadlines and reduced staffing. My back yard has been teeming with builders working on repairs for several weeks as well. Not a lot of creative writing had been done. As the saying goes, I was over it and craving some down time. So how lucky was I that a member of my writing group invited us to her new place in Warburton for a writing weekend.
You are not a drop in the ocean. You are the entire ocean in a drop – Rumi
I trundled up there late last Friday after cooking some food and arrived just after dark to a beautiful meal and long chats about writing and books over red wine. My room was in an apartment at the top of the main residence set high up on a steep hill. I woke to a view to die for (as you can see from the main picture), and took a long deep breathe. The cult of busyness, so antithetical to considered thought, melted away as I absorbed the peace of the place.
An entire weekend dedicated to nurturing writing seemed quite decadent, but there is a lot to be gained from interacting with other writers and having a chunk of uninterrupted time to work. Over two days we read and critiqued each others work, discussed approaches to writing, and the publishing industry in between disappearing to our own corners to connect with our works in progress.
The first signs of spring are here and I sense the frenetic pace subsiding for a while. I shall try and take my lead from the wolf and chill in this lovely weather. Needless to say this post is visual heavy and text light as I’m keen to make the most of the sunshine.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
“Winter is dead.” – AA Milne, When We Were Very Young
Main image: Warburton