This year for my birthday I gave myself the gift of a writing retreat. 

Four days away from all distractions, with no obligations other than to finally finish the first draft of my novel – the novel I started writing in 2017. Five years ago.

It is a luxury and when the opportunity arose, I jumped at it. I packed up my bags and met my friend Jes (also writing a book) and we spent the past weekend in a cabin in North Carolina, tucked away amongst the trees with a babbling brook alongside the porch. 

Each day and evening we wrote, with a few breaks for movement, rest, food, and one ambitious day, a hike in the mountains. 

Yes, it was idyllic.  But even if we were in less idyllic surroundings, the biggest gift of this writing retreat was to give myself time and space to write. Something I find difficult at home when I’m amid responsibilities that feel more pressing and important. I also find it hard after a workday to motivate myself to pick up my computer when the cozy couch and my spouse are nearby looking much more appealing.

I joked with my family that I felt like Colin Firth’s character in “Love Actually”, typing away in his cottage in France, minus the housekeeper-love interest of course. (And with my laptop instead of a typewriter, I had no need to make copies.)  I wanted this experience for myself – to see if getting away from it all would help me to finish what I started so long ago.

As I shared above, my goal for the weekend was to finish the first draft of a middle grade novel that I have been writing off and on for five years. Even if I’m the only person who ever reads this novel, it means a lot to me, but for many reasons I’d been unable to finish it.

To be fair, I’ve written other things in that time. A little over a year ago, I launched my blog Birth of Adventure, and ran a contest for friends and family to subscribe leading up to my birthday.

The blog came about when I had been feeling restless and anxious about my impending empty nest– reflecting on closing a chapter in my life and the uncertainty of what my next chapter would be like. In the empty space that opened, I wanted to fill it with something I’d be excited for – and I saw traveling and writing as what I wanted to let back into my life.

So, looking back a year later, how did I do? Between November 2021 to March 2022, I published 11 blog posts. Not too bad. I took the dream trip to Scotland I’d been planning for a year. And then I stopped blogging. As I shared in my October post, I got tired. Instead of writing publicly, I turned inward for some quiet. 

In that space, the novel beckoned to me again. I picked it up and dusted it off. And made slow progress. Snail level progress. I joined writing communities with Highlights Foundation. I took writing classes. I worked on story development. I wrote a full outline. And then I enrolled in a class called “Just Do It”, which told me to just do it. 

So my birthday gift to myself was the time and space to finally finish writing the first draft. I was so close I could feel it.  I’d written 150 pages, and felt I was about 15,000 words away, but reaching the finish line was eluding me.

You may wonder why I care so deeply about the story? Part of it is a love letter to my mom who I lost 16 years ago. The novel is about a 13-year-old girl named Charlotte who deals with the grief of losing her mother by casting herself into a self-imposed exile – broken reluctantly by a new neighbor – with friendships and hijinks included. It is set in my neighborhood on the West Side of Buffalo, with a cast of friends inspired by some of our close family friendships. It includes Girl Scouts of course – Charlotte’s troop of friends – and there is plenty of adventure and food, some of my favorite things. I hope that a grieving child might find comfort, recognition and hope in this story, and that others will feel empathy and be reminded about the importance of friendship.

With a story that I care so deeply about, why did I keep stopping? One, I was getting stuck in the middle – I knew the beginning, I knew the end, but I didn’t know how to connect those together. The outline solved that. There was a bigger issue. I felt that if I was a writer, then beautiful, flowing, articulate words should pour out of my fingers like honey. And crappy, hack-ish, meandering words were clunking out of my keyboard. What if I finally finished this novel and learned I’m a terrible writer? What if I’m not like Diana Gabaldon whose first “practice” novel Outlander became a major bestseller and a series?

In the “Just Do It” class, our teacher told us that all that mattered was the words getting on the page. Finishing the draft. The beautiful, articulate words could wait for the second or third or fourth draft. Something in her message sunk in, and I gave myself permission to write a crappy first draft.

That was my birthday gift to myself – the gift of time, and space. The gift to get it done. The gift to finish something that was my dream, even though on most days I acted like it was a task or expectation imposed on me. Writing this novel has been hard. I don’t always like to do things I find hard. 

In our cozy cabin this weekend, I sat in front of the computer. I plodded through, unflinching at the parts that were hack-ish, amateurish, hokey, cheesy, you name it. I embraced it all. I threw the clay down, knowing that ahead of me would the fun part of revising and polishing until it becomes something that I’d be willing to share even if not comfortable to share.

And I’m proud to say …….

I finished it!!!! 

When the weekend started I was at 150 pages, and I finished the weekend with 220 pages. Some of the writing I loved, some made me laugh, some made me cry. A lot made me cringe and was very, very crappy. But it is done!!  Instead of staring down the road at a never ending abyss, I now have a foundation of clay to mold.

After I take a nice long break over the holidays.

Sometimes we follow our dreams, and the dream turns out to be hard. I appreciate you taking the time to read this and hope you continue to take on the things you’ve been dreaming to do as well.

Best, Alison