I’ve finally finished a draft of the novel I’ve been working on consistently for three years, fifteen years all told. This draft feels strong at upwards of 65,000 words that I still enjoy reading. After some on-again, off-again with Scrivener, I think I’ve finally figured out how to use it well. So, I’m poised to move big chunks of text around with ease. It’s one of the first things I did when I arrived at a two-day retreat with my bestie at Dosewallips State Park.

This is a park we’ve both been to before, and we’ve both taken our families there. It’s located right where the Dosewallips River meets with Hood Canal and so has equal parts saltwater and freshwater shoreline (about 5000 acres each). Hood Canal is a fjord-like body of water off Puget Sound and is one of the minor bodies of water that make up the Salish Sea. At this time of year, the blackberries aren’t yet ripe (invasive, but they’re here, so may as well eat them) and clam season is closed, but you can pick your limit of oysters. This is supposed to be one of the best public spots for shellfish foraging on Puget Sound. While I was on a walk, I got tipped off that some elk were in the area. I followed directions to try to get a glimpse, but all I found were fresh droppings. Once, when we were here in October, we shared the campground with herds of elk. They winter here!

I had my computer set to work offline. I also printed a proof copy of my book and put in it a binder, so I could move between reading/hand editing and transcribing my edits digitally.

At the point of writing this blog, it’s three o’clock on the first (and only) full day, and I am three chapters in to editing. If we had to go home now, I’d be satisfied with what I accomplished. But we don’t, so I am going for extravagance now.

After coffee and fruit and time spent tinkering with a poem I’ve been working on, I dove in. Three chapters hand-edited by 10:30. I took a yoga break and read a couple sections of a massive mindfulness tome I’ve been chipping away at for over a year: Coming To Our Senses. I read a section about noise and about breath. I read another bit about noticing your thoughts without getting caught up in their content.

This idea—not getting caught up in the content of your thoughts—resonated freshly with me. If that is what meditation is, then this writing retreat is the longest, most successful meditation ever. I have been especially in flow here. Perhaps because it’s a park I know, with a friend I trust, during a summer I have prioritized creative routines.

It’s not that I haven’t had all the usual thoughts that take me out of the work and into despair. I just haven’t been getting caught up in their content. I recognize them, acknowledge them, then simply return to the work without drama. I’ve kept these thoughts at a distance, seeing them for what they are: just thoughts. Right now, in fact, they are not particularly interesting ones.

Little goals have helped this focus, too. First, I hand-edited three chapters. Then, I took a yoga break. I input those edits into the computer, then had lunch. My computer needed charging at that point, so I began handwriting this blog.

When I finish writing this, I will take a break, walk down to the river and wade in. I’ll stand there as long as I feel like until I get brave enough to lay back and float a while.

It’s been hours since I went to the river now, and the day is winding down. I edited a book of poems between returning and now. I’ll edit more of my book before bed and again for a few hours before checkout tomorrow.

These retreats strengthen the daily habits I am cultivating. They allow me to see a leap in progress, providing the opportunity to grapple with the limits of my attention and extended time soaking in the creative space.

I also work as a writing coach and love helping writers gain confidence, set goals, and develop their work. For more information on coaching, email me at eatyourwords.lizshine@gmail.com.