writing retreat in New Hampshire

someone put me on a train
and sent me to New Hampshire for a week.
Here's the journey in picture-blog-post-form.

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before that could happen, I had to find something to wear. Many things to wear, actually. A week is a lot of outfits.  

but in the end I managed to fill my case, and it was far tidier than how I left my wardrobe.

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the views were enough to make me a morning person. I wanted to be out of bed with coffee on the front porch by like, eight.
Maybe half eight. A few mornings it was closer to ten.

And see how I became a morning person? It's like magic. Instant nice Bella. Just add New Hampshire and coffee.

the working conditions were fantastically ideal.
Lots of space and sunlight.

As for my writing space, I like it to look and feel like I'm in a writing fortress with stuff surrounding me. So, coffee, table to put coffee on, and a place for two notebooks I won't use, lip gloss, my fountain pen, a paperback copy of one of my Waldorf Manor books just in case I wanted to work on the next manuscript (I didn't). A blanket. Beatrix the bunny (a gift from a reader for my birthday), pillows. Headphones. Iphone. Important things that should be nearby and surrounding me on all sides.

Writing environment secure. Writing commences.

I also got to meet some of my fellow sister authors in person.
Like Maren Smith.

and then promptly made myself very comfortable in her presence by squishing her face against mine.

Alta Hensley. Seen her before. She likes wine and I like cupcakes. 
Kindred spirits in an almost twinsies sort of way. There are videos. The end.

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And then there's Maggie Ryan, who wasn't very obedient. There was a bit of convincing required to get her to settle down and take a proper photo. Look at this!

the utter cheek.

and then finally, Maggie settled down for a proper photo with me.

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meals together at the same table IN REAL LIFE instead of looking at each others food photos on Facebook . . . priceless.
All right. Fine. The food photos are usually mine.

and then Zoe Blake's chef husband cooked a three course meal for us and she was host and sauce-drizzler. I didn't want them to leave because I loved them. Why do people always have to go home?
Stop it.

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AND. THERE. WAS. SWIMMING.
WITH A PINK FLAMINGO FLOATIE.
CAN'T. EVEN.

CAN'T. DIDN'T. WON'T.

See what swimming does to me?
Far too cheeky.

And lakewater makes my hair have a bouffant effect, so mornings were fun.

. . . . . . . .

After a couple days of swimming, people made me shower and wash my hair and I came out looking like a well-raised author posing on a rock at a writing retreat just before sunset.

I tried to tell them that swimming in the lake counted as bathing. It didn't work.

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One morning, a few of us decided to be most un-author-like and leave the cabin. That's right. We left the confines of the writing retreat. I made sure to leave our host a note so she didn't wake to find herself authorless AND without a clue as to our whereabouts. I gently explained.

who let the authors out  ?

Actually, I did.

I politely announced that,"everyone is going out of doors now.
I need fresh air, and coffee and shopping. And someone to drive me please."

We all ordered coffee and pastries.

Then I went back for a breakfast sandwich and a chicken Parmesan sandwich.

And then a double chocolate brownie cupcake with bling.
I mean sprinkles.

Our host wasn't alarmed by an authorless house and we returned to find an equally intriguing note. We weren't absolutely certain it was her writing. It could have been a ransom note.

She did return in one piece, very chipper and in a breezy summer dress after lunch at her favourite place in town. All appeared to be in order so I went with it.

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Also, on this trip: my editor loves me. She told me so.
Does YOUR editor love YOU?
If not, you had better promise not to do rewrites.
Editors like those promises. So I made promises.

She had wine when she made me promise. I wonder if she'll remember that conversation.

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This was a quiet place to write and look at the water . . . and get chased by squirrels. One followed me and then proceeded to run around the tree. It was all very strange, so I stopped writing and just watched him be a weird squirrel. 

Speaking of animals, THERE WAS A CAT! I've never had a cat before but I love borrowing other people's cats. This is Rufus. Rufus loved me. How do I know? He came into my room around 4 am on at least three occasions and his wee little bell woke me up. I sat up (at 4 am) and was all like, ''Rufus!'' in a hushed whisper. ''Rufus! Come sleep with me!" And then he left the room. You know what? That cat wanted to check on me. He wanted to be sure I was safe. Lovely cat, he was.

Speaking of sleep - these two couldn't keep awake. So naturally, I photographed them. Don't fall asleep around me or you shall find yourself promptly photographed and displayed upon the interwebs.

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I don't do goodbyes. Even when I don't really know people - if they show up - I feel I have ownership, because apparently I'm like five. So that means, don't leave. When people pack and start for the door I have this innate response that's verbalised as, "you're leaving!!? Why? Where are you going??" And I want to follow them to the door because I don't know what else to do with the heavy disappointment in the pit of my stomach.

I really don't like it when events come to a close, either. I get a serious case of the Sunday Sadtimes.

my posse is made up of seriously talented authors who write because they love it, and who consistently bring home gold medals in the writing world like USA Today and Amazon bestselling spots. I'm honoured to share my cupcakes with them.