Writing Retreat – Write on the World

Sometimes the best way to get more writing done is to stop trying to write at home. I know that sounds strange. After all, home is where most of us write. But home is also where the laundry needs to be folded, the dishes need to be washed, the dog needs to go outside, and the cat has decided that whatever you’re doing is less important than paying attention to them while they rest their behinds on your keyboard. Even when those things aren’t urgent, they’re always there in the back of your mind.

A ramshackle gray barn, rolling hills, and fog settling over the mountains—the perfect backdrop for my most recent creative writing retreat.

That’s one reason I’ve become such a fan of getting away for writing retreats. I’ve been taking long weekend writing getaways for several months now, and I’m amazed at how much work I can accomplish when I remove myself from my everyday environment. The trick is that these don’t have to be expensive, organized writing retreats. You can create your own.

Continue reading →

The best way to understand a city is to walk it—and on my first morning in Indianapolis, that’s exactly what I did. I’m currently on my very first house sit through TrustedHousesitters, caring for two incredibly sweet, easygoing dogs. While they’ve been wonderful company during my downtime, this trip has also doubled as something I want to be intentional about moving forward: a writing retreat. Building travel around writing time—quiet mornings, unstructured afternoons, space to think—feels less like a luxury and more like a necessary shift in how I want to move through the world.

Much of downtown Indianapolis can be seen from the canal walk.

That mindset carried into my first full day, which started with a solo walk along the downtown canal. The full three-mile loop offers one of the most immersive introductions to the city you could ask for. The path winds past water, public art, and a cluster of museums that practically guarantee I’ll be back. It’s the kind of place where you don’t feel rushed. You notice things. You let the city unfold at its own pace.