Writers Gotta Write: A Writers Retreat

Once upon a time, I went to Hidden Springs Writers Retreat.

First, I called it Hidden Valley Writers Retreat and was corrected after I'd already gathered the cucumbers for dipping. Despite my inability to remember the geographical phenomenon that was hidden, I went. Jenni Moore ensured my safe arrival.

The Bear Lake Monsters

During the day we had classes, panels, fantastic food, and quiet time.

Here's the thing about me and quiet time.
First, my headphones don't work on my devices. My phone fell out of my pocket and sort of got run over and is now just is stupid and will only charge with one special charging cable and headphones and Bluetooth don't work. I have one other device. It also doesn't do the headphones thing. My chromebook had an accident with a set of headphones and the little thingy that plugs into the headphone jack is now imperative to the structure of my laptop device. At home, these malfunctions are of no consequence. I can turn on music and listen to it on the speakers, as I am the only one here. My kids are noisy when I'm writing at night. For library visits, no biggie. I can just be quiet for a little while. 30 minutes to an hour is nothing. My brain can stay busy. So I enter into the quiet hours of the day unaware of how I will respond. My progression was gradual. Day one of quiet time: fun game. Shhhh....heehee. Day two of quiet time: Looks like we're still playing this game, I can be a grown up and be quiet. I'll just get my talking out during meals. On day three of extended hours of quiet time: I'M GOING CRAZY!!!!! I am no longer even quiet. I chat in the kitchen, I take writers away from their writing and out on walks where we don't have to be quiet, and I whisper irreverently in ears. Then quiet time was finally over and I talked and talked and talked.

On night one: I played my first role-playing game. It involved candles, (which my religion has not yet embraced, but it would be so great if it did. The Catholic church does such a great job with the candle thing) and characters that we made up. My character was an unfeeling doctor who was brave and cared naught for others. There was a priest who had a traumatic brain injury and could no longer remember the litergy and was searching for a flock. There was another guy who was good with gadgets, and a girl who liked cross-fit and had a pain pill addiction. Dan Wells was our story master and led us on an epic quest wherein we all died. Kind of a tragedy, but it wasn't without comedic moments. No kissy kissy.

My brother John came. He isn't necessarily a writer, but he is for sure a creator. His medium is video. John is the guy I call when I need someone to talk to for three hours. He's the one I can ask what color of paint I should paint my wall, and tell him the story about how my puppy chewed up my favorite bra. I think he's the closest thing I have to a sister, only he's a guy. I don't have a sister, though. I have a John. We were able to work out together, go on a run and a walk, he played that candle game with me, and we met new people together. It wouldn't have been as fun for me without my John.

He made a video. It's awesome. Check it out here.



I roomed with the epic Suzy G, and Krista Jensen. We were not quiet. The walls are thin. The men next door to us heard our loudness. We talked about our impending employment at Hogwarts. I would teach Muggle History (which Suzy pointed out is just history), while Suzy teaches Horticulture, and Krista teaches Tips and Tricks of Wand Wielding 101.

I loved this writing retreat. I was able to be on my first panel, and talk openly about my non-fiction writing with other nonfiction writers. I met fantastic people, some of whom I am sure are new treasures in my life. 

On the final night, we had Cocoa with Cory, led by Cory Webb. It was a magical night of words and laughter. Authors shared their worst reviews and we laughed and laughed. The cocoa was amazing, made from melted chocolate from the mountains of Willy Wonka. We got a flavor for what types of words these writers who had been so very quiet for days were working on. Such wonderful words. 

This isn't the entire group. This is who was still here on Saturday morning around 9:15, when I thought to take a group photo. I should have thought of it sooner. 

For those of you who took time out of your lives to join us in the desolation of Duschane, Utah, bless your hearts. And, here are some glamorous pictures of Shanna Hovley. I love her. You can see why. The sweet little Quasimodo.