It was good to go, and it is nearly as good to get home again. Non-stop writing for two and a half days, and almost more than I could stand. I come home with a greater understanding of the arc of this project I’ve been working on for so long. Most of what I actually wrote was incidental, or at least I’m assuming so, but I feel like I know and understand, like I’ve gone back into the world of my novel(s).
Oh, that’s the other thing. I’m considering going back to part 1 and editing it to stand alone, with then part 2, where I’ve been flailing the last couple of years, as a separate book.
I also wrote several poems, one or two worth keeping.
The company was excellent; Kat’s friends/co-critiquers are a good bunch, very welcoming and thoughtful. I really don’t care for the critique methodology, although I think I understand its purpose. Also, I definitely, absolutely, need to find a community of writing down here.
The house was beautiful. The food…oh, I ate so well! Made my curry the first night, and then Kat cooked a lamb roast on Saturday and spaghetti on Sunday. Everybody chipped in on cooking breakfasts; Kate’s secret to kick-ass home fries is to be very judicious with stirring: just dump the potatoes in and walk away!
Still, it’s good to be in my own space again, with my cats and the internets, and with new ideas and words bounding around in the back of my brain.