Delight by Liz Flaherty

Photo by Heidi Echols

The delights of writing jump out in front of us sometimes, don't they? Never more than when we spend time with other writers.

Nan and I spent a few days in Nashville, Indiana this week on our twice annual writing retreat. It was a good time, the best retreat we've had in years--which is what we say after each and every one. (Except possibly for the notable one last year when I broke my wrist.) Some of the great gratitudes of my writing life are these sojourns. 

When we are gone, we drink some wine. This time, Nan drank wine and I drank eggnog. 

When we are gone, we call our husbands every night and talk with murmuring voices and quiet laughter and exchange I love yous with them just as if they were there with us. 

When we are gone, we usually shop some, buy a little. We distribute rack cards and bookmarks and--usually--someone will be excited about meeting real authors and we will each give her a book. Sometimes we leave one in a Little Free Library. 

When we are gone, we revel in the singletude of it. We would never want to actually be single--we love the aforementioned husbands and the lives we share with them--but a few days of thinking of no one but ourselves is one of those things you never thought would be a gift but
it is. It is. 

When we are gone, we do not think of cooking or vacuuming or cleaning up anything or doing laundry or remembering appointments.

When we are gone, if one of us spends two hours on a single six-line paragraph, the other one completely understands and talks her through it one word at a time. At the end of the six lines there is a celebration and some jumping up and down involved. The story is saved until the next crisis. 

When we are gone, we talk of things that never go beyond the walls of the friendship. We spend a few hours of catharsis to get us through what might be painful at some point. 

When we are gone, one of us is usually in a better place than the other, and the person in the bad place remains happy for the one in the good one. The one in the good one helps to get through what seems like endless darkness. 

Times like these are professional blessings not just for Nan and me but for every writer. Call them retreats or getaways or whatever name you suits you. It can be two, as we usually are, or as many as you like as long as your spirits intermingle. One of the best times ever was the one in North Carolina with Margie and Janie. Another was a weekend when we gave a presentation with Kristi. I think all of the Wranglers have posses they spend quality time with, finding those delights of writing even if they have to struggle through the swamp of discouragement to find them.

I am so sleepy now, this night we've returned from the Artists Colony Inn. I'm glad to be home, back in tandem with the love of my life, but in a few months, in late spring or in the fall, we will go again. To Michigan, probably. We will reconnoiter and talk and laugh and drink adult beverages. We'll relish the sound of our own voices in our written words and in each other's as well.

It will be fun. It will be a delight.