Varian: Tips on Planning a Writers' Retreat

For the past two years, my classmates and other alums from the Vermont College of Fine Arts have held a 4-day writing retreat. Planning a retreat isn't all that hard--although there are certainly some challenges involved. I figured it might be helpful to share some lessons learned from our past two retreats.


1) Pick a place: When we began planning for our first retreat, we quickly decided to hold the retreat at a place and time that allowed the largest number of us to attend. We chose a location outside of Detroit in 2011--a beautiful, three story house on a man-made lake. Flights were relatively inexpensive, and the house offered plenty of room.

The crew in 2011: Back - Amy Rose Capetta, Katie Bayerl, Rachel Wilson, Carol Allen, Sue LaNeve; Middie - Mary Winn Heider, Jennifer Schmidt; Front - Linden McNeilly, Ginger Johnson

While we loved the 2011 house, we decided to try something a little different in 2012. We wanted to feel more secluded, so we picked a house on a large, wooded, two-acre lot. We also chose a house in Beverly Shores, IN, about an hour outside of Chicago. Chicago was a less-expensive hub city than Detroit, and since four our our crew lived in there, we didn't have to rent any cars.

Ginger and Rachel outside of the 2012 House (Beverly Shores, IN)

"Can I get a hot tub?!"

While the 2011 house offered more room and was a little cheaper, the 2012 house gave us the retreat feel that we were craving. We didn't feel like were where held up in the suburbs--we felt away.

(The 2012 house also had a huge outdoor hot tub, which is always a good thing.)

2) Make a schedule: I can't stress how important this is. While we wanted to have a lot of fun, we wanted to get meaningful work done. We also wanted to hold small workshops. It easy to say that you can fit all this in over a 4 day weekend, but you'd be surprised how quickly the time passes without a little structure.

The crew in 2012: Back - Amy Rose Capetta, Mary Winn Heider, Carol Brendler, Katie Bayerl, Marianna Baer, Varian Johnson; Front - Ginger Johnson, Rachel Wilson, Jennifer Schmidt, Larissa Theule, Rachel Hylton

Mary Winn, hard at work

We set up a detailed but flexible schedule. We had quiet writing time from 9 AM to noon--it's amazing how productive you are when the person next to you is typing away. Because of the size of the house, we were able to spread out--some of us worked at the dining room table, other worked in the living room and basement, and others worked outside. We met back up for a quick lunch at noon, then immediately went into workshop afterward. By 3:30, we have all of our "work" done, allowing us to walk to the beach or hang out while we were cooking. We closed the day with readings, and even roasted marshmallows on the last night.

3) Think about ways to cut down expenses. Picking a large hub city certainly cut down on costs. We also cooked most of our meals. This not only cut down on cost, but it allowed us to hang out while working in the kitchen. All that being said--the bigger the kitchen, the easier it is to fix food. Our 2012 house had a much smaller kitchen that our previous house, making it that much harder for everyone to maneuver. We're already talking about contingency plans for the next retreat if we pick a house with a small kitchen. And be sure to bring a crock-pot or two.

Marianna, Katie and Mary Winn whipping up a meal.

4) Share the responsibilities. We not only shared in cooking duties, but we also shared with clean-up, planning, driving--everything. This way, it didn't feel like one or two people were doing all the work.

5) Have Fun! Sure, you're there to work, but don't forget to have fun. And wine and chocolate always help.

Sara's clients on the beach - Amy Rose Capetta, Rachel Wilson, Varian Johnson, Marianna Baer

Our 2011 retreat was extremely successful. Between 2011 and 2012, three retreat pieces sold--Amy Rose Capetta's Entangled, Rachel Wilson's Don't Touch,  and my own Jackson Greene Steals the Election.

I can't wait to see the results of our 2012 retreat, and I can't wait until 2013!

Amy Rose: On Theme

Since it’s my first post here at the Crowe’s Nest, I feel like it’s the right time to share something it took me four finished, unpublished novels to work out. As someone who loves and writes sci-fi, I know the pitfalls (both paradoxical and practical) of wanting a time machine so I can go back and tell this to myself before I set out to write that first novel. So I’ll share it in the hopes that it can save another writer some time, agony, or hair that would otherwise have been pulled out or set on fire.

It’s okay to know what your novel is about before you start writing it.

I don’t mean the premise of the novel.  I don’t mean the beginning or the ending or even what the main character wants. I mean what it is ABOUT. Capital ABOUT. I mean the theme, or as some writers put it, the central question. Casting it as a question keeps me reaching outwards in lots of different directions—not expecting an answer but eager to barrel down all avenues that spoke out from that center, knowing that it will result in lots of chewy ideas, resonant subplots, engaged characters, details of setting and word choice that echo or subvert, circle or underline that central question.

Of course, there’s nothing wrong with figuring out theme through revision. When I started writing, that’s what I thought novelists did—and many do. But I struggled and rough-drafted and revised myself into the realization that I am not one of those novelists. I get lost in the wonderful work of figuring out character, voice, world-building, exciting plot events. I have written entire novels (and sometimes rewritten and rewritten entire novels) only to have them come apart in the worst dry-cookie crumble. Knowing what the story is about binds it all together for me.

It is also utterly okay to use a theme to figure out the structure of your novel.

If your writer-brain has the same sort of geography as my writer-brain, you might even start to think of structure and theme as inseparable. To me, structure is what happens when I strike the match-head of character against the nubbly stuff of theme. All of a sudden, plot events are racing to happen. I don’t feel the need to force them that used to dampen early drafts. Rather than feeling forced or gimmicky (a big concern when writers approach structure first and writing second,) to me these events feel organic, because they feed off the same central idea, connecting to each other and falling into a chain of causality, often in ways that surprise me.

So, HOW does a writer get from theme to story structure? There are lots of ways, and all I can share are some basic steps and questions that help me.

What is your central question?

Have one? Good. Don’t answer it. Think about it as hard as you can, in every direction that you can, but don’t answer it. What you’re looking for isn’t an answer, it’s a series of events: the events that could only come from the specific combination of character, setting, and theme in your story.

How does the central question connect to the premise of your novel?

If it doesn’t, you might need a different central question—or a different premise.

What happens when you put your characters, in the setting you’ve picked, up against this theme?

I brainstorm a list of events, usually starting with ones that are driven by the main character. Then I pick one that would seem to fall at an obvious point in the book, whether it’s the beginning, the end, or an act climax. (I usually use a three-act structure, sometimes more.) Once I pick one or two of these points that feel “obvious” and natural, I start to see how the other points I’ve brainstormed could fall into the remaining spots, maybe as climaxes for other acts. If they don’t, I brainstorm some more! I try to come up with a balance of charges for these events—not just whether they’re “good” or “bad”, but whether they’re positive or negative in terms of this character’s relationship to the theme.

What happens once you have your main points set up?

Fill in or as much or as little of in between as you like. That’s one of the nice things about this method! There’s a lot of flexibility, and things can change from writer to writer and story to story. It’s up to me how much I want to think about beforehand vs. discover through writing. This also makes it easier for me to deviate from early choices and outlines and take it back to the basics of the story when things need some tweaking.

This is just a start, of course, but it often launches me into a story. All writers are different in how they approach story and structure, and these are just some of my favorite questions. I’d love to know more about how you approach the process!