Hi, Anne here. I'm just back from a week-long writing retreat, the annual one I take with a small group of excellent writing friends.
It's always an intensive writing week, as we're all published writers determined to get the most we can out of the week, professionally and personally, so we all got a lot of writing done. We also brainstormed our various plots, ran workshops on writing topics and shared approaches and strategies for improving our productivity and our writing lives. At night we relaxed, ate fabulous food, drank beautiful wines and talked our heads off.
This time we stayed in a hotel on Coogee beach in Sydney, and this was the view from my balcony. We chose Sydney, even though none of us lives in Sydney, because it's only one plane flight for any of us, even the New Zealander in our midst.
We're just a small group but we live thousands of kilometers apart — the original group was formed to help overcome the barriers of isolation — so for many of us, it's the only time outside of a national conference we get to talk to our peers about the passion we share — writing. So it's very stimulating as well as productive.
As a consequence, our brains were buzzing and it was hard to sleep in, so some of us started writing at dawn, getting pages done before we all met for breakfast. Our rooms overlooked the sea, so watching the sun lift slowly out of the sea was a beautiful start to the day. Again, this is taken from my balcony.
Some people were more energetic and swam before breakfast in the 20 meter (approx 60 ft) ocean pool, built exclusively for the use of women. It's been in continuous use as a women-only bathing spot since before 1876. The pool itself was built in 1886. Built into the cliff, with a rock floor, its occupants can swim in complete privacy, virtually invisible from the cliff path above — I took this photo from well down inside the women's area. You can see my friends in the bathing hats, waving.
The bathing hats were a fun gift to us all from one of the retreat-writers and as you can see, we put them to good use.
The hotel had two kinds of occupants that also stimulated us. The first was of the genus footballer — when we arrived the South African rugby team was in occupation, and they were replaced by a succession of teams full of large, strong young men — all grist to the romance writer's mill. One time I was in the elevator with three women attending a conference, and we were chatting when a big gorgeous guy dressed in nothing but a pair of swimming trunks got in. The conversation stopped in mid word as four women's brains turned to mush and I swear nobody remembered to breathe until he got out again at the pool level.
The other kind of occupant of the hotel hit a very different mush factor. In a program new to me, new mothers from the local maternity hospital spend their first few days after giving birth in the hotel, instead of staying in hospital. They're given lovely balcony rooms overlooking the sea, and all their needs are met, including food. A midwife visits them each day to check their progress. They're not sick, of course — they've just had a baby. Husbands and children are also allowed to stay with them, for an extra cost, I assume. Most of the young mothers seemed to be on the same floor, so I guess they could visit each other if they were so inclined.
It was a beautiful sight to see young mothers sitting on the balcony, peacefully feeding their tiny baby as they gazed out to sea. I met a young father bursting with pride as he came from work to visit his wife and brand new new son. He told us in the elevator-- the news was just bursting from him, and his joy and pride were palpable. He had a most receptive audience, too, in a bunch of romance writers, but there was another guy in the elevator who was a biologist and he was just as touched as we were.
It's a brilliantly innovative way to reduce hospital bills, and at the same time it gives new mothers a lovely rest and a bit of a treat before they return home. And I never once heard a baby crying — I don't know whether it was because of good building design or an outcome of having a happy, relaxed mother. I'd never heard of this kind of program before, but apparently they do it in several cities in Australia.
I feel blessed to be part of such a retreat — it really is a wonderful experience for any writer. Now I'm home and it's head down again, working hard on my next book, feeling refreshed and stimulated but still wishing for my room with a view...
So what about you? Have you ever been on a retreat of some sort? Shared a hotel with footballers? Swum in a special place? And what do you think of this program for young mothers?