A $600 Writing Retreat, Complete Isolation, and One Finished Draft Walk Into a Bar…

…And by bar I mean a clean and quiet hotel room (incidently, the murder room on the top floor) where the only sound is the crunch of low sodium sweet potato crackers. My poor hypertensive heart can’t handle the chaos of the apocalypse, more than one coffee, and snack foods all at once so I had to settle for the apocalypse, “heart healthy treats” and decaf. Ooof. The sacrifices are real, my friend!

First of all, I need to acknowledge that this is the most expensive solo retreat I’ve ever taken. Was it worth it? Probably. Is it worth repeating? Well, let’s see… to gain back the $600 room charge, I’ll need to sell at least 60 copies of When The Trees All Burned, so if you’d step up, we’re good. I’ll wait.

working hard in my hotel suite

Okay, now that that’s done, I can say with confidence: YES, IT WAS WORTH IT!

In 2024 and 2025 I took my winter retreat at a renovated school house with a group of other women. Fully self-guided, but we took turns cooking and came together for dinner and the occasional brain-dumping session in the kitchen. The location is stunning, the company is inspiring, and I always make great progress.

Before that, I’d book a stay at a local boutique hotel—a beautiful room, but with only a microwave, it limited my meal options.

In the very early days, I spent a couple weekends at my friend’s cottage on Lake Huron.

And if you’ve been following me for a while, you know I also take myself and my camper van on a solo retreat into the woods every summer.

This time, I chose a suite hotel in a nearby city because it offered a full hot buffet breakfast and an in-room kitchenette.

Was it better? No. Was it great? Yes.

Retreat	Cost/night	Pros	Cons
feral and thriving Campground 5 min away (the van) #1	$55 + groceries	Fresh air, trails, evening campfires with a book Nothing makes me feel more like myself than a vanlife experience One (1) chipmunk incident (filed under: highlights, not cons)	Roof leaks when it rains Campground washrooms (enough said) Slipped on a rock while filming an "inspired by nature" reel. Caught it on video.
surprisingly productive Schoolhouse Middle of nowhere, 1.5 hr #2	$65 + groceries	Good company and commiserating opportunities Beautiful, bright space	Social obligations ate into solo writing time Group cooking duties (pizza pocket dreams deferred)
chaotic neutral Suite hotel Nearby city, 1.2 hr #3	$200 + groceries	Hot buffet breakfast (and the sacred art of muffin smuggling) An exceptional mattress — possibly the best sleep of my adult life Kitchenette kept food costs manageable	Fire alarm drill. Mid-draft. Booked via Hotels.com → assigned the murder room (end of hall, stairs adjacent, optimal body removal logistics) The frying pan had a loose handle I had to tighten with a knife, which felt like a metaphor
vibes: 10, meals: 2 Boutique hotel Nearby town, 20 min #4	$110 + groceries	Genuinely beautiful space Deep soaker tub (a literary necessity) Very quiet	No cooking facilities → hot pockets and bagged salad for three days No breakfast included (see above re: hot pockets)
lumpy but loved The cottage Nearly 2 hr away #5	Free + groceries	Free (see also: free) Gorgeous sunset views from the backyard Massive dining room table — enough space to have an actual breakdown about act two structure	Cottage beds Cottage furniture A cozy but lumpy aesthetic (the furniture, not the writing)

No matter what way I look at it, the campgound retreat wins by a landslide and it checks off all my must haves:

• pretty spaces
• zero social pressure
• my time is beholden to no one else's schedule
• light ghost activity (sure, on closer inspection, that lady in a white nighty was (probably) just a sign telling campers to drive slowly, but I saw her skirt swaying in the darkness so…)

This is not to say that this most recent retreat wasn’t AWESOME, because it was. A - W - E - S - O - M - E - !

A few weeks ago I made a public declaration that I was one writing retreat away from completing the draft for Book 2 of my apocalyptic series. That meant, when I committed to SOLO WINTER RETREAT 2026, I was not going to leave that room until I met that goal. And that’s exactly what happened. Here’s how I did it:

1. I booked the room for three nights, gifting myself two FULL days to focus

2. I assessed the state of my draft and determined exactly what I needed to do in order to write THE END

3. I checked in on a Wednesday evening and got right to work (after an unhinged moment of jumping on the luxurious bed)

4. I did not sleep in each morning. I forced myself to get up, eat a hot breakfast at the hotel buffet with the vintage sci-fi novel one of my characters loves, squirrel away a muffin or bagel and some fruit for my lunch, and dive right back into my manuscript

5. I journeyed back to the lobby every afternoon to grab a (decaf) coffee and a complimentary cookie as a way to force my body away from the computer for a little break

6. I cooked myself dinner in my little kitchenette: steak, potatoes, and an onion/pepper/mushroom medley on the first night, and a flatbread bruchetta on the second night

7. I kept the DO NOT DISTURB sign on my door and didn’t invite housekeeping in the whole time I was there—it was just me and I’m not a dirty person. I made my own bed, did my own dishes, and am not afraid to use a towel more than once in order to protect my time

8. On Friday afternoon around 4:30 p.m. I did write THE END, celebrated with a Skor bar and a cup of tea, and immediately started formatting to get it ready for beta readers

the pretentious off-to-breakfast-with-a-book-because-I’m-a-romantic-who-wants-to-project-a-not-always-stuck-on-my-phone image to the other dining room patrons who are stuck on their phone while also showcasing the rules of WHAT TO WEAR WHEN ON RETREAT (read: no jeans allowed; soft and comfy clothing only)

The real truth is, very little writing actually happened during this time. In the end, I probably wrote 6000 words of new material, but mostly I was focused on reading through the entire manuscript, noting where I saw gaps, filling them, getting a snack, and carrying on.

I read the entire book out loud. This helps me identify scenes that aren’t quite clicking, weird repetition, and it helps me appreciate the rhythm of my story-telling. And friends, I am in love with this book!

the organized chaos of Hard At Work

As I told you in I Promised You a Trilogy, But Science Had Other Plans, this series has grown into a four book beast, and while that realization helped me figure out exactly what Book 2 needed to be, I had been feeling a little insecure about its content. Not because I doubt my own ability, but becaue I was afraid of what people were demanding after Book 1. There were certain beats I knew I needed to hit, and certain questions I needed to answer while still leaving enough intrigue that readers will be scratching at my door for Book 3.

I hope I’ve done it. I think I’ve done it. I guess that’s up for beta readers to let me know.

Which means I am now entering the most vulnerable part of the process: releasing this into the hands of trusted readers who aren’t afraid to hurt my feelings by identifying where I’ve fallen short.

After the work of the beta readers, I’ll be polishing things up and sending ARCs out to my review team. Want to be included? If you’re a reader who loved Book 1 and want early access to Book 2 in exchange for an honest review, sign up HERE.

If you’re local and want to be the first to get a sneak peek at the cover and opening scene of Book 2, join me at the Owen Sound Library on April 14 where I’ll be delivering a little author talk with an exclusive early look at what’s coming.

A $600 writing reteat, complete isolation, and one finished draft walk into a bar. “We’re closed,” said the bartender. “So am I,” said the draft.