The pool remains undisturbed, the guests are non-existent, my clothes are sodden, but there are worst places to be confined due to lousy weather, believe me.
With two days to go (sun and warmth are due just after I start my journey home) I’m treating my time here as work days, and I’m deep into my next non-Bryant & May novel, ‘Hell Train’ (out US and UK around Christmas).
And I may just have become converted to the idea of a writer’s retreat. I always rubbished the idea of going afar to work on something you could easily do at home, but for some reason (possibly the fact that there’s no TV and mobiles don’t work here) I’ve doubled the number of pages I usually produce. I can get online and do my research, or block that in later – the main thing is to create structure in peace and quiet.
Having sat through the appalling ‘Tamara Drewe’, in which we’re meant (I guess) to find writers’ retreats funny, I can see the pleasure and productivity in closeting oneself away from distractions. The key, though, would be to arrive with a definite pattern of work laid out in advance, so that you could start filling pages immediately.
You can see where this is leading.
If any lavish, gorgeous hotel would like me to start a writer’s workshop (I’m particularly addicted to the Aman chain) I am so available!