My 48-Hour Writing Retreat

Late bloomers, reading among strangers, markers for The Muse—the quotes from other writers/artists I keep coming back to, and why being alone with your notebook is a good thing.

Two quick things: Like everyone else on the planet, the latest IOS mail update (good times 😑) has made it trickier to find A Tiny Apt. as well as maybe your other fave newsletters (with the update they’re flagged as Shopping/Promotions, which might make them look like spam…and we are not spam!). Hence, you may need to recategorize ATA/other stuff in your inbox (I’m sorry, my inbox is a disaster, too 😕). Hence, some of you didn’t see ATA from earlier this week about the back story of this wonderful wardrobe from 1945 I found on the sidewalk last Sunday. Here’s a link ⬇️. I hope if you missed it you’ll give it a read (fate at its finest). Also for today’s edition, click through to your browser/Substack app if you want to read it in full 💋.

The Rescuers

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It’s Valentine’s Day, but as luck would have it, I have been holed up alone the past few days on a self-imposed writing retreat at this mythical hotel in upstate New York called Troutbeck. (The history is fascinating, and the poet Myron Beecher Benton and other writers like Emerson were guests here almost 200 years ago, which makes it…perfect. (Almost as perfect as this stained glass window below, too).

It’s hard to be alone these days. Especially if you live in a 24/7 city like I do. Or if you work in an office or have a kid or basically just live in the 21st century. Alone time has become one of the most precious resources I can think of. Especially if you are tethered to social media for work or life where—at a moment’s notice—you can magically be un-solo in the blink of an eye.

It’s too easy to not be alone. So many of us can hide from it, immersing ourselves in other things/people being un-solo, too. And yet, having time by yourself with your notebook, even just for a few hours, can instantly transport you from one reality to another. It’s almost as though by that simple act of choosing to be alone—somewhere outside your own home (and distractions…like making soup or doing laundry!)—we give ourselves permission to imagine what it is we really want.

And then it’s like something new can finally begin. Because we were there…to choose it + schedule it in, and not just wait for it to happen.

Working on my book proposal has been agonizing. Mostly because it’s been so hard to choose time for it over so many other things that I love and that are important to me (like this newsletter). But I also know that this book is waiting for ME to choose IT. To pay attention to it. To bring it to life. And like someone once told me (or I read), ideas come to us as a gift, and it’s up to us to choose them. Because if we don’t, they will go and choose someone else.

So, I’ve collected a tiny mix of my favorite inspiration here. Mostly quotes from things I’ve read by people/writers/artists who found themselves at the beginning or the middle of things. Things they felt moved to do or make or become, even if it wasn’t 100% clear to them what exactly that would be. Like I do now. Even if there is a whole shit-ton of work waiting for me up the road to actually make it…I am here now, choosing it.

The cozy window seat I looked out most of the day while I was writing at Troutbeck’s library table. I don’t know who the dog Raki is in the portrait, but her company was reassuring to me.