Why I like going to these writer's retreats

Twice a year, March and June, I take myself off down the Great Ocean Road to a writer's retreat, hosted by Catherine Deveny at the marvellous Seacroft Estate. 

Dev is the most honest, generous, straight-talking, fun, encouraging person I have ever had the privilege of meeting. Part mentor, part arse-kicker (spending time with her is known as Vitamin Dev - or having a Dev enema) I'm honoured to call her a friend. And she hosts a bloody good retreat. And she knows that when she hands out the chocolate bribes, at least a couple of the Turkish Delights come my way. (And yes, I am that person.) She helps people to get out from their preconceived shells. 

There is more to the retreat than just writing. This time around I managed to cobble together a reasonable first draft of an article. 3000 words. Memoir style. With a publication in mind. There's a lot of work to do on it, but I got it done. For the most part, I sat and wrote this article rather than participate in the writing block prompts, but I got a few notes down for later reference.

Getting to hang around with 30 odd people with the same interests is a great thing. We're all writing something. There's the complete novices who want to give writing a go. There are people working on their novels, there's a couple of journalists and published writers who come along. It's wonderful to talk with people who have an understanding of the process. Writing can be an insular activity - these retreats make it less so. 

Then there's the people - who are just awesome. In the five or six of these that I've been to there's barely been a bung one. There's a growing group of repeat offenders who come at certain times. There's the posse that come in March - brilliant people, who are becoming firm friends. June has a different crowd - some of the same people, and a lot of others who are just as wonderful. Most of us are professionals, in our middle aged, many have children, most lean to the political left. It's like I've found my tribe. This is a huge part of it all. 

Also, these are people who I feel comfortable singing in the shower in front of. I think I was sprung on Sunday morning. I take a room in the chapel - an old confessional, refurbished with a very comfortable single bed and nightstand. The great thing about the chapel rooms is that the bathroom is inside. All other rooms have showers and toilets in an outside block - which are freezing in winter. After The Bathing of the Lunatics on Sunday morning I finally made it to the shower just as the writing block was starting. I sing in the shower. I should apologise for my half-hearted rendition of Three Dog Night's Joy to the World. It really is a great shower song. 

Oh yes, The Bathing of the Lunatics. This happens first thing on Sunday morning. We gather, come rain or come shine at 7.15 a.m. We walk down to the beach. We get to the secluded swimming section. We strip off - most of us buck naked and throw ourselves into the Southern Ocean. In March, it's quite warm. In the middle of winter, it's freezing. It's enriching and cathartic. One of our number, a doctor, put it well. "Where else to you see a mob of naked, middle-aged women going into the ocean without a care in the world. It's beautiful. There should be more of it. "

One of the moments of the retreat happened at the beach on Sunday Morning. One of the crew quit her job on the way down to Seacroft, fed up with the conservative approach of the company. A repeat offender, she had never done the ritual bathing. She stripped off her clothes and ran screaming into the water, "FUCK THE LNP!" It was a joy to behold. She came back five minutes later, cleansed. I look forward to hearing about the next episode in her story. She'll be back next March. It's an honour to hang out with her. 

Then there is the food. Our caterer, Ash, from Taylor Made Events serves us up hearty, tasty, sometimes downright decadent food. His poke bowls are amazing. We have the best roast potatoes with grilled salmon on the Saturday night. I love that I'm saved the crunchy bits from the cauliflower cheese (the only way I eat cauliflower) We are looked after royally. The staff, mostly Dev's family members, are just wonderful to us all. I come out of this feeling spoiled. 

I mean, why would I not treat myself to this twice a year? 

It's brilliant. 

I'm blessed to be able to do this. 

Today's song: