One of us (Alex) is currently on a writing retreat for academics. Here’s the setup: we have a room full of early-, mid- and late-career academics, we’re all on a synchronized schedule of writing blocks, we’ve committed to being there daily for about 5 hours each day, there are ample snacks and coffee, there are occasional prompts, and there are breaks for informal discussion and socializing. We’re glad to be in the trenches with potential clients, so this week we’re sharing some field notes, like anthropologists doing participant observation.
Writing is Grim and Wonderful
Everyone in this group is highly skilled in the mental and physical discipline of writing. It’s inspiring to see how much work all of us can accomplish in this compressed retreat. Usually, the room is crackling with intensity and most people are still and focused. It’s a special sight.
Against this calm background, the subtle physical signs of struggle are striking. There are fits and starts, both individually and collectively. At any given time, people are staring off into space, stretching their bodies, fidgeting, or staring down something in the writing with knitted brow. It helps to notice this, since it both validates and dissipates the inner struggle. It’s universal. It’s just a part of the job!
Writers often over-fixate on the negative aspects of writing. But the overall vibe of the sessions is joyful and temporarily energizing. Even if what we produce can never quote match the vaulting ambition of the original idea, it’s a wonderful, almost magical thing to be able to communicate in these deep, extended ways. The perfect is the enemy of the good-enough. And there’s general consensus that reaching good-enough is great cause for celebration.
Solidarity in Struggle
There’s something very powerful about being stuck, looking up from the notebook or laptop, and seeing a highly-acclaimed, well-known academic doing the very same thing! It pierces through the hierarchy and incorrect projections that still pervade the system.
Our conversations tend to be focused around the struggle of writing. We’ve found we are all expert practitioners of the struggle to survive in a fast-paced, demanding environment that values nothing but productivity. How do we produce quality work in a system that cares only about quantity? The central tension of academic writing is finding a way to write a lot and to write really well.
Inner Doubt and Editor Brain
The main recurring theme of the banter and commiseration between writing sessions has been that writer brain is beset on all sides by editor brain. Almost every academic is constantly fighting a battle to do deep work without slipping into the relatively shallower work of fiddling with words, making structural changes, or chasing new ideas. (All of which are important, but aren’t really writing.)
Even incredibly sophisticated and productive writers—some of the senior academics here—seem to constantly find new ways to slip out of deep work. For most of us, wry humour about this tendency is the best coping mechanism, since humour holds the tension between real pain and the need to release the pain. If we go too far in either direction, either diving into the pain and beating ourselves up, or suppressing with positivity, we’re not dealing with the problem effectively.
Tools and Fuel
The physical tools of writing in the 21st century are: a laptop (universal), a notebook (almost universal), caffeine, and snacks. We’ve had some conversations about productivity technology. There’s no need to discuss laptops. There are some tablet-like tools designed for no distraction, but the reviews from power users are mixed, trending towards negative. Although some tools can help for specific problems, we probably can’t engineer our way out of the torrent of distraction. There’s no substitute for discernment.
We’ve also had some conversations about optimal brain food, but the consensus seems to be that when we’re optimizing writing output, there’s no room to optimize anything else. So snack away, hopefully on something that’s not too nutritionally empty! One surprising observation: mid- and late-career academics seem to drink less coffee than early-career academics—perhaps because academics tend to burn out their caffeine receptors during those early years of frantic productivity.
The Writing Space
The room we are writing in helps with the work. There’s contemporary art on the walls, some of which is pretty funny. This is very helpful. We’re also on the top floor of a building that foregrounds a bigger sky. These little cues are tools for mini-contemplation and quick re-focusing.
We hope you find this field report useful. It adds some on-the-ground detail to what we’ve been writing about over the the past little while. While most writers still work alone or in small groups, these elements are helpful in designing successful writing retreats. We’re working on rolling out something retreat-like at a smaller scale ourselves, so stay tuned!