I am at my Dad's in Leicestershire, on my version of a writer's retreat. Wilbur has come too. We're finishing the first draft of DAUGHTERS OF THE SUN - on a deadline, set by the show's fantastic dramaturg Ellie Horne, of tomorrow. (I think we're going to make it, Ellie).
I wake up early in the morning to write - if I'm awake by 5am, then I'll be started by around 5.45am (some breakfast and a bit of faffing). They live next door to a dog kennel & cattery, and there's a huge roar of barking at around 8/8.30am when they give breakfast to the doggos. Unfortunately the fence is too high for me to see this great pupper feeding, but this is the time I know to stop for a while.
If I'm in London, this is the time I'd go to the gym. But, here, I'll take Wilbur for a walk. Listen to a podcast (unfortunately it'll be too early for that day's daily podcasts, so maybe something from yesterday's Today show or yesterday's Baseball Tonight). Hang out with my Dad and his wife.
There'll be another writing session in the afternoon - not nearly as long. Most of the day's work would be done in that early morning session.
It's different to London - and, weirdly, a little more difficult to concentrate. Maybe I miss that morning exercise session. But, also, the countryside has never been my home. I grew up by the sea in Folkestone. And I've lived in a city for 8 years now. So this little village doesn't give me old home comforts or anything like that.
If I do another retreat, maybe I need to do it by the sea.
