If You Build It
LAST spring I took a Friday off from work. The three-day weekend was required to cash in on a birthday present given to me by my partner: a stay-at-home writing retreat. For those three days, he would be my residency coordinator, cook, groundskeeper, and pet-care provider. Knowing I work best on a schedule, he created an hourly breakdown of my days, including writing time, meals, exercise, breaks, and an optional social hour. He offered a menu from which I could choose three meals a day, then prepared them for me. I had the option to eat alone in my “studio” (a small room that serves as an office in our one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, New York) or with my fellow residents (him, our dog, and our cat). He took care of the chores we normally tackle together on weekends— the laundry and cleaning, the errands and groceries—and left me alone. I recused myself from other creative projects and social commitments and readied my desk with my favorite essay collections, a cup of coffee and a glass of water, a notebook, and a laptop. I turned off my phone and Wi-Fi. Each day I woke up to an alarm, ate breakfast, wrote for a few hours, ate lunch, wrote for a few hours, took a break for a run and a stretch (or a beer and a snack) and wrote for a few hours more. Then I ate dinner and relaxed with a glass of bourbon and
