High on a hill was a lonely ghostherd

Nearly a year ago I was excited about two books coming out the following year, the ghost world was my oyster, baby, and I got a little crazy. I said yes to coming to a haunted mansion writers' retreat. The haunted part wasn't crazy: the writing part was. I've rarely been disciplined enough to focus on writing while surrounded by people, even those who main purpose was to work on their own projects and tell me to shoo, but I couldn't pass up the opportunity to combine the prospect of a reportedly highly haunted mansion and hanging out with old friends who just happened to be fabulous authors. Kismet, right?

Now I'm trapped in the Northern California highlands with ghost critters, very noisy spectres with a penchant for early morning furniture rearrangement, and a bit of a sticky wicket. Was one of our own dabbling with the devil? I'm going to let you decide. For the first time in days I slept like a rock after this event, I'm not sure if that makes me an enabler or just really really tired.

How is the writing going? Let's say I have high hopes on the business end of one project and this retreat will hopefully work into it in a few months. But for now I'm watching. And waiting. Every whisper will have a home in a short story and EVPs of bodies dragging in the rooms over our heads may pop up in Mooncussers or in my lectures in October.

Follow the updates on Twitter with the hashtag #HMR12 or me at @staceyigraham. Ask questions: get curious.

1 comment:

  1. You realize, of course, now that song will be stuck in my head all day?