So I’m back home after spending four days with a dozen writers (and three ghost hunters) at the Haunted Mansion Writers Retreat and the first thing I notice is that someone forgot to ring the bell for breakfast this morning. And no one made me any homemade peach scones or banana nut muffins. I think I preferred being served three meals a day to foraging for my own sustenance in my kitchen cabinets.
But I have my memories and photos of a wonderful and spooky and intimate weekend with friends new and old. While I admittedly didn’t get much writing done other than my blog posts (1000 words on the next book), I figure I can always find time to write. But how often do I get to hang out in a room with soft couches and feather pillows and enjoy the energy and witty banter of ten other writers all day long?
Or go wandering through the house with a couple of witnesses and an EMF meter to see if you can commune with ghosts?
Or wander down to the creepy pond? Or mock the ritualistic sacrificial table? Or play croquet with Eunice and Dan and get all Heathers on each other?
Although the last night didn’t provide the supernatural excitement of the first evening, there were still enough spooky occurrences to provide several of us with goosebumps. But the atmosphere, the location, the house, and especially the people, made for one of the most memorable weekends I’ve ever had the pleasure of experiencing. And, of course, I can’t forget to mention the unparalleled quality of the food.
By the way, our last meal (lunch on Sunday) consisted of pesto pasta with roasted vegetables and Italian sausage, homemade potato fennel bread, mixed green salad with red pepper balsamic vinaigrette dressing, and homemade chocolate mint cookies for dessert.
Now I need to go scrounge up a breakfast of corn flakes and rice milk and whole wheat toast with peanut butter. Yum.