Why I Still Believe in Writing Retreats (and Why You Might, Too)

More than a decade ago, I hosted my very first writing retreat in a rustic lodge inside Yosemite National Park. The accommodations were simple—bare-bones rooms with bunk beds, shared meals, and a circle of overstuffed couches where we gathered to write, vent, reflect, and dream. There were no curated meals or spa treatments. But what we had was more powerful: time, community, and a shared commitment to making space for our work. 

We were a group of academics—mothers, caregivers, first-gens, mid-career scholars, brand-new assistant professors, graduate students—figuring out not just how to write, but how to live as writers inside academia. That week wasn’t about productivity hacks or hitting word counts. It was about being part of something. We weren’t just trying to survive the academy. We were imagining new ways of belonging to it. 

Fast forward ten years, and I found myself welcoming 36 brilliant women to the Creative Connections Retreat on the island of Amorgos, Greece. The views stretched endlessly across the Aegean Sea. The beds were plush. Every meal tasted like it was prepared by someone who knew exactly what we needed. 

But even with all the beauty and luxury, the heart of it stayed the same: time, intention, community. The courage to pause and ask: What do I really want from this career? What am I ready to let go of? What am I here to build? 

These are questions I return to again and again—at writing retreats, yes, but also in hallway conversations, coffee shop catch-ups, and late-night texts with fellow scholars. They’re the questions that keep us honest when the job market feels bleak, when the teaching load is crushing, when tenure feels like golden handcuffs. 

And here’s what I tell my students, my mentees, and anyone trying to make sense of a life in academia: you don’t have to be the smartest person in the room to succeed. You just have to learn how to stay grounded, focused, consistent, and connected. 

Skills matter more than smarts. 

That’s why I lead retreats, teach graduate seminars, and write books not just about theory, but about writing habits, time management, creating space for creativity, and long-term vision. Because the work we do is real and necessary—but so is the way we do it. 

If you’ve ever found yourself wondering, How do people stay in this profession and not lose themselves?, you’re not alone. I’ve asked that same question on mountaintops in Peru, on beaches in Belize, in conference hotel lobbies, and while walking the Aegean coastline. And what I’ve found is this: we need each other. We need space to think, write, and rest. And yes, sometimes, we need a gentle nudge to remember that thriving is still possible—even in academia. 

I’m already dreaming up the 2026 Creative Connections Retreat. We will head to the breathtaking Dolomites in northern Italy—where jagged peaks, alpine meadows, and cozy mountain lodges will set the stage for deep reflection and joyful connection. Imagine writing at sunrise, hiking after lunch, and ending each day building connections over delicious Italian food. 

If this resonates with you, maybe it’s time you joined us. Sign up here to be notified when our next retreat is announced. 

In the meantime, what questions are guiding you through your current season? I’d love to hear them. Let’s keep building community together. We need it now more than ever.