In which the author takes off alone, midwinter, for two weeks in England and Scotland.

In two weeks, I’m heading out. I’ll fly to Manchester, England and stay a week at the Arvon Writers Center in West Yorkshire, at the former home of the poet Ted Hughes. It’s called Lumb Bank and the photos look like a Jane Austen movie: rolling hills and gray stone with vines.

From there, I’ll travel north to Scotland, for a week at another writers retreat called Moniack Mhor, near Inverness. From what I can see, it looks a little wilder up in the Highlands of Scotland. I’m thinking howling winds and striding over foggy moors. Bring it on, Heathcliff! I’ll end the trip with a few days in Edinburgh with an old friend who lives near Oxford.

Of course, I’m wondering, what if I’m uninspired to write? Will everything be okay back at home while I’m gone? What to take with me? How weird will it be to share a bathroom with four (or more) strangers?

More to come.