When Debra Ate Vegetables
“Would you like to be the guest speaker at my writers’ retreat in Cumbria?”
On 30 May this year, I celebrated the launch of Paul Underwood’s book, Ninety More Tiny Windows, at Caffeinated Escapism in Alexandria. During the event, I sat next to Rosalyn Spencer, who I had met virtually during a Write that Book online event. Rosalyn knew Paul, who knew me, so the stars were aligned that night.
“I’ve heard lots about your writing and your self-publishing services,” said Rosalyn. “Would you like to be the guest speaker at my writers’ retreat in Cumbria?”
Suddenly distracted from Ninety More Tiny Windows, I may have stared at Rosalyn, open-mouthed.
“You want me to be a guest speaker in Cumbria. The Lake District. I’ll pack my bags now,” I replied.
As it happened, the retreat was during our holiday in the Lake District in Evie the campervan. Mr M and Florence would be with me. I wondered how I would broach the subject with him that, during the week he had forced himself to enjoy a week in a tin box on wheels (Mr M’s words, not mine), I would be leaving him to be the guest at a writers’ retreat. However, that retreat was cancelled, so I didn’t need to sweet-talk him. But Rosalyn asked me if I’d be the speaker at her self-publishing retreat in September. You know what my answer was, don’t you?
Fast forward a few months, and I picked Paul up at Lenzie station. Writers seem to stick together like limpets. When you get one, you usually get two. We had a lovely drive down the motorway, stopping at Annandale Water Services for lunch. We had to. Not because we wanted to. We had to. You understand, don’t you? Then we had the final hour or so down the M6 to Longthwaite Writers’ Retreat at Wigton. I’d never been, but Google Maps assured me it knew exactly where I needed to go. Paul said he knew exactly where I needed to go. Paul doesn’t drive! Rosalyn sent a short novel on WhatsApp, telling me where I needed to go. I knew where I was going to go. Let’s just say we had a little scenic tour around the villages and country roads around Carlisle and Wigton. We got there eventually.
It was worth it. What a place. A beautifully restored cottage with rooms that were made for writing, a garden with a summer house, a stream running through the garden, and an apple tree that had the biggest apples I have ever seen weighing down the branches. Skiddaw in the distance. This was going to be a perfect weekend.
But. And it was a big but. The retreat serves only vegan food. Yes, vegan. I can hear you all laughing now, knowing my hatred of vegetables. In my defence, if I’m eating out and somebody has taken the trouble to cook something for me, I can eat most things. I can’t say I enjoy them, but I’ll eat them and be gracious. Except for mushrooms. Mushrooms, for me, are like slugs. Not that I’ve ever eaten slugs, but I imagine that’s what they taste like. The thought of eating them turns my stomach.
As I walked into the retreat, Ian, Rosalyn’s husband and our chef for the weekend, was in the kitchen proudly finishing preparing dinner. Leek and mushroom pie. I looked at the mushrooms; Ian looked at my face, and then at the mushrooms.
“You don’t like mushrooms, do you?”
I was horrified. Paul giggled. Rosalyn gasped.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make something else.”
And he did. All weekend, Ian cooked the most amazing dishes that I wolfed down. Risotto, pies, pasta dishes, crumbles, cheesecakes. All vegan. All delicious. The star of the show? Eve’s pudding and hot custard. I had two portions.
I’m going to let you in on a secret. Before I set off from home, Mr M made me a little emergency parcel. He laughed at the idea of me trying to eat vegan food. No word of a lie, that parcel remained unopened and, now I think about it, it’s still in my suitcase I’ve not yet unpacked. That’s how good the food was. Thank you, Ian.
I always say that on any training course, workshop or meeting, the refreshments and catering can make or break it. Those attending can’t concentrate if they are hungry or thirsty. Throughout the retreat, we were served breakfast, cakes, bakes, biscuits, dinner (lunch if you’re not from Yorkshire), afternoon snacks, tea (dinner if you’re not from Yorkshire), and supper. All home-cooked. And if you’ve never tried porridge with peanut butter, you don’t know what you’re missing!
The first day of the retreat was about marketing. A dull subject, but necessary. Building your tribe before your book is published is vital. Between us, Paul and I spoke about Facebook, Instagram, LinkedIn, Substack, author websites, and different groups, networking meetings, events, and how writers can build their tribe around them and their writing.
I’m a writer who is very concerned about the growth of AI and how it will impact creatives, but I also recognise that we have to try to embrace it for the tools it can give us. Most authors are self-employed and don’t have the luxury of an admin, technical or marketing assistant. AI can be those things for us without touching our writing. I demonstrated how Claude (other AI models are available) can help schedule posts, solve technical problems, and run fast, efficient searches for events and groups near you to attend. And actually, as we searched for events for those attending the retreat, Claude suggested Words by the Water at the Theatre in Keswick. This was for the people attending, not me. But guess what, I saw that as an opportunity, and I have applied for next year.
I also showed that you can set your own restrictions on AI. When I first used Claude, I told him (I decided he’s a man) that he can help me with planning posts, dates, platforms, etc, but he can have absolutely no input into my writing. To demonstrate this, during the meeting, I asked Claude to write me a short story and gave him a subject. His response was immediate.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that for you.”
Of course, I then had to explain where I was and why I had asked him so that he didn’t think I’d lost the plot and now wanted him to write for me.
The second day focused on self-publishing. Between us, Paul and I have self-published 13 books, so we have lots of experience to share with others, including the pitfalls, mistakes to avoid, mistakes we’ve made and how to globally distribute your books. For the afternoon session, I did a live demonstration editing a Florence book in Affinity, the software I use for typesetting, exporting it as a PDF, and uploading it to IngramSpark for global distribution.
Photo: Paul Underwood
If I am not mistaken, next year there will be some more fabulous writers publishing their first books. For me, I’ll take a hint of pride that I spent the weekend in the Lakes surrounded by like-minded people who love words, helping them take their first steps into self-publishing.
With the workshops finished, Rosalyn surprised us with tickets to an author talk at Bookends in Carlisle with Victoria Bennett. Victoria is an author I didn’t know, but very quickly I realised I had so much in common with her. Her second book, The Apothecary by the Sea, takes you on her journey from life in the Lake District to living on Orkney. During the talk, she admitted that she’d been an Orkney stalker for many years, and could probably have been an estate agent there or a tour guide, long before she’d stepped foot on the island. I realised that actually, since first falling in love with the Lake District at the age of 17, I had been a Lake District stalker and could absolutely be a tour guide there. The Lakes to me are what Orkney is to Victoria.
Leaving the event and waiting for the bus to return to the retreat, we noticed the full moon shining brightly. Of course, Paul and I spent the next few minutes trying to catch the moon. I’m not bragging, but I think my photo of Paul is the best!
Photo: Paul Underwood
Photo: Paul Underwood (Photographer: Debra Murphy)
Rosalyn invited Paul and me to stay an extra day before heading back up to Scotland. Those of you who have read this week’s Debra Considers will know what happened beside Derwent Water. Here’s the link if you haven’t:
Debra Considers - What Grief Leaves Behind
The weather gods were on our side, and the views over the lake towards the fells and mountains were sublime. I was in heaven.
The drive back up to Scotland was full of laughter, reflection and ideas being formed for future events, stories, and books. It was a slightly longer journey, when after driving for a while, Paul announced that we had to go back because he’d left his jacket on the chair in the kitchen. Not just his jacket. His jacket with his house keys in the pocket! Picture this: driving down a country road, needing to turn around, but not knowing the roads, the signs, and Google Maps pointing me in the direction of Scotland. I’m surprised it didn’t say, “Make a U-turn now,” when I finally found a roundabout to take us back towards the retreat. Despite the skills and knowledge Paul demonstrated over the weekend for IT, I realised then that these don’t extend to resetting a sat-nav in a car. We got there eventually and were finally once again on our way home an hour later.
Paul writes beautiful short stories, and I am pretty sure there will be one about the tree formation you usually see on the M74 that looks like a large capital T (some say it looks like something else!) that has been felled due to disease. It certainly looked a sad sight, with just a faint outline visible in the brown ground where dark green trees once proudly stood in formation.
If you are looking for a writing haven, look up Longthwaite Writers’ Retreat.
Next year, Paul and I will be returning to Longthwaite to deliver a three-day workshop, Friday 23 April – Sunday 25 April 2027. Day 1 will cover marketing your book before it’s published. Days 2 and 3 will cover self-publishing your book.
For me, I’m waiting patiently to see if I’m invited to be a speaker at Words by the Water beside Derwent Water next March. If not, I’ll be in the audience.
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Debra x