A couple of weeks ago, a friend of mine talked about how she had gotten away for a 'Reading Vacation'. The idea sounded glorious, and between February and March, I realized that I was in a bit of a rut, and needed to take some time to step away from the computer and everything for a while. I'm not good at taking time off; it's not how my brain works.
When I'm at home, I tend to drift towards the computer and check in on things — news, Facebook, Twitter, rather than doing what I'd rather be doing: reading, writing, walking the dog, and so forth. Fortunately, I've got an option: my parents own a house way up in upstate New York. Not the NYC version of Upstate (between Albany and NYC), but the actual upstate. Miles from the Canadian Border. The nearest store is half an hour's drive, and it takes at least two hours to get up there, driving through fairly rural territory. Best of all, there's no internet, or even cell service.
So, I packed up the car: a trip to the grocery store to get food for a couple of days. Clothes. Salt, in case the driveway was iced over (I'm in dire need of new snow tires). A bucket of dog food. The dog. My laptop. A small pile of books. A couple of audiobooks for the drive. We set off.
I've written about the books that I get here in the house, and I always feel as though I have an insurmountable reading list. Case in point, I had a couple of books that I'd had for ages that I just didn't get around to reading to hit the on-sale date for review. I polished off Meg Howrey's The Wanderers on the drive up, as well as the podcast S-Town.
I packed along Kim Stanley Robinson's amazing novel New York 2140, as well as its audiobook. When Tiki and I went out for a walk, I listened to a chapter in each direction, and picked up the book later. I also brought along Timothy Zahn's Thrawn, and was sucked right back into the Star Wars universe in a way that I haven't been in over a decade. Brian Staveley's Skullsworn, John Kessel's The Moon and the Other, and Ruthanna Emrys' Winter Tide. Between them all, I think I read nearly 900 pages.
The area the house sits in is pretty desolate, all summer cottages and lake homes that are occupied a couple of months out of the year. Cars zipped by the highway, but I only saw a couple of neighbors down the road in quick glimpses, like the deer that forged paths in the deep snow in the woods around the place. Most of all, it was quiet. No distractions. I lounged on the couch, reading chapters at a time, or worked on a long-simmering writing project, finally making some headway. I cleaned the floors, organized the books and cooked when I needed a break from words. Tiki and I went on long walks up and down the back roads, looking for deer.
I think what I needed was the solitude. Just some time to get away from everyone and everything. It was refreshing to sit by myself, or to walk alone, knowing that there's nobody around for miles. I'm already trying to figure out when I can go back.