A New Home by the Sea
And opportunities for you to come write with me!
Hello! I’ve got homes on the brain today—because of events in my own life and after reading a series of beautiful posts by
reflecting on themes of belonging and home ownership—or the difficulty of achieving that dream. She writes, for instance,Perhaps you know this feeling. That sense of being between places, between identities, between the home you left and the home you haven’t yet found. It’s a peculiar kind of homesickness - not for a specific place, but for the feeling of belonging somewhere.
Boy do I know that feeling!
I’m wondering how many of you have found a home that feels right to you—and what that looks like. Or are you, like me, still searching for one? (Tanya has found hers, by the way, but it’s a home she’ll never own herself. Luckily, she gets to host retreats there!)
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A New Home
I’ve just returned from a trip to see the cottage I’ll be moving to in August, when I return from my month in Paris. I knew from the videos that I would like it, but seeing it in person, I loved it. I’m excited to begin my new life there. I’m only able to rent it for 10 months—there is an expiration date for this particular home—but that will be much longer than I’ve lived anywhere since I left the US nearly three years ago.
As many of you know, I thought I had found the place that felt like home—Scotland. I loved the rocks and the sea, and Edinburgh is really the only city I can imagine living in. But the kind of place I was looking for—a furnished cottage with character—is nearly impossible to find there.
Plus, on my recent visits testing whether I’d like to move back, it didn’t feel right. I’m not the same person I was when I lived there last year. It felt like going backwards, instead of moving forwards.
So I broadened my search and found the most perfect little place, which happened to be in the exact opposite direction—in a village on the southern coast of England. A small cathedral city is a short bus ride away, and London is two hours. But even better, a short walk from cottage are some of the most beautiful, unspoilt beaches in the country.
The house is a “bungalow,” meaning a one-story home, and only about twenty years old. But the builders used a lot of reclaimed materials, giving it the character of a much older cottage.
And there is a little garden where I can grow some things and enjoy the morning sun.
Until I actually saw the house and met the owner, I couldn’t quite believe it was real! But now the papers are signed and the deposit paid, and it’s all becoming a reality.
A Peaceful Retreat
As I walked around the village, I had a sudden flash of an idea that I’ve been seriously mulling over ever since. It was one of those lightbulb moments, which actually have been happening quite a bit lately, as I’ve loosened the grip of vertigo and anxiety.
Those of you who have been with me long enough to remember my pandemic-era dreams of leaving academia and starting a new life, might also remember that I have long wanted to work with writers in person by leading retreats. As I’ve moved around and lived in small apartments, I’ve fantasized of owning a home large enough to host writers periodically. But that is a hazy vision far off on the horizon still, and it may never come to pass if housing prices continue to climb.
But I’ve realized that I don’t have to wait until I own my own retreat-ready home. Walking around the village where I’ll be living come August, I began to have much more vivid visions. I could see writers gathering there, working together and alone, strolling on the beach, and heading home after a few days, renewed and revived.
All of this was so clear to me that I began exploring the possibilities. As it turns out, there is a beautiful 5BR home up the street from me that is available for holiday lets.
And there are others scattered around as well. Plus there is a lovely B&B in the village . . .
. . . and a very nice pub with rooms to stay in upstairs. My friend and I had an excellent lunch there, so I can vouch for the food. They also have my favorite non-alcoholic beer on tap (Lucky Saint), which seemed like a great sign!
There are more details to explore, but this is feeling right on so many levels. (More next time about how I’m finally learning to follow my intuition instead of setting goals.)
What do you think?
Do you like the idea of joining me in my new seaside village for a few days of writing and camaraderie? I’m thinking 3-4 nights in November, and perhaps again in the spring. (November is the earliest I can manage it, as I’ll be in Sicily co-leading a retreat with Cummari in October. The weather in November in the UK may not be ideal for long beach walks, but it may be perfect for writing. :)
There would also be opportunities throughout the months to have people come on an individual basis, or with a friend, to have a bespoke writing retreat with one-on-one coaching available.
If any of that intrigues, drop me a note. (Reply to this email, post in the comments, or DM me in Substack.) I’ll put you on a first-dibs list for all the details when they are ready, which I hope will be soon. And feel free to ask any questions.
How exciting is that? I’m smiling writing this—which is how I know it’s the right thing to do. It’s what I’ve longed to do for so long—meet with writers in person, put on my teaching hat again, and share what I’ve been learning about writing and living. And now feels like the right time—or a right time.
I don’t have that large, retreat-ready home I’ve dreamed of. I don’t have roots anywhere yet. But this beautiful Sussex seaside village feels like the right place to begin working with writers again—not just online but actually in person.
In case you are new here or don’t know much about my former life, I was a literature professor for 23 years in the US before coming to the UK and pursuing an MA in Creative Writing with Jeanette Winterson. I’m a published nonfiction author of trade and academic books. I’ve written for LitHub, the Washington Post, and other publications. My website has more info.
Now, it’s your turn. What’s on your mind? What’s come up for you reading this week’s post? Have you found that place that feels like home? What plans or dreams have been waiting for the right time? Does a writing retreat on the English coast sound like a great idea?
Sending much love and seaside breezes!
—Anne
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In case you missed last week’s post:
Time to Bloom Again
“I find most all of us are Late Bloomers in one way or another. You’re a Late Bloomer if you raise children, because your children, you might say, become your whole creative life in many ways, and you bloom right along with them for decades, including into and through the years of your elderhood.
I am between homes right now, in the middle of a divorce and having sold our marital home. In our 18-year marriage, my husband and I moved 3 times, basically every 5 - 7 years, for complicated reasons. I'm now in a two-room apartment with a bath that is shockingly expensive. I'm mourning the loss of my home. Or my many homes. I would love to be in the home in which I raised my kids, so that they could return to it with their children, but I am not, and my older son and his wife have taken over that role. I'm nearly 69 and starting over is feeling very, very hard. It's not clear that when the financial dust settles post-divorce that there will be enough money for me to purchase anything, especially not where I live in New England. However, I've learned that I need two things: direct access to the outdoors and a green space of my own, even if it's just a deck or a patio. Something to aspire to have!
Fabulous! I love this place.
The word "trust" comes up for me reading this post. You had an image of workshops and, although it didn't show up in the FORM you thought it would, you were moving toward it all the time. hoorah!