“Now is the worst time of the year to query an agent or publisher” by Brian Henry

Now is the worst time of the year to query an agent or publisher

~ But it’s the best time to plan your strategy

So, it’s Christmas break and you plan to finish your novel, polish your query letter, and with New Year’s coming up fast, you’re full of resolution to land yourself an agent this year. Wonderful. But hold up. Right now is the worst time of the year to query an agent.

You want to avoid querying an agent when:

      -         She’s not in the office

      -         She is in the office but not working

      -         She’s trying to get work out of the way before going on holiday

      -         She’s crazy busy 

So, forget sending queries during the holiday season. Starting near the beginning of December, the publishing world begins shutting down. Yes, agents and editors are still in the office, but they’re trying to clear their desks before the holidays start. The last thing they want is to look at queries.  

As Christmas gets closer, less and less work gets done, and agents are disinclined to pitch your manuscript anyway, because they know that editors at publishing houses are doing just as little work; they’re more likely to be sipping eggnog than looking at new manuscripts.

Then from Christmas to New Year’s, odds are no one’s even in the office. Come January 2 (or the first Monday after New Year’s), agents are back in the office and discovering that the work hasn’t gone away. They have 967 emails cluttering their In Boxes, a pile of manuscripts they should really have read a couple weeks ago, and in general so much work that they (almost) regret taking time off.

Do they want to read queries now? Hardly. Give them a week (or maybe two) to get things under control again. But then! January is maybe one of the best times to query. Everyone's trying to turn over a new leaf – and for agents and editors that includes getting through their queries or slush pile and finding that fabulous new author who they're going to fall in love with.

And right now – during the Christmas lull – this is a great time to plan your campaign, to comb through the postings about agents on Quick Brown Fox {and there are other sites}, to make your lists of possible agents and preferred agents, or to decide which publishers you want to pitch, and to write targeted queries. 

You'll find all sorts of agents who are actively looking for authors here {and scroll down}; agents who are looking for kid lit, picture books to young adult, plus usually all sorts of other things here; and Canadian agents looking for authors here. (And see much more about finding agents looking for particular kinds of books here.) 

For information about publishers accepting unagented manuscripts see here {and scroll down}.

If you haven’t done so yet, trash your generic query and make a New Year’s resolution to write only personalized queries from now on – at least to those agents you’re particularly interested in. Because once the holidays are out of the way, this is an excellent time of year to query agents or submit to editors. Better than the fall, I think, which tends to be crazy busy in the publishing world. 

The very best time of the year to query is probably the summer, particularly August, when agents and editors aren't working so much to deadline. They may be on vacation, but for agents and editors, "vacation" means time to read queries and manuscripts, preferably with her feet up and a cool drink to hand. 

But do you want to wait six months before you start querying? I hope not. Also make plans to sharpen your writing skills. We have two writing retreats coming up in the new year: April 25 – 28 at Elm Hurst Inn & Spa (see here), and June 13 – 16  at Arowhon Pines Resort in Algonquin Park (see here).

On Saturday, March 1, I'll be leading a fabulous workshop: “Writing for Children & for Young Adults” with Patricia Ocampo senior editor at Kids Can Press and a former literary agent, so she understands the publishing industry from a few angles. Details to come, but if you want to reserve a seat, email me at: brianhenry@sympatico.ca

But the best thing you can do for yourself as a writer might be to sign up for a weekly course. Check out all upcoming classes, workshops, and retreats here.

But what if you've been so busy sending out a flurry of queries that you haven't gotten around to reading this posting till New Year's Day?

Well, Don’t worry, be happy. A few agents and editors will have used the dead time in the publishing world to catch up on things – like reading queries. Some are extra dutiful and will get to your query eventually even if you sent it in December 24. As for the rest, give it a reasonable amount of time and re-query all agents and editors who haven’t sent you a reject. At least, that’s what I’d do.  –Brian

P.S. Still looking for the ideal present for yourself? Check out this list of 77+ Gifts for Writers here.

“The Corporation” by David Bennett

 

Belinda was like a diamond, George thought, looking at her from across the room: very beautiful but very, very hard. And she could cut just like a diamond.  As Belinda ascended through the ranks of the Corporation there were inevitably conflicts with those whose jobs she aspired to. She won them all. Her erstwhile rivals often disappeared completely, becoming corporate un-persons, their names never mentioned again.

One of many rumours about her was that she had secret political influence. Whatever the truth, once Belinda entered the ranks of the senior vice presidents, an aura of fear spread around her: not a good person to cross so people didn’t.

So why was he waiting for her as the conference room emptied out at the end of the meeting?

The simple answer was Belinda had asked him to.  And her requests were not to be denied, at least not by someone as junior to her as George was.

But the full truth was he would have waited for her anyway. Belinda was twelve years his senior but still attractive.  And this attractive woman was interested in him. Nothing public. She was far too sophisticated for that. But there had been a small, nearly invisible current of attraction, especially in those sudden smiles and very brief remarks, all of which were deliberately ambiguous, bestowed on him.

Finally, there were just the two of them left in the room. But engrossed in typing on a tablet Belinda didn’t seem to notice him. Perhaps a remark to remind her he was still here.

“I took the monorail this morning,” he said.

“And you were late this morning,” she said, not looking up from the tablet.

“Wow. How did you find that out?”

“I find out everything,” Belinda said, finally looking up. “I hope I’m not going to be disappointed in you. You’re an attractive young man – though don’t let it go to your head.  And you definitely have intelligence; no one gets the kind of marks you got in business school without being smart. But you’ve just done a dumb thing so I have to hope it’s a one-off.”

“Supporting the monorail is civic-minded.”

“Going anywhere near the monorail is dumb. It breaks down all the time. The thing is completely dysfunctional. As for being civic-minded, that’s just for appearances, as I hope you’ve fully realized by now. The Corporation exists for one, and only one, reason: to make money.”

“Are you telling me not to take it anymore?”

“I’m telling you to smarten up. Start acting like someone who’s bright enough to hang with me.”

Hang with her? That sounded like a definite proposition. Better show some enthusiasm.

“Yes,” he said, and smiled. “I’d like that.”

“That’s better,” Belinda said, smiling for the first time – a great contrast to her former and usual severe expression. She pushed her chair back, stood up, without smoothing down the dress that had ridden half way up her thighs, walked slowly over to him and sat down next to him. Belinda leaned over and put one finger tip on his knee. She added a second fingertip, a shade closer to his crotch. She passed him a business card.

“That’s the address,” she said. “Be there at eight. I know you like good wine and I have some very good vintages. And then we can do some other interesting things.”

The finger moved another fraction closer to his crotch with just a little more pressure

He opened his mouth to tell her how much he looked forward to the evening when he thought of Jackson, her young boyfriend.

“Sounds great,” he said. “I’m just hoping we won’t be interrupted, say by Jackson, for instance.”

“No, no one will interrupt us – least of all Jackson, who is no longer with us.”

“I didn’t know he’d left the company.”

“Jackson had an unfortunate accident, which is why he’s no longer here. Very sad, of course,” she said, not looking at all mournful.

“What happened?”

“He jumped off his balcony. He’d apparently been suicidal for a while, which is why you haven’t seen him around the office. I guess he had a nervous breakdown.”

George remembered Jackson. They had both worked in the same office and would sometimes go out for drinks after work. One boozy evening, after they’d both had far too many margueritas, Jackson let it slip he had a relationship with Belinda, wanted to break it off but was afraid to.

“She’s pressuring me not to go back,” he said, without specifying where Belinda wanted him not to go back to. “It’s all we talk about now. That and her non stop threats. It’s all becoming too much.”

George had told him to keep quiet about it and after that they had by unspoken but common consent veered away from the subject of Belinda.

Jackson committed suicide. Jesus!  This gave him a whole new perspective on Belinda. What the hell was with that?  Jackson was worried and maybe a bit afraid. But he didn’t seem that depressed. Of course, George didn’t know him that well so maybe things were going on with Jackson’s psyche that he didn’t – and in fact, couldn’t – know. Perhaps. Still, the news unsettled him.

“That must have been right after your trip to Turkey,” he said to Belinda.

“Listen,” she said, “I have to go. Appointments and so on. So, see you this evening?”

He was being dismissed. “Absolutely,” he said, getting up to leave.

He was deep in thought during his walk back to his office. Most disquieting was Jackson’s suicide. But something else was competing for his attention. Why was he thinking about Belinda’s trip to Turkey? 

Then he remembered. There had been a brief mention in the news, which was not pursued, about the Corporation being involved in an alleged bribery. Belinda’s name had not been mentioned. The article had mentioned “a junior manager” as someone the Turks had wanted to talk to, but apparently, this junior manager had already left Turkey. 

Could this have been Jackson?  And even if it was, how, if at all, did this have anything to do with Jackson’s suicide?  George didn’t know the answer to either question but he had a feeling – a very uneasy feeling – that they did.

When he got back to his office he phoned the manager of the Turkey project. The manager liked George and had even tried to get him to come and work on the project. So it only took a few minutes of seemingly casual questions to elicit that, yes, Jackson had accompanied Belinda to Turkey as her assistant and that they both had left Turkey very suddenly in the middle of negotiations.

Allegedly, it was because Belinda had, as the press release put it, “pressing health issues,” though she seemed well enough when she got back to the office.

It was, he thought, all he needed to know. The conclusions forced themselves upon him, despite efforts not to think about them. So, given what he now knew, what to do about his evening date with Belinda? 

He couldn’t think of an excuse not to go that wouldn’t antagonize her. And lurking underneath, although he told himself he was a fool to feel any such thing, was his desire for Belinda, unextinguished by his new discoveries. Besides, given her obvious attraction to him, how nasty would she be to him?

There was a concierge at her building, a slightly disdainful Englishman. “You’re not in the book,” he said as though this was a serious offence. “I’ll have phone up.”

“You’re early,” she said when she came to the phone. “I’m still on the treadmill. So give me a couple of minutes, okay?”  This turned out to be nearly ten minutes.

After Belinda finally called back to let him in the concierge suddenly announced: “You have to be wanded before you can go up.”

“It’s just a social call,” George said. “She knows me.”

“No wand, no admittance,” said the unsmiling concierge, standing up from his desk.

After the wanding, conducted very thoroughly, George rode up on the elevator to Belinda’s penthouse suite. When she opened the door, he beheld something that looked like Versailles or the Summer Palace, all white and gold and enormous.

Belinda was still wearing the same business suit she had worn at the office. So much for the treadmill.

“Follow me,” she said, her tone curt and her expression unsmiling. She led him into a pantry off the kitchen. This was not, George thought, where you would receive guests, especially the romantic kind.

“The manager of the Turkey project called me. He said you’d called him.”

“Yes, I called him this afternoon a few minutes after I left you.”  No point in denying it.

“What fucking business is it of yours what I did in Turkey or who I was there with?”  The swear words surprised him. He had never heard her talk like this before.

“Jackson was my friend. I was curious about what happened to him.  So I called someone who might know something. That’s all.”

“You know what I think?” she said, leaning towards him and poking him in the chest. “I think you were checking up on me. That’s not your job. Your job is to do what you’re damn well told. And you didn’t do that, did you?”

He grabbed her hand to stop her poking him again. “We’re not in the army. Obedience, yes. Blind obedience, no. I get to ask questions once in a while.”

“That’s where you’re so, so wrong, George. You don’t ever get to ask questions about things like bribery allegations, suicides or anything else that might cause a scandal for the Corporation. Never!  This is the Corporation. Everything you have you owe to the Corporation. So yes, you do owe blind obedience. That’s how it works. Those who won’t conform to that have to be weeded out.”

“It’s not a religion, it’s just a company.”

“No, George, it is a religion – our religion. And we must serve it just like a religion. I’m sad you don’t understand that but it means we must part company. I’ll show you out.”

***

The email the next morning was sent to all the corporation’s employees:

We have lost a valued employee, George Sands, who succumbed to injuries sustained in a tragic accident last night at the central monorail station. I am sure every staff member joins me in my condolences to his family. George was very well liked in our corporate community and he will be sorely missed. His family request that instead of flowers any donations be made in his name to United Way.

Belinda Lucas, Senior Vice President

***

David Bennett has now retired from the law and has returned to his first love: writing. Among other projects, he’s writing a collection of short stories each of which features a train station.

See upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and four-day retreats here. 

Read more short stories, essays, and reviews by your fellow writers here (and scroll down).

 

“Going Barefoot” by Tom Szakacs

  

“So, you guys are sure you’ve done this before right?” he asked as he unpacked the gear onto the beach.  The guide was in his thirties, with the bearing of a man who’d done this a thousand times before. 

“Oh yeah, we’re totally fine” answered Daryl, my oldest friend, with total assurance.  My brother Zol, our friend Nick, and I got busy readying the lifejackets and helmets, not daring to look up.  We left Daryl, a stuntman by trade, to do the talking. 

“Ok then, just remember, the pick-up zone is about five kilometers that way” the guide said, pointing off into the distance.  “Be sure to be off the water by five p.m.  You don’t want to be on the water in the dark.”

When he’d left, we were suited up with our lifejackets, helmets, and whatever we could find in our closets that passed for water shoes.  We picked up our kayaks and walked towards the cold Ottawa river.  I was 26 years old, about to do something very stupid. 

Months earlier, we’d begun planning for a boys’ getaway weekend.  Daryl and I had decided that it’d be really fun to go white-water kayaking in the world renowned, class III-V rapids in Ottawa.  Had I kayaked before?  Of course I had!  On a Grade 8 school trip to Camp Kandalore, I’d spent a tranquil morning on a still lake veering left and right trying to look skilled next to my love interest, Gillian Mullens.  This rigorous training made me among the most experienced in our group.

We got into our kayaks at the shore’s edge, each of us silently contemplative, like a parachutist at the moment before their leap.  Once in the water, Daryl and I decided to try our first barrel roll, an essential skill for what lay ahead.  I flipped upside down, feeling the sudden shock and panic of cold water on my chest.  I struggled to flip back upright and realized that unless a merciful school of salmon helped me, I had no choice but to escape or drown.  I pushed out, and surfaced. 

Daryl laughed and said “Not so easy, is it?  Lemme show you.”  He proceeded to enjoy the same experience.  After surfacing with his coy smile, we all remained undeterred.  Daryl outlined the new game plan: “Ok guys, I guess we’ll just have to not flip upside down.  If you do, DO NOT let go of your paddle or kayak, or else they could disappear downstream.”  We all nodded agreement and began paddling away.

It was a cool but sunny fall day, and the river had a gentle current.  For the first kilometer, we savoured the moment, laughing and splashing water at each other with the paddles.  Eventually, we noticed the current starting to speed up, and heard the distant sound of crashing water.  Looking ahead, the horizon suddenly seemed to end.  Our collective hearts fluttered.

We pulled to the side, and walked through the woods in order to get a look at our first waterfall.  The water thundered over a 10-foot drop, with sharp rocks jutting from the surface around the base and downstream.  Did I think this was insane and should call it off?  Damned right.  Did I do that?  Absolutely not.

After carefully debating the merits of various approach routes, we got back into our kayaks.  “Remember,” I reminded “DO NOT let go of your kayak or paddle if you flip, just swim with them to the nearest shore.”

Naturally, Daryl went first.  I couldn’t see what happened so I took a deep breath, and went next.  The water got faster and faster approaching the edge, the roar louder and louder.  I realized that it was now too late, I was trapped in the current and even if I wanted to quit there was no turning around. 

The kayak tipped downward over the edge, and I saw the foaming and broiled water beneath me.  In a total blur of action, I was underwater, surfaced, and immediately started to roll violently over to my right side.  I slapped the paddle onto the water and righted myself, then navigated through the chop to calmer waters.  I saw that Daryl had also survived and seconds later, Zol came through successfully and started fist-pumping and hollering, “We did it!” 

Nick came last.  His kayak crashed over the edge into the base and vanished.  We looked for him to surface but instead saw the underside of the kayak floating downstream.  Terrified, we scanned the river and were relieved to finally see Nick’s head surface.  He swam with flailing strokes to a rock in the middle of the tumultuous river and wrapped his arms and legs around it, clinging to his only lifeline. 

“Daryl!  Daryl!...Save me.”  Nick had lost his kayak, his paddle, and even his shoes.  Panicked and completely shaken, he hung onto the rock, praying that Moses would appear and banish the churning waters around him. 

I paddled near and yelled, “There’s no other choice, you’ve gotta swim for the shore.” 

After some time, his fate dawning on him, he swam, not majestically, but eventually to the shore.  Luckily his kayak had lodged in a bend in the river downstream and so we brought it to him and began paddling away together, Nick doing so by hand.

We came across another five or six waterfalls that day.  Daryl, Zol and I felt bolstered by our successes, and continued to dare them.  We each had to evacuate our craft at some point, but somehow managed to swim with the water-filled kayak in one hand, and the paddle in the other to the nearest shore.  No one wanted to suffer Nick’s fate.

At each rapid, Nick paddled towards the shore and with his dejected head downwards, he picked up the kayak and portaged, barefoot, several hundred meters through the dense woods.  After reaching a safer spot on the other side, he would begin to paddle again by hand, completing over 4 kilometers that way. 

The guide met us at the take-out spot just before night finally settled.  “Everything go ok?” he asked. 

We all smiled, “Everything worked out just fine”, I said.

Our group, now older and wiser, continues to laugh about our adventures.  When one of us grumbles about some difficulty in our life, we encourage each other to not take things too seriously.  That we’ll find a way and that things could be worse.  We’ll convey all this with one simple saying, “Let’s see you do it barefoot!”

Tom Szakacs is a practicing Infectious Diseases physician.  The habit of observing small details in his day-to-day work to solve a medical problem also lends itself well to writing.   He enjoys journaling (ok, let’s call it personal venting), and loves to find symbolism and interesting themes in the world.  Always on the lookout for a neat turn of phrase when reading, he continues the hunt to create them himself. 

 Tom has always enjoyed learning something new, whether it be another sport, photography, poetry or anything handyman-related.  When not spending time with his family, he can usually be found around the house doing home renovations or finding something that needs fixing.  He likes gardening, especially the care of shrubs and trees.  Road cycling and exploring the world through travel are favourite pastimes. 

 See upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and four-day retreats here. 

Read more short stories, essays, and reviews by your fellow writers here (and scroll down).

 

 

Seven great gifts to put on your wish list or to get for a writer you love

Seven great gifts for the writer in your life

Can you get a fancy gift certificate for any of these? You bet!

1) A weekend writing retreat at Elm Hurst Inn & Spa. Treat your loved one (or yourself) to a weekend of creativity, togetherness, and growth as a writer. This is a new conveniently situated location. Friday, April 25 – Monday, April 28, 2025. Details here.

Or join us for a weekend retreat at Arowhon Pines Resort,  a perfect little island of luxury in the midst of Algonquin Park wilderness. This is a magical weekend, at a magical location, with the finest of dining. Friday, June 13 – Monday, June 16, 2025. Details here. 

2) A manuscript critique: You or your spouse has spent a couple years writing a manuscript, and now she’s pretty sure it still needs work, but doesn’t know how to proceed. Time to give it over to a professional for a critique. Brian will explain what’s working, what’s not, and how to fix it. Since most of Brian's time is taken up with weekly classes, Saturday or Sunday workshops, and weekend retreats, his availability for  manuscript critiques gets filled in fast. See details of manuscript critiques and consults here. 

3) For a smaller investment, get a gift certificate for a short consult. Maybe the love of your life has a picture book manuscript, a short story, or an opening chapter that needs professional critiquing. Or maybe they're working on a query letter – odds are they'd love to have a professional rewrite that query and make it irresistible. Or maybe they’d just like to have a chat about their career. These are all things that can be done in about an hour and are ideal candidates for a consult. A consult is just $75/hour (plus hst). To arrange a consult, email brianhenry@sympatico.ca

4) The best stocking-stuffer is a gift certificate for a Saturday {or Sunday} workshop. See the full schedule of what’s coming here or just give a certificate for your special someone to hang on to until that special workshop they’re looking for comes around.

5) Or The Canadian Writers' Contest Calendar. This is a book giving the details for all the annual writing contests in Canada, listed by deadline date. The 2024 edition will be available soon, and we're accepting orders now. See details here. 

6) For a really special present, get a gift certificate for a weekly course. See details of classes starting in January here.

7) Or you might just give one of these presents to yourself. It’s a good time of year to consider what you want. Have you been thinking about writing? Well, it’s time to start! So give yourself that most important gift – which happens to be entirely free – space and time to get your creative self in gear.

Check out 77 more gifts for writers here. 

Plus, don't forget, try to shop local. Buy your books straight from the publisher or from a book store. 

See Brian Henry’s upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and weekend retreats here.

You're invited to a Writing Retreat in Algonquin Park at Arowhon Pines Resort

Algonquin Park Writing Retreat

Friday, June 13 – Monday, June 16, 2025
Arowhon Pines Resort
Arowhon Pines Road
Little Joe Lake, Algonquin Park
Ontario, Canada

Note: We also have a retreat coming up in April at Elm Hurst Inn (see here).

Give yourself a long weekend of writing time – a weekend of instruction, inspiration and creativity. Award yourself with time away from distractions, with no dishes to do and wonderful food at every meal, as you sit with your feet up and write in the most beautiful wilderness setting in Ontario. This is where the Group of Seven got its inspiration (Tom Thompson is buried just a couple of lakes over); it’s a wonderful place for you to find your inspiration, too.

The retreat will feature both instruction and guided writing exercises, plus one-on-one critiquing and coaching from Brian.  You’ll also have lots of time to relax, rejuvenate, and reconnect with your creativity.

All writing levels welcome. Whether you are just beginning or have a novel in progress, please join us. 

This year, the retreat will be limited to ten or eleven participants. This will mean plenty of one-on-one time with the instructor.

The setting: Arowhon Pines is a peaceful, quiet resort nestled in the woods on Little Joe Lake inside Algonquin Park. There are no motorboats on the lake, except for the resort’s own pontoon boat which takes guests on occasional wildlife tours.

The resort is without TV and is far from the roar of traffic. The cry of a loon is the loudest noise you’re likely to hear all day.

Rates include charming accommodation (rooms have a mix of queen beds for one person or couples or twin beds for two people rooming together, and a private bathroom of course, and each cabin has a lounge with fireplace to share with your fellow writers). 

Three all-you-can-eat gourmet meals per day are provided, featuring an abundance of fresh food prepared by master chefs and an inspired kitchen staff. (Bring your own wine or beer!)

All activities included. When you’re not writing or for spouses who accompany you, there is plenty to do: canoe or kayak a series of lakes or hike trails to see wildlife (moose, loons, beaver, turtles, fox, deer), swim in the lake, sail, stand up paddleboard, play tennis or pickleball, enjoy a sauna. and simply relax.

For indoor activities there is a games room with table tennis, shuffleboard, books, and board games. Your stay also includes access to all Algonquin Park programs and activities including a car pass for you to fully enjoy the park.

Check-in isn’t until 3 p.m., but guests can arrive in the morning to fully take advantage of the facilities (though the meals included in your package don’t begin until after check-in time, so lunch on Friday is extra if you arrive early). Each guest will have a day pass for Algonquin Park.

The formal retreat will begin late Friday afternoon. On Monday, we'll have our last formal get-together at 11 a.m., ending at 12 noon. Check out time is at 1 p.m.  Most guests have lunch while the bellhops load the car. But once you’ve had lunch, don’t feel you have to rush off!

Participants are welcome to bring spouses, partners or friends, as there will be plenty to do while you’re writing – canoeing, kayaking or sailing, swimming if warm enough, tennis, pickleball, reading and just plain resting and unwinding, enjoying the wilderness.

Read about a stay at Arowhon Pines here, and scroll down for more pieces about or inspired by retreats at Arowhon.

Instructor Brian Henry has been a book editor and creative writing instructor for more than 25 years. He publishes Quick Brown Fox, Canada’s most popular blog for writers, taught creative writing at Ryerson University (now Toronto Metropolitan University),  and has led workshops everywhere from Boston to Buffalo and from Sarnia to Saint John.

But his proudest boast is that he has helped many of his students get their first book published and launch their careers as authors.

For more pieces about, or inspired by,  Brian’s writing retreats, weekly courses and Saturday workshops, see here (and scroll down).

Seminar fee: For the full 4-day, 3-night retreat: $243.36 plus HST

Accommodation fee (including accommodation and food, plus use of all the resort’s facilities):
$456 per night single occupancy, $364 per person per night double occupancy ($728 per couple) plus 15% service charge (in lieu of tipping), then plus 13% HST. 

Book early – space is strictly limited! Full receipts issued.

For more information or to register, email: brianhenry@sympatico.ca

If you have questions or need more information about the accommodations,
phone the resort: 1-866-633-5661

Who can attend the retreat?

Everyone interested in developing their writing skills is welcome to attend, whether you're aspiring writer or an accomplished author or simply enjoy writing as a hobby. There is no requirement for you to have been previously published or even to have an intention to publish.

I'm a poet / playwright / other writer. Is this retreat for me?

The retreat is open to anyone who enjoys writing. Instruction will focus on narrative writing; i.e., stories, whether fiction or memoir. But if you’re an essayist or poet or whatever, you’re entirely welcome.  

Should I bring my work in progress?

Yes! If you have an on-going writing project, bring it with you. Bring more than you expect to get to; you'll have lots of time for writing. Besides, you may want to switch projects or share a project that’s just started or one that’s all done, except for reading it to a small, appreciative audience. If you’re not currently working on anything, don’t worry, we’ll get you writing.

Should I bring my laptop?

Yes, if you prefer to work on your laptop. If you prefer to work on paper bring that. Or go crazy and bring both your laptop and your notebook. Bring everything you might want.

Can you cater to specific dietary requirements?

Yes, just let the staff at Arowhon Pines know beforehand about your needs.

I want to stay longer or arrive early. Is that possible?

Yes, absolutely. There is plenty to see and do in the park, and Arowhon Pines is a lovely base from which to explore. Arowhon will keep the same rate throughout your stay.

Is there cell phone reception and WIFI

Arowhon Pines is an island of luxury, but in the midst of wilderness, so spotty cell phone at best and no WIFI, though there are landlines and there’s access to the resort’s Internet connection. (Contact the resort for details.) But be sure to have your writing projects on your laptop or on paper when you come, not stored in the Cloud.

How about alcohol?

Arowhon does not serve alcohol, but guests are welcome to bring their own wine, beer or whatever to have with meals or back at your cabin or wherever. (Though do note that Hemingway’s advice to write drunk, mostly produces drivel.)

Can I bring my spouse?

Certainly. Just let them know you’ll be spending most of your time writing, (though you will have some free time every day), and make sure they enjoy superb food, beautiful wilderness, and relaxing on the deck or the dock or out on a canoe as they glide past a moose munching on water lilies.

For more information about the resort, visit their website here.

For more information or to register, email: brianhenry@sympatico.ca 

To book your accommodation at Arowhon Pines, phone toll free: 1-866-633-5661
And be sure to tell them you're with the writing retreat!

Or you can book on-line here. ~ But be sure to also phone and tell them you're with Brian’s writing retreat!

See all of Brian’s upcoming weekly writing classes, one-day workshops, and weekend retreats here.