Fall is here, bringing one of my favorite events of the year. No, not that annual consumerist horror show of junky landfill decorations and toxic sweets called Halloween, but a women-writers weekend, a tradition now in its fourth year.

The act of writing is generally a solitary endeavor, but being a writer is very much about finding community. My first writers community was formed through the Independent. Though I’d been writing for decades, I did it in isolation, and my work suffered for it. I thought I could be a lone wolf. But wolves thrive best in packs, and so do writers.

In 2021, one of my Independent colleagues suggested a DIY writers retreat. It wouldn’t be structured or involve extracurricular activities. We’d write on our own by day and share a meal and socialize in the evening. It wasn’t hard to find four others to join us; all of us were involved with the Independent as reviewers, columnists, editors, or Washington Writers Conference chairs. We rented three nights at an Airbnb in Pennsylvania farm country for a long weekend of writing.

We change locations (this year, we stayed at a horse farm in Dickerson, MD), but our unstructured structure remains the same. During the day, a monastic hush falls over the house as each of us engages with the written word — some in longhand, most on our laptops, the ambidextrous among us switching between the two. Though there’s minor chitchat throughout the afternoon, and some may decide to take a brief excursion to explore the surrounding area, we are respectful of our mission. While a few of us might be in a generative frenzy, others are researching, outlining, editing, querying, submitting, or tending to the myriad tasks of the striving writer.

Of course, it’s okay to simply stare out the window, untangling thoughts, searching for the right word, contemplating the next plot twist, or just letting the mind wander. Our rural setting is perfect for a ruminative meander, and nature is always its own inspiration.

At night, the house fills with talk and laughter as we gather around the dinner table. Meal preparation and clean-up is shared equally, the dinners meatless for the two vegetarians among us (except that shrimp is apparently okay, as one of them claims crustaceans have no central nervous system and therefore don’t suffer like other animals). Our one formal ritual is to share our goals for the weekend on the first night, which allows us to catch up on each other’s manuscripts, projects, and literary agendas.

We share writerly advice, submission opportunities, and industry gossip. We confide our professional frustrations, the defeats and rejections, while cheering each other on and celebrating good news (look for Caroline Bock’s latest novel, The Other Beautiful People, in summer 2026!). We also discuss personal struggles and challenges, cracking ourselves open and letting it all ooze out. This self-interrogation and vulnerability, too, is good for our writing, as many of the issues bedeviling our lives are integral themes of our work. Into the late hours of the night, we argue, we confess, we empathize, we validate.

Inevitably, the writing weekend (I refuse to call it a retreat because we’re there to progress) passes too quickly. This year, I fully drafted and began revisions on a short story and started this column. While writing fresh material is an important part of the weekend for me, I’ve come to realize it’s not the only objective. Just as crucial is the inspiration I take from the company and conversation of writers who have the same values and objectives as I do.

Thank you for being part of my wolf pack, ladies. Can’t wait for next fall!

Alice Stephens is the author of the novel Famous Adopted People.