I've been away this weekend and it's been lovely. A writing retreat by the beach. I've written 2/3 of a 0 draft of a new picture book (a 0 draft isn't even good enough to be called a first draft but it's a start) and a preliminary edit of a non-fiction title. There was workshopping and mandatory silent times.
A tree stump does a fried egg impression.
It may just be true there was some chatting and some eating on the weekend too and perhaps a few late-ish nights. But that's all part of it, isn't it?