Another author took a few of us sightseeing before the retreat officially started, to the pipeline and a large animal research station.

Fairbanks, while remote, is a beautiful area. We hit at just the right time to view both the birches in their fiery splendor and the Aurora Borealis.

The latter took several nights to catch, thanks to cloud cover. Most of us had neither the camera equipment nor the appropriate winter clothing for viewing, but we persevered and were rewarded for our patience.

Alex was kind enough to capture the lights for us and gave his permission for us to use the pictures as we saw fit.

It was one of the most eerily beautiful sights I've ever witnessed.

They grow things big in Alaska. The food, the people, the mountains, but there's nothing bigger than the Alaska sky. Once the cloud cover dissipated, we were mesmerized by the stars' clarity. The Milky Way stretched from horizon to horizon, bisecting the sky behind the ghostly waves of the northern lights.

E. G. Bateman, an Urban Fantasy writer, flew from the UK for the retreat. She had never seen the Milky Way before. When I heard that, I texted Alex and asked him if he'd be willing to take the two of us out in the last few hours before Elaine's flight back home. Alex kindly obliged. The three of us stood under the stars for what felt like a small eternity, reveling in the view. Next to seeing the lights in all their haunting glory, that time with Alex and Elaine was the highlight of my trip.

Before I took a shuttle to the Fairbanks airport, I knew I would return. A week is not enough time to fully explore any area, let alone one as sprawling and interesting as Fairbanks.

I thought about that on the various legs of my journey home, from Fairbanks to Anchorage and a long layover, then to Seattle and, finally, back to Atlanta.

Mostly, I stared out the window at the view below as we passed over landscapes I had never seen before. The view from thirty-thousand feet, seated near the wing of a 787 MAX-8 (and, later, a brand new 787 MAX-9), entranced me. Most of the other passengers seemed to take the engineering and science behind flight for granted, but this is the reason I am a planespotter: human ingenuity is nearly as marvelous as anything nature hath wrought.

It took a couple of weeks to regain the sleep I lost during the retreat and the long, long hours of travel.

In the time since returning home, I've reread my notes, followed up with other authors, and pondered the best direction forward. I've wanted to focus solely on non-romantic Science Fiction and Fantasy for years; yet I had never fully committed to it. It's easy to become distracted when you're juggling multiple pen names.

This year, though...this is the time for me to focus, to commit, to redirect my energy toward the stories that have been brewing in my mind for at least half a decade.

My first step along that path was to buckle down on a couple of the stories I showed Alex during a rare breather.

My second step was to purchase a cover for a short story collection. I've learned, over the past nine years of writing fiction, that putting money where my dreams are helps them become reality. After all, it's one thing to say that you're going to do something; it's another thing to finance it.

We hadn't been back to our respective homes long when the other attendees began making noises about a reunion. Next year may see us in Alaska again, renewing our friendships, discussing the progress we've made, and viewing more of the beauty Fairbanks offers so freely.

I'm looking forward to seeing my author friends again, and of flying high above the mountains, my gaze glued to the patchwork earth passing by below.