I ran a workshop for 30 people once. It went well. Everybody said lovely things at the end and a few of them meant it.
Here’s what actually happened in that room: 6 people got real feedback and 24 people watched them get it.
That’s the day I stopped running big rooms.
The maths nobody wants to do
A Createcation™ is 4 days. Take out sleeping, eating, and the hours you spend actually writing, which is the entire point, and what’s left of my attention is finite. Divide it by 6 and every person in the room gets hours of me. Divide it by 20 and everybody gets a turn to ask one question in front of a group.
The second version is a conference. Conferences are lovely. Nobody finishes a book at one.
6 is the largest number where I can hold every single book in my head at the same time. I know what your chapter 3 problem is when you’re talking about chapter 9. I remember the thing you said on day one that you’ve already forgotten you said, which is usually the actual book. That stops being possible somewhere around 8 people, and I’d rather cap it low than pretend otherwise.
Nobody gets to hide at the back
Here’s the part people don’t expect. The cap isn’t only about my attention. It’s about what happens to yours.
In a room of 6, you cannot quietly opt out. There’s no back row. When it’s your turn to read something out, the other 5 are listening properly, because they know their turn is 20 minutes away and they want the same from you. That’s an uncomfortable kind of accountability and it works better than any productivity system I’ve ever seen.
It also means the feedback you get is from people who have been living inside your book for 4 days, not strangers reacting to a paragraph in isolation. By day 3 the other writers in the room know your book almost as well as you do. Some of the best structural fixes I’ve watched happen came from another writer at the table, not from me.
What it costs me to do it this way
I’ll be straight about this. Capping at 6 is a worse business decision than capping at 20 and it’s the one I keep making.
A bigger room is more revenue for the same 4 days, the same venue, the same flights. Every retreat operator knows this, which is why so many writing retreats quietly hold 15 to 25 people and call it intimate.
The reason I don’t is boring: I want the books to get finished. My whole reputation rests on people leaving with something real, and that stops being true the moment the room gets big enough for someone to disappear in it.
What this means if you’re applying
Applications close well before the retreat, and 6 seats fill in an order I don’t control. There’s no waitlist theatre and no fake countdown. There are 6 chairs, and when they’re gone the room is closed.
If you’ve been circling one of these for a while, that’s the only urgency worth paying attention to.
The rooms that are open are here.
6 writers. 4 days. Nobody at the back.
Your Next Fave Read
- Find Your Voice vs. Finish Your F*cking Book
- What Is a Createcation™?
- Writing Retreats for Authors: What to Look For
Ready to get your wisdom into the world, however you write it? Book a free validation call. I’ll help you figure out the right approach, coaching, ghostwriting, or collaboration, for your specific book and goals.
