Inspiration at the Lake: A Writer's Retreat

 

Finding Inspiration at the Lake: A Writer's Retreat

The sunrise over Long Lake paints my world in hues of amber and gold. As I look out from my cabin's private deck to the boat docks below, the gentle lapping of waves echoes a timeless rhythm. The endless line of trees beyond the glassy surface takes me to a place of pure tranquility.

For my family, this is a vacation from work. For me, a trip to Long Lake is a portal to relaxation and creativity.

 The Midwestern Tradition of "Going Up North"

When you live in the Midwest, particularly Wisconsin, vacations to places we call "up north" are a family staple. Living in the southern part of the state, finding somewhere that qualifies as "up north" isn't difficult.

My family has always blocked off at least one week each summer for such a vacation. It began with my grandparents taking my siblings and me to Wisconsin Dells. Those trips planted the seeds for my love of lakeside retreats, despite being the one family member who rarely participates in typical lakefront activities.

 Finding Peace by the Water

I've never been big on swimming or fishing. My legs aren't as strong as my arms, making swimming in currented water difficult. And while I enjoyed fishing as a child, I lost interest as I grew older.

Despite these personal preferences, I always look forward to family vacations on the lake. The water offers a tranquility I've rarely experienced elsewhere. From my cabin deck, I can hear gentle waves lapping against the dock below while enjoying a cold beverage. As the sun sets, casting a red-orange glow through the trees on the horizon, an overwhelming sense of peace washes over me.

 A Writer's Sanctuary

It may seem cliché for a writer to find inspiration at a lakeside cabin, but it works for me. Two years ago, I stayed in a rustic one-bedroom cabin with the most spacious deck of all those available. The worn wooden planks creaked with every step, adding to its charm.

The stillness of morning as I sat with a cup of coffee, enjoying the peaceful moments before a day of family activities, sparked something within me. As the sun rose above the tree line, my mind would race with creative energy, and the words would begin to flow.

 Unexpected Sources of Inspiration

Contrary to what you might expect, my most vivid story inspiration didn't come from the picturesque lake view, but from a macabre joke circulating around the resort. Locals joked about a dead body somewhere in the fish house below my usual cabin. "What if there really was a body down there?" I thought and thus was born perhaps the darkest narrative I'd ever conceived.

Being around new people in unfamiliar situations helps generate ideas. The less I think about everyday stresses, the easier it is to create. Though I haven't written this particular story yet, it remains on my project list, requiring me to step outside my comfort zone.

 Growth Through Reflection

Until writing this piece, I hadn't fully considered how past vacations could spark story ideas through simple "what if" scenarios. It's only in the last two years that I've seriously pursued writing during these trips.

One memory stands out: when my ex unexpectedly left our vacation with little explanation. Looking back, this disappointment could fuel many psychological thriller tropes. It's in these raw, emotional moments that I find the intricate dance of human relationships most fascinating—providing endless fuel for storytelling.

A Sanctuary of Inspiration

Long Lake has given me more than memories. It has deepened my understanding of myself, my family, and the human experience I seek to capture through writing. That lake, with its tranquil beauty and endless possibilities that accompany every sunrise, remains a sanctuary of inspiration in my memory.

Whether or not I return, the lessons learned, and stories conceived while gazing across Long Lake's shimmering expanse will always be with me, weaving into the fabric of my life and work.

Perhaps the "what if" questions I asked myself will find their way to others, leading them to seek their own experiences and find pieces of themselves reflected in gently rippling waters.

 

For the Love of the Game: How Baseball Saved My Life

Introduction

Baseball has been America’s pastime for as long as many of us can remember. Many consider it a rite of passage for a young man to go to a game with his dad, or even his grandfather, as was my case. The advancement of technology has allowed us to watch or listen to whatever team or game we choose from anywhere in the world, but nothing can replace the sights and sounds of the ballpark. From the crack of the bat to the ebbs and flows of crowd emotions, and even the cries of vendors offering hot dogs, peanuts, and the like, no at-home viewing or listening experience can compete with sitting in the ballpark with thousands of other people, some rooting for your team, some not, and taking in the sights and sounds of the game. I’ve been to countless games in my life to this point, but I had no idea when I went to my first game at the age of seven what kind of love I’d have for this great game, or that such a passion would effectively save my life.

When planning the structure and content of this story, I was unsure if I was going to mention anything about my personal journey. I had planned for this story to be the beginning of my, for lack of a better term, re-branding as a writer. I do, however, think it’s important for context to mention briefly that I was born with a mild case of cerebral palsy which limits me physically in some ways, but does not prevent me from walking. I mention this only because I played baseball only until the age of ten before my parents became afraid I wouldn’t be able to adjust to the increasing pace of the game. I was angry at the time, but I was also ten years old, unable to see the big picture. Now, almost thirty years later, I find myself thanking my parents for that decision. Realistically, physical disability or not, I didn’t have much of a future on the baseball field. First off, I’m not exactly fast, I will be the first to admit that. That rules out most of the outfield positions. I’d be the first to blame myself if a ball dropped in front of me or beside me that a normal outfielder would probably catch. Secondly, I’m 5 foot 8 on a good day, which rules out first base. I pitched for a while when I did play, but I am self-aware enough to know I don’t throw nearly hard enough now to have any shot, especially in today’s game. Last, but certainly not least, I’m left-handed, so that rules out the rest of the positions on the field. In a way, I believe my parents did me a favor all those years ago because it put me on a path to enjoying the game on a new level, one that would, as this story’s title implies, save my life, though I didn’t think of it that way at the time.

I don’t talk about it much, especially since suicide is something that often requires a “trigger warning” if you subscribe to such things, but I’ve thought about it many times. I always thought that because of the things I briefly mentioned in the beginning, I’d never amount to anything. I always thought I would be a burden to my family, a disappointment to my family name. I didn’t think there was a place for me in the future. That all changed in a seventh-grade math class that I wouldn’t remember to this day otherwise.

All About the Numbers

My playing career, if you want to call it that, was already over by this point, but I still loved the game enough to watch. My great-aunt, God rest her soul, introduced me to the Atlanta Braves in the summer of ’95, which also happened to be their first World Series victory since moving to Atlanta almost 40 years prior. I would watch games with her all summer long. The Braves were under the ownership of Ted Turner at this point, and as such had access to a national audience thanks to TBS, and I became a rabid fan. Though I found comfort in being able to enjoy the game from afar, part of me always longed for a way to be closer to it even though I could no longer play. That’s where the seventh-grade math class comes in. We had a whole unit on baseball stats and how they were calculated and compiled. This also happened to be the time in which I met the man who would be my best friend all the way through high school, but that’s another story. Between what I learned in school during that time and what I heard on the Braves broadcasts every Thursday night during the summer, I began to realize there are people who get paid to know these things. From that point on, I threw myself into the game from an analytical perspective, and my love only grew, as did my confidence in myself. Unfortunately, that confidence wouldn't last long, but that only gave the game I’ve grown to love so much a chance to save me again.

Missed Opportunities and a Renewed Passion

Hindsight being what it is, I can safely say I went about high school the wrong way. Instead of using my intelligence to do well in school and put myself on the right path, I was more concerned with my social standing, which caused me to suffer academically. Long story short, I got my diploma but did so in such a way that there were no colleges lining up to recruit me for my academic achievements. If I had the ability to write a letter to my high school self, I’d tell him to take journalism junior year as well as senior year. I’d tell him to take the radio and TV class that my school offered. Most of all, I’d tell him to quit worrying about what other people think and do what he needed to do to succeed. You know what they say, though, things happen for a reason, and I think my life is getting better just at the right time. I would be lying, however, if I said I didn’t have regrets.

My biggest regret knowing what I know now is not taking that radio and TV class at some point in high school. That regret started somewhere circa 2009 when I was working my everyday job as a call center phone customer service agent, and I had a customer tell me that I had a voice that should be on the radio. This would happen a few more times over the next couple of years and it would get me thinking to myself, “Maybe that’s what I was meant to do.” I didn’t act on it, however, because I was in the middle of yet another time in life in which I’d like to grab my past self by the collar and shake him vigorously and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. Once again, baseball was there, along with my family, to catch me when I fell flat on my face.

In the summer of 2017, I suffered the indignity of having to move into my parents’ basement after the living situation I’d been a part of for the better part of the last five years finally fell apart, not without some mistakes being made on my part of course. Though I did so with a healthy amount of trepidation, moving back in with my parents turned out to be the best thing I could have done, and it led to me rediscovering my love for baseball and radio broadcasting.

Though I cannot remember exactly when I started listening to the Braves broadcasts on the radio, I know for certain that I listened to almost every broadcast from 2020 until now. I began working from home in March of 2020 as the pandemic escalated. I had joined the company’s order processing department in 2017 and would assume a position as a shift lead the following spring, which meant I did not have to talk on the phone. This gave me the opportunity to listen to baseball games during my work shifts. In doing so, I was introduced to Ben Ingram and his smooth but passionate play by play style. In most cases, Ben called games alongside former big-league outfielder and longtime Braves broadcaster Joe Simpson, whom I knew from the TBS broadcasts I watched as a kid. Ben’s broadcasting style and mannerisms reminded me how much I loved the commentary part of the game, once again saving me from the grips of a depression that would have otherwise destroyed me.

Good News and the Miracle Braves

The summer of 2021, even though I didn’t know it to start with, would bring about two of the most fortuitous events in my life to that point. In July, we were supposed to return to on-site work, but as second shift employees, three of us, including myself, were informed that we’d be working from home permanently. As someone who is not able to drive, more for mental and emotional reasons than physical as it turns out, that was music to my ears. I hated relying on other people—and later our local cab company—to get to and from work. More importantly to me though, it meant I would be able to continue to listen to my baseball games during my work shifts since I’d be in my office alone and a sudden exclamation due to something that happened during a game would go largely unnoticed—I admit to being a bit of a rowdy fan, but if you’d heard my mother yell at the TV during Packers games, you’d see where it comes from—and since it happened often, that was important to me. At this time, however, with the Braves still hovering around the .500 mark, I wasn’t sure how much more cheering I would be doing that season. I could only hope that the good fortune that began with the news that I’d be working from home permanently would continue, though it wasn’t looking good for the good guys at this point.

Though it didn’t look good going into the month of August, the Braves did indeed overtake the Phillies to win their 4^th straight Eastern Division crown, beginning the most historic playoff run in my lifetime (unless you want to include the 1991 worst to first team, but I found out about that run much later in life). The next chapter of this story would begin in Milwaukee, reigniting a family rivalry that has spanned the entirety of my baseball life. Judging by how the regular season ended, Brewer fans were optimistic, and they had every right to be. In spite of the optimism that bordered on cockiness that permeated my house and the bars I went to, I held out hope for my guys as every fan should.

Personal Pride and Family Rivalry: The 2021 NLDS

After game one in Milwaukee, my optimism gave way to a sort of pessimistic realism that caused me to begin to think this would be the end of our brief run. Little did I know that, as we shifted back to the friendly confines of Truist Park in Atlanta, game one would be the only win the Brewers would get.

After a disappointing loss in game one, the Braves were able to take game 2 in Milwaukee, evening the series as the two teams boarded their birds bound for Atlanta. The Brewers looked poised to win game 3, but Brian Snitker had other plans, lifting pitcher Ian Anderson in favor of a pinch hitter. That pinch hitter was none other than perennial postseason hero Joc Pederson. Clad in his now-famous pearl necklace, Pederson proceeded to victimize Adrian Houser for the second time in the series, blasting a go-ahead 3-run homer into the Chop House seats in right field. The Braves would go on to win the game, setting up an elimination game for Milwaukee in game 4 the next night.

Game 4 was a back-and-forth affair between the two teams. The highlight that most will remember, me included, is when Craig Counsell opted to bring in his closer Josh Hader in the bottom of the        8^th inning for a left-on-left matchup with Freddie Freeman. Freeman proceeded to spoil that matchup, much to the chagrin of my family whom I could hear groaning from the living room as I sat in my office working and listening to the game on the radio. A home run to center field by Freeman would put the Braves up for good and spell the end of the Brewers season, giving me bragging rights, at least for the moment. Another rung on the ladder that was 2021 postseason was complete.

Home Cooking with a Side of Revenge: The 2021 NLCS

Unlike the Milwaukee series, the Braves began the series with the Dodgers at home. Even through the radio and TV feeds to which I was limited, I could feel destiny in the air as Hank Aaron’s spirit permeated the ballpark. Not being in the ballpark did not stop me from feeling a surge of confidence and excitement as the haunting and often controversial war chant for which Braves fans can thank Dieon Sanders echoed throughout the stadium. I knew the Dodgers, a team that won 106 games in the regular season, would be a tough opponent. Maybe it was Hank watching from above, but as Max Fried toed the rubber to begin Game 1, I had all the confidence in the world.

The 2021 NLCS was one many will remember. With the fewest regular season wins among the division winners, to say the Braves were underdogs in this series would be a massive understatement. Like most Braves fans, or so I would guess, I was looking for a measure of revenge going into this series. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t still have a bad taste in my mouth following the 2020 NLCS. As game one began, I could only hope for a turning of the tables this time around.

The first two games in Atlanta went back and forth the entire way. Looking back on it, I probably shouldn’t have been listening to the games during my work shifts because while I was able to concentrate well enough to complete my tasks in an efficient manner, it was difficult at times. This was especially true when Joc Pederson came to the plate to pinch hit in the bottom of the fourth inning in game two. With a man on first and his team trailing 2-0, Pedersen stepped confidently into the left-hand batter’s box, his now famous pearls dangling about his neck. Having just missed hitting a home run off Max Scherzer in his previous plate appearance, Pedersen was not about to let the Dodgers off the hook a second time as he proceeded to deposit a hanging Scherzer curveball into the upper deck of the Chop House, a similar location to the homer he hit against Milwaukee in a similar situation. I can’t speak for all Braves fans, but I was beginning to see a pattern. The Braves would go on to win Game 2 on the second walk-off hit in as many games in this series.

As the series moved to Los Angeles, the news was less positive for Braves fans. Though Freddie Freeman came out of the short slump he experienced in Atlanta, blasting two home runs in Los Angeles, the Braves would come away with just one win in LA. Despite this, they would only need one of the next two wins in their home park to send their team to their first World Series since the 1999 season, a feat they would indeed accomplish, with Will Smith striking out Cody Bellinger for the second out and AJ Pollack grounding out to shortstop to end the Dodgers’ season. A date was set between the Braves and Astros in Houston.

More Than Just a Trophy: The 2021 World Series

After splitting the first two games in Houston, one of which being an uncharacteristic bad start from Max Fried, the Braves would take 2 of the next three games in Atlanta, setting up a game 6 showdown back in Houston. After a disastrous game 2 start, Max Fried took the mound in game 6 ready to redeem himself. Despite getting stepped on covering first base and a few bounces not going his way, the then 27-year-old left-hander would do exactly that, pitching 6 shutout innings while giving up 4 hits, striking out 6 and not walking a soul.

Thanks to my favorite team, I will never forget November 2^nd of 2021 as long as I live. I was finishing up my work shift as the ninth inning of Game 6 progressed. The Braves were up 7-0, so a victory seemed assured. As a fan, I couldn’t help being nervous in spite of the score. This would be the first trophy hoisted in 26 years. I will be the first to admit that when Dansby Swanson threw the final ball to first base to secure it, I had to use every fiber of my being to not break down crying. My great-aunt passed away in 2016, not long after the Cubs ended their World Series drought. During game six in Houston, I thought of the man who sat at his father’s grave listening to the game as the Cubs clinched, and wished I could have sat with Aunt Mary on this day. I have no doubt that both she and Hank Aaron were celebrating right along with me. By some miracle, I was able to finish my work shift with my emotions somewhat intact, with Ben Ingram’s voice echoing in my head, “Is this happening? It is!” Once again, the game I so dearly loved, and the team I so fervently supported, renewed my lease on life.

A New Perspective and a Renewed Passion

I played the footage of that final out countless times in the next few days, and the emotions were the same every time. The way I saw it, if a team that had gone through that much adversity during the season could persevere and hoist a trophy, then I could do anything I wanted to do. It’s been a long road, and there have been some bumps in the road along the way, but thanks to my combined love of baseball and writing, I’ve been able to shift my focus and look at what is really important in life. The road will be long, but thanks to support from those around me and a newfound belief in myself, I firmly believe I will succeed and be able to make money doing what I love. Though it’s cliché at this point, I find a lot of truth in not having to work a day in your life if you’re doing what you love. I love to tell stories, and I love the idea of inspiring people. If I can make a living combining those things, whatever else comes will be a bonus.

No matter where you come from or what happens in life, I believe everyone has a calling, something they are meant to do. I was given the ability to put words together in a relatively coherent manner and a love of reading and sports. It’s only right that I share a bit of both with you folks today. Wherever this passion takes me, I will never forget where I came from or the journey I’ve taken to become the man I am today. That’s my advice to you. No matter where life takes you, don’t ever forget where you came from. Always be humble and thankful and follow your dreams. Most importantly of all, it’s never too late.

About Me

About Me: Greg Roberts

An Aspiring Writer Trying to Rise Above His Circumstances

 

"You need to be realistic." "What you’re doing is just a hobby." "You need to go to college and get a real job if you want to avoid collecting disability." 

These are all things that have gone through my head at one point or another. Did people actually say or think these things? I can’t be sure. More than likely not, but it was very hard as I came of age to not hear these things coming from somewhere, even if it was nowhere. I was diagnosed very early in life with cerebral palsy and told by the first doctor we went to that I would be confined to a wheelchair for my whole life. I would never walk, he said. He was not able to say anything more before my mother walked out of his office without so much as a “Thanks for nothing.” Thirty years later, I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked her. I’ve always been better with words in written form, so perhaps this is my way to do it. 

My Journey 

I’ve worked my entire life. Twenty years of being of working age, all of them spent working for the same company and not a single government check. I’ve been ever grateful to have gainful employment for that long, and I’m grateful to my job and my coworkers for the experiences I’ve had over the last two decades, but I always felt like there was something more out there for me. I always knew I wanted to write, and I loved the idea of getting paid for it, but somewhere along the way, I lost my way. I spent far too many years chasing acceptance from people who didn’t share my visions or my ambitions. After years of surrounding myself with the wrong people, I finally decided to put the focus where it needed to be, on my passion and love of writing.  

 

In the beginning, self-doubt plagued me. After some research and tireless reading, I discovered I was not alone. I discovered all writers go through doubts, regardless of their background or past experience. Ultimately, it was meeting one of my dearest writer friends, a woman who inspires me every day to pursue my love and talent for writing.   

My Passion 

I’ve always had a love of writing, literature, and sports, and when I mentioned it to anyone I knew, their first thought was college and journalism. I was not a fan of the idea of using what income I made as a journalist to pay back student loans for however many years it took, and I wasn’t keen on the whole college thing as a whole. I knew I wanted to write, and I knew there were an increasing number of ways to do so and make decent money online. For me, it wasn’t just about the money. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a factor, but the thing about writing, as with anything creative, you can’t go into it with the mindset of doing it for money. Desperate for answers, I started looking through YouTube for ideas. 

Finding My Path 

In my tireless YouTube searches, I looked for tips and tricks on how to start a blog, get posts in front of people, and navigate the slippery slope that is SEO. None of it was working. After countless days and nights searching for answers, I discovered that it wasn’t me that was the problem, and it wasn’t the things I was posting or the keywords I was using. As I often do, I was overthinking writing on the internet in this day and age. Not only was I overthinking what I was doing, but I was also in the wrong mindset with my content. 

 

After more tireless research and many failures, I realized that I was going about this whole online writing thing the wrong way. In a sense, I was doing exactly what I didn’t want other people to do. I was drawing attention to something that I didn’t want to define me as a writer or as a person. This proves that no success comes without failure. Mistakes are part of the process, and this was one for me. 

Why Follow Me? 

You’re probably reading this and wondering to yourself, "Ok, why should I follow this guy?" My short answer is that if you’re here in the first place, you share my love of writing and maybe we can help build each other up. I’m all about helping others succeed along with myself. I love to tell stories, and I love to read and hear other people’s stories. Some of my content will be fictional, some will be pulled right out of life. Either way, there will be a personal touch to every story and article I write—something I learned or wish I’d learned sooner, something I went through or am trying to avoid. Whatever the context, it is my sincere hope that you find something within my slowly growing catalog that helps, entertains, or inspires you.