Scott Oldford Site

Tag: writing residency

  • 5 Lessons I Learned at My First Writing Residency

    5 Lessons I Learned at My First Writing Residency

    In January, I packed my car and drove 12 hours alone from Florida to North Carolina. This was not a typical road trip, but I had plenty of soul-searching planned: I was headed to the Penland School of Crafts, a bustling art school nestled in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

    As I embarked on my first writing residency, I knew I’d be joined by artists from all over the country seeking a focused period of independent work. I was ready — or so I thought.

    I had packed and repacked the car. I had checked out helpful library books for research. I had acquired plenty of snacks. I had obtained not one, but two new notebooks waiting to be filled with the fresh inspiration that was sure to come.

    What I didn’t expect was to feel like a fish out of water, as the only writer attending during my two-week session. Being a lone ranger wasn’t a big deal. But I had no other writers to turn to for perspective, or for a boost of encouragement. It was up to me to forge my own writing path.

    I made the most of my time at Penland and returned feeling accomplished. But I also learned important lessons about planning for writing productivity while you’re away from home.

    1. The first few days will probably be a wash

    Anyone who’s sat down at their desk and waited (and waited…and waited) for words to come knows the anxiety of not being productive enough during a writing session. This gave me some anxiety as I embarked upon my first residency.

    A friend advised me to give myself a few days to settle in, both to my surroundings and my temporary writing routine. Of course, someone doing a shorter retreat or residency may not have the luxury of spending a half day importing their chapters to Scrivener, or avoiding writing by reading a book on Cold War-era bunkers, as I did. But I was grateful to have the first few days of my stay to putter around and get comfortable, not only with my space but with myself, and no other tasks to complete but writing.

    Tip: Plan a few low-energy tasks to get you started in the first few hours or days of your residency. A valuable way to start your stay may be to read over the work you’ve already done, to remind you why you’re here — and what needs work.

    2. It’s good to have goals

    Here’s where my strategy of “ease into the residency!” has its drawbacks.

    Working in a residency for primarily visual artists meant it was easy to say, “Hey, what did you make today?” to a fellow resident, and be shown beautiful works-in-progress at a moment’s notice.

    When they turned that question back to me, asking, “What did you write today?” I would chuckle half-heartedly and give them a big toothy grin. Then I would change the subject.

    I didn’t always have something to show for my day of work.

    In my first week of my residency, my major accomplishment was figuring out the emotional catalyst for my entire story, and summarizing it in a paragraph. It was a huge accomplishment for me, but on paper, it didn’t look so massive.

    My colleagues were still excited for my progress. But because I didn’t set any goals before I started my work, I couldn’t truly gauge my progress during this valuable time.

    Tip: Make a work plan, however minimal. Whether it’s a set of chapters, a character development arc, or research for technical aspects of worldbuilding, you’ll want to be able to look back on your time and say, “Yes, I did (at least part of) what I set out to do.”

    3. Distractions are everywhere

    It’s natural for others to be curious about your work at a residency, and it’s natural to be curious about theirs.

    But it’s easy to let those side conversations about your work, your life back home, your pets, and that one city you visited once derail your productivity.

    An artist at my residency referred to procrastinating as “chasing squirrels.” Everyone did it. Some of us more than others. If you let distractions like conversations, social media, and fiddling with the coffee pot take over, and you’ll wonder where your day — or entire residency — has gone.

    Tip: Set a writing schedule, even if it’s as simple as working two hours in the morning and two hours in the afternoon. That way, you can protect those hours — and let distractions run rampant outside those limits without feeling bad.

    4. You will hit a wall

    Right when you think you’ve hit your stride and it’s going to be nothing but multi-thousand-word writing sessions from there, you’ll hit the wall. Stuck. Burned out.

    It happened to me: I started my second week of residency with a super-productive day where I wrote several pivotal scenes in my work in progress. I felt like I was on top of the world.

    Until the next morning, when I sat back down at my desk and…nothing.

    The cure? A 90-minute hike on a cold, but sunny day fixed me right up. I knew I needed to clear my head, and when a fellow resident volunteered to keep me company along the path, I happily took her offer. Leaning into this opportunity for distraction helped me reset my brain and sit down at my laptop with clarity and confidence the next day.

    Tip: Accept that even in a special environment, some days will be more productive than others. Embrace the ebb and flow of your residency and listen to your body, mind and surroundings along the way.

    5. Make a work plan before you depart

    Your residency might feel like a rush of creativity and uninterrupted writing. But you can’t take it with you — at least, not in the same form.

    When I returned from my residency, I chatted with my mother on the phone, who asked if I had a productive trip. Then she said, “Now you’ll have to keep up the momentum.”

    Again with the half-hearted chuckling and toothy grin she couldn’t see through the phone.

    I didn’t have a plan. In fact, in the month after my return home, I wrote zero additional words. I did zero additional plotting. I felt inert, sluggish back in my surroundings, with a day job to attend to and errands to run.

    The momentum of a residency is hard to replicate for writers who don’t typically get time and space to write.

    Tip: Before you depart, make a plan for how you’ll continue writing when you return home. Sure, maybe life will require you to tone it down from 2,000 words each day to 500 three days a week. But setting expectations for yourself will help you feel motivated to follow up on your residency-facilitated burst of creativity.

    My lessons might seem obvious to someone who has taken writing trips before. But for a newcomer who loves planning and reviewing agendas, I felt overwhelmed with lightbulb moments. Of course it takes planning and preparation to make the most of your time — just like writing at home.

    Now, it’s a matter of applying those lessons as I daydream about my next residency.

    This post contains affiliate links. That means if you purchase through our links, you’re supporting The Write Life — and we thank you for that!

  • 5 Tips for Applying to Writing Fellowships and Residencies

    5 Tips for Applying to Writing Fellowships and Residencies

    If you’ve ever applied for a writing residency, retreat or fellowship, it sometimes feels intimidating to know your application is lumped into a pile with highly accomplished and well-established writers.

    As a young writer, the application alone was a big enough barrier to scare me away from life-changing opportunities and thinking ahead in my writing career. For many writers like myself, it’s easy to fall into a hole of self-pity and invalidate our own personal achievements.

    Luckily, the application process doesn’t have to be this way.

    To learn some strategies about applying to residencies and fellowships, I reached out to a handful of writers who have been accepted to and completed prestigious opportunities. Here are their tips.

    1. Communicate clearly in your application

    Mailee Hung, a 2017 Bitch Media Writing Fellow, stresses the importance of effective communication in your letter of intent.

    Your statement should “clearly outline what your project is, how you’re going to do it, [and] why that particular residency/fellowship is the best venue to do it in,” she says. “You need to state your claims early, if only to show that you’ve thought about it seriously and you know how to build an argument.”

    Overall, you need to be ready to sell your best self.

    Articulate why your work is particularly unique and special. Poet and former Artist-In-Residence at the Everglades National Park Miriam Sagan even recommends addressing some weaknesses.

    “I heard through the grapevine I was once rejected for a residency because I asked for ‘too short” of a stay,” she explains. “From then on, I addressed my need for short stays directly.”

    2. Understand your needs

    Poet and teacher Laura Wetherington, who participated in residencies at the Vermont Studio Center and the Centre d’Art Marnay Art Centre, recommends writers begin their program search by identifying their own artistic needs because, as you’d expect, programs can be very different from each other.

    “Are you looking for a place to collaborate with other artists and feed off the collective energy, or are you looking for a solitary, quiet situation?” She says. “Do you need the internet, access to the post office or to bring a bunch of books with you?“

    Knowing the answers to these questions will strengthen your statement of intent, because it provides you with a stronger connection to the program and its accommodations.

    3. Go abroad

    Sagan has completed more than a dozen residencies and fellowships, both domestic and abroad.

    She says international residences are far less competitive compared to those within the United States.

    “[International programs] cost about the price of a Motel 6 daily or less and tend to be government subsidized,” Sagan explains. “If you need funding, look at short-term Fulbrights for artists and other exchange programs. Look at your city’s Sister Cities too.”

    For potential funding opportunities as a Philadelphia-based writer, I can look into my city’s affiliate Sister Cities, which include Tel Aviv, Israel; Florence, Italy; and Aix-en-Provence, France.

    4. Fundraise as needed

    “The slightly funded residencies are much more competitive,” Sagan explains. “Go for unfunded ones as well.”

    Sagan recommends pursuing crowdfunding if you’re pursuing an unpaid residency and all other funding opportunities fail. “A GoFundMe campaign can get you anywhere,” she says.

    She also adds to keep your expenses as low as possible. Minimize your luxuries by cooking on a budget rather than eating out, for instance.

    Also, remember to maximize your time and use it to the fullest if offered the opportunity. Take advantage of the financial investment (especially if the program isn’t funded) you’re making.

    After all, it’s unlikely that you’ll fit that much writing into your regular schedule without a residency or fellowship.

    Think about what you can do with sustained time that you can’t do on your regular writing schedule, and prioritize that,” explains Gemma Cooper-Novack, a writer with a CV of over six residencies including the Betsy Hotel Writer’s’ Room in Miami, Florida.

    5. Just do it

    But most of all? “Don’t get discouraged!” Mailee adds.

    Most writers will be too intimidated to even consider applying. Slap on some imposter’s syndrome and the application process becomes a nightmare. However, it’s important to just do the thing and at the very least submit an application.

    The worst that could happen is, well, you won’t get an offer.

    “Some of my most devastating rejections have led me to make the best decisions of my life,” she elaborates. Apply to anything you’re excited about, and know the value of your own work. There are a lot of reasons for rejection beyond “you just weren’t good enough.”

    Plus, applying to programs gets easier over time.

    “If it’s at all possible, I strongly advise taking the first residency you’re accepted to, even if you have to put down some money, get into one however possible,” stresses Cooper-Novak. “I do think that after I got my first residency [at Can Serrat in El Bruc, Catalonia, Spain)], other residencies started to look at me more closely.”

    As you can tell from these writers’ advice, applying to a residency and/or fellowship doesn’t have to mean beating imposter syndrome. The process may still be a little intimidating, but not so much that it prevents you from actually submitting your application.

    Take it from the experts: apply and apply again until you’re accepted.

     

  • How a Writing Residency Helped This Woman Return to Her Craft

    How a Writing Residency Helped This Woman Return to Her Craft

    I arrived at Rivendell Writers’ Colony for the first time one November weekend just as the sun was setting.

    Signs along the long, winding gravel drive warned of a seven mile-per-hour speed limit. Apparently, I was on Rivendell time now. From the final bend in the driveway, a 7,000-square-foot, three-story sandstone manor appeared. Set on the edge of a cliff, views of southeast Tennessee’s Cumberland Plateau extended in almost every direction.

    I’d never heard of a writer’s residency before 2014.

    The literary world was foreign to me at that time, abandoned as soon as I’d graduated college. I was working in healthcare marketing, promoting outpatient surgical solutions for incontinence. Based in Nashville, I traveled the country meeting with urologists, OBGYNs and colorectal surgeons touting the benefits of an implant (“the size of a Peppermint Patty!”) proven to eliminate certain kinds of incontinence. I was 28 and at a professional crossroads.

    Returning to the writing life

    In the years I worked in marketing and public relations, I wrote a lot. Press releases, social media posts, email campaigns and oh my, the project status updates. But an essay? A poem? Absolutely not.

    The only thing creative about my writing was trying to make something I’d said a thousand times before sound like something I was saying for the first time.

    Motivated to expand my creative writing horizons, I reconnected with my high school creative writing teacher the summer of my 29th birthday. I told him I would sign up for the poetry workshop he was leading the following weekend. I didn’t end up writing anything worth remembering, but I wrote. I didn’t die. I didn’t even leave at the break.

    St. Louis, Chicago, all of Florida — I was racking up miles and spreading the incontinence solution gospel. I’d hammer out a blog post once a week on a blog I’d started that September, but that was about the extent of my writing. I knew how to write to sell, but could I move from incontinence into introspection? Bladder control into a body of work?

    When an email arrived later that summer from The Porch Writers’ Collective, the non-profit writing organization in Nashville that hosted the poetry workshop, I opened it, hopeful some new class or workshop would speak to me.

    They were holding a weekend writing retreat at Rivendell in November. Unfamiliar with writers’ residencies and curious to learn more, I checked out the website. Best I could tell it was a place where writers far beyond my skill level went to write in peace.

    It seemed at once both overly self-indulgent and like something I had to try. Nervous, but bolstered by my commitment to try something new, I signed up.

    Coming home to a place I’d never been

    I was easily the most novice writer in our group of ten. One attendee was an accomplished young adult fiction author working on her latest manuscript, another a prolific poet writing a memoir.

    I felt like I’d snuck in with my blog posts and journal entries.

    That first night, the then-managing editor of the Sewanee Review, Leigh Anne Couch, stopped in to read from her latest collection of poetry. A fire blazed and I sipped hot tea while marveling that an entire world I knew nothing about — Sewanee, residencies, literary quarterlies — existed just an hour and a half from my home in Nashville. I went to bed that night in the Flannery O’Connor room, two twin beds pressed against opposite walls (the way I think O’Connor would have liked it), intimidated but grateful.

    If I’d snuck in, I was going to enjoy it.

    In the morning I flipped through the Sewanee Review and read Wendell Berry for the first time. His words — and this place — felt familiar, like a home I was returning to after a long time away.

    I joined in the craft talks, even shared a short piece I’d never allow to see the light of day today. I walked around the expansive property enjoying the company of my fellow retreaters and the sound of my boots on dry leaves.

    Rivendell had a way of pulling you in, as if the house and grounds were rising up to meet you, were making space for you to join in its history and its magic.

    I certainly had nothing to compare it to but Rivendell did feel different. That intimidation of the first night was replaced with the feeling that not only was it okay for me to be here but that I was actually supposed to be here.

    Driving down the mountain the next day, headed towards home, I knew my incontinence marketing days were numbered.

    writing residencies

    Leaving the corporate world

    Over the next few months, I doubled down on the writing life.

    Nights in hotel rooms and layovers in airports were spent reading, writing and preparing my application for an MFA program at the University of the South in Sewanee. The company I worked for was sold and while my job wasn’t in jeopardy, I didn’t see myself as part of the new company’s future. During a work dinner in Florida I received an email that I’d been accepted to the MFA program. I stepped outside, called my best friend, then emailed Rivendell begging for a room.

    Just before classes started in June 2015, I quit my job. What would come next, I had no idea, but it was time to go.

    I stayed at Rivendell for eight weeks that summer. In the mornings I read by the pond while herons, patient and stoic, waited for breakfast to swim by. I wrote on the back porch at dusk and observed a mother skunk and her babies trot across the lawn. Deer grazed along the cliff’s edge and bullfrogs trumpeted their virility with deafening urgency. I breathed differently here. I heard differently here. I wrote differently here. I didn’t want it to end.

    As the eight weeks came to a close and with only a rough outline for beginning my new life writing, I hammered out a plan for me to also put my skills to use for Rivendell. I needed to pay my bills, but I also wanted to share the Rivendell experience with others. I’d experienced something life changing. How could I keep that to myself?

    In 10 months I had gone from unlikely retreat attendee, to student and writer-in-residence, to part-time something-or-other (we’ve never landed on a title).

    Today, now over two years since my first visit to Rivendell, I get to be part of a place that values potential as much as publication, that offers community but never forces it. A place that insists on honoring the vocational nature of the writing life.

    A place where people feel like they are returning home.

    Have you ever attended a writing residency? Share your experiences in the comments below.

  • All Aboard! 3 Writers on Amtrak’s Amazing Writing Residency

    All Aboard! 3 Writers on Amtrak’s Amazing Writing Residency

    What writer doesn’t dream of spending long days riding the rails while cranking out finely-crafted and inspired prose?

    Don’t forget about the chance to chat with mysterious and fascinating strangers in the dining car, and being rocked to sleep by the train’s gentle swaying through the night.

    The Amtrak Residency program, established in 2014, makes this dream come true — if you’re lucky.

    Differing from a traditional writing residency, this one takes place on trains crisscrossing the U.S. and Canada.

    The company recently released the names of its new crop of residents.

    What’s it like to participate in an Amtrak Residency program? We asked three Amtrak writers in residence about their trips.

    Jennifer Boylan’s productive journey

    Jennifer Boylan, author of bestselling memoir She’s Not There: a Life in Two Genders spent three weeks on her residency journey.

    She started in Maine, taking the Downeaster line to Boston, followed by the Lake Shore Limited to Chicago, the California Zephyr to San Francisco, and the Coast Starlight to Salinas, California.

    Once she arrived in Salinas, she spent a few days at a spa finishing her novel before hopping on the Coast Starlight back to Seattle, the Empire Builder to Chicago, the Lake Shore Limited and the Downeaster back to Maine.

    Boylan relished her time on the train. “It was a delight. The chambers are SMALL, but you do have a sense of elegance,” she said.

    She also enjoyed the dining options. “The food is surprisingly good, and you can also take your meals in your berth if you want, which I tended to do for lunches.” Boylan found peace and quiet, which gave her time to think and work.   

    The lack of internet access was also a great help. “I think trains are great places to work, and the sustained quiet time was magnificent. The very best thing was the fact that for long stretches of the country there is no internet, and thus no interruptions or distractions.”

    Her daily schedule involved work, relaxing, and dining.

    “I tended to get up early, have coffee in the observation car, work all morning in my berth, take lunch in the berth, spend the afternoon revising, and then chill in late afternoon, looking out the window or hanging in the dining car. “

    Boylan’s journey was productive: she was able to finish a rough draft of her novel and write two essays during her trip.

    But while fantastic scenery can aid the writing process, it can also become a distraction.

    “The hard thing about the long-distance trains is that you really do want to spend your time looking out the window in amazement,” she says. “Especially the Denver to San Francisco run — you go through parts of the country that you really can’t go to any other way —  really jaw-dropping scenery.”

    Doylan also recommends packing a healthy dose of patience. “I’d suggest not being in any particular hurry, either with your work, or with your desire to get anywhere,” she says. “The long distance trains, especially on the Empire Builder, tend to run late… but that’s all part of the journey.”

    Erika Krouse’s whistle-stop book tour

    Erika Krouse used her Amtrak residency to do more than write. She also used the trip to promote her novel, Contenders.

    “I decided to double-duty my residency,” she says of the choice to mix writing and promotion. “I took the California Zephyr from Denver to Emeryville, then took the Coast Starlight to Los Angeles. I did a few readings in LA and San Francisco, then rode back over the mountains to home.”

    As she worked on the train, she found that the project she originally planned to pursue during her residency wasn’t well-suited to the journey.

    “I had planned to do some revision, but soon discovered it was impossible,” she says. “Instead, I mostly took notes, maybe 50 pages of notes. Train travel is more suitable for gathering information about the world around you as it rushes past. At least, it was for me.”

    She also offered a few tips for aspiring train writers, including encouragement to leave devices behind.

    “Technology isn’t your friend—glare, noise, and the interesting scenery all suck your attention from the screen,” she says. “Go old school and use a notebook and a good pen. Turn off your phone and your camera—instead, rely on your words to evoke the setting. Talk to people and ask them nosy questions. Feel yourself relax, and notice what that does to free your mind. Take a favorite book. Bring wet wipes and warm socks. Try to record your changing surroundings, and the experience of being conscious in it. Hydrate.”

    Deanne Stillman’s research bonanza

    Deanne Stillman is planning to head out on her journey this fall, going east across the Great Plains on the California Zephyr and returning to the West Coast on the Empire Builder through Canada.

    While on the rails, she’ll work on her upcoming book, Blood Brothers: The Strange Friendship Between Sitting Bull and Buffalo Bill.

    The route she chose serves as crucial research for her book. “Place, especially the American West, is a main character in my work — and life — and it will be in this new book,” she said.

    She explained, “I’d like to see the frontier from the POV of the Iron Road, aka the railroad, as Sitting Bull saw it when he left the plains to join the Wild West show. And of course, the plains were where the buffalo roamed, and where William Cody established himself.”

    Seeing historically significant places firsthand will help Krouse envision the characters’ journeys and provide important background information for her writing.

    How you can write on the rails

    Convinced that writing on trains is for you? Keep an eye on Amtrak’s residency page for information on future application cycles.

    In the meantime, consider putting together your own DIY writing retreat — train style.

    Next time you have to travel, skip the airports and opt for a train ticket. Spend your travel time getting to your destination a bit more slowly, finding inspiration and adventure along the way.

    Or consider applying for one of the many other writing retreats available in non-train form.

    How would you spend your Amtrak Residency? If you’ve ever used a long train trip to work on a writing project, tell us about your experience!