I’m at Rockvale Writers’ Colony, a writing residency in College Grove, Tennessee. My room is simple and beautiful, a perfect environment for creative focus.
While I will no longer be here when you read this, and I will have written many sentences that certain Tennessee lobbyists would deem “obscene,” I’m here now, and I’m grateful for the time and space.
Of course, things never go exactly as planned.
My intended routine here was:
Wake for meditation and tea
Walk or do some exercise
Write till lunch (aim for 10 pages)
Walk
Write till dinner (aim for 10 pages, or revise 20)
Read
My actual routine on Day 1 was like this:
Wake at 2 a.m. in horrific stomach pain
Feeling a little better by 10 a.m.
Read a little and write very little
Day 2 went like this:
Wake and hand wash the clothes I wore yesterday
Meditate and drink tea
Slather on sunblock and walk for a mile before feeling the sunblock melt off and the need to hustle back
Talk with one of the other writers about ChatGPT/AI for an hour
Sit to write, but decide to take a bath instead
“Shit, I forgot to check my email.” (fast-forward an hour: “Shit, I shouldn’t have checked my email.)
Think about what to write
Eat lunch and read one of the many books on the shelves here
Write
Hear someone in the kitchen and go to talk about the strikes and how writers are underpaid, and this needs to stop
Think about what I need to revise
Revise
Realize I forgot something
Drive a half-hour into town, drive back (all the while thinking about what to write and revise)
Sleep
The days passed, and my intended schedule started to fall into place. As of now, I’ve written 10,000 words (we won’t talk about quality) and revised double that. I have a new novel draft, a full one, and a little headway on my collection of essays. (If you think having a new novel draft means I’ll have a new novel out soon, read this.)
I've shared this space with three lovely women who seem as dedicated as I am, who joined me for cookies and wine or general talks about our projects and places in the world, and who I often bump into while using the shared kitchen.
One of my favorite things to do is visit one of my new friends (see image above) who often gallops past me on the way to his trough.
I haven’t had to worry about the absence of sidewalks. Only the occasional truck kicks up dust on the two-lane road down the hill. From the front door, I can journey beyond a garden swelling with giant bumble bees, down a gravel hill, and toward a pasture full of cows who look at me, ears tagged, and quickly determine I am a mere interruption to their grazing.
One day, I bragged to my resident mates about seeing a roadrunner, only to find out it was a bald turkey.
Anyway, it’s Day 5, and I barely remember my old life. I am caught up in my stories, their narrative arcs, the characters, and the complexities of fictional lives. My mental space is reserved for the novel and the few essays I write in between.
Residencies are not for everyone. They are not spas. They are perhaps more like meditation retreats or diet camps. They’re extreme and intense. They’re ideal for those who can write (and want to write) with hyperfocus. If they’re designed right, a writer can’t avoid working because there’s not much else to do.
It will be a year before I attend another residency, provided I get in (they can be competitive), but here are my primary takeaways.
It takes a few days to get momentum in a new environment.
To adapt to a meditative silence for full days at a time is to confront thoughts you’ve been avoiding.
Know that projects will arise you forgot about, or you will have to take a few work calls.
Be realistic with goals, so you can dance past them and feel good about yourself.
You might make friends, you might make art. You might make both. I have made some of my best friends at residencies, and some have been more productive than others.
You can also create your own. Many writers have done this. I recommend one of two ways.
Grab a hotel room, or find a friend’s spare bedroom.
Kick everyone out of the house. With this option, simply refuse to take calls or respond to emails or look at your social media for a few days. And herein is the philosophical question of the day—why is this so impossible without finding new space?
Residencies are an excellent way to infuse adventure into your life. I won’t get into my journey here, but let’s just say I’m pretty sure I met two novels’ worth of characters on my drive alone.
Here are a few I’m considering applying to next year. Many offer a stipend and time/space. If I don’t get into any of them, I will do as advised above and make my own.
Franconia Sculpture Park, Minnesota
Longhaven Artists Residency, Tennessee
And if you’re in the market for residencies and want some recommendations, here are a few I’ve attended and enjoyed:
Vermont Studio Center (it’s been a while, but it was lovely, and food was everywhere)
Rockvale Writers’ Colony (where I am now)
Art Farm (this one made me work, but it also gave me one of my best friends and some of my most interesting stories)
I have one day left, and we’ll see what happens. Then there’s the long trek home. Maybe I’ll meet some characters for my next book. In the meantime, I wanted to share my view. :)
xo Jen
I owe myself a trip to Rockvale!
What a view! Looking forward to reading what comes out if it.