Art, Pray, Love: On the Unexpected Benefits of a Residency + 6 Tips to Make It Worth Your While
Nada Alic / WNW Member
A few weeks ago, I attended a creative writing residency in Banff, Alberta. I spent two weeks living in a hotel room somewhere in the mountains, completely isolated from any signs of civilization besides a sleepy downtown drag mostly populated by Australian snowboarders working at cafes during the off season and Patagonia-clad tourists buying novelty mugs and bear spray. The absence of traffic, garbage, and access to unlimited entertainment I was accustomed to in LA was designed to provide optimal conditions for me to sit down and write, meet other writers and try out deep, uninterrupted thinking for maybe the first time in my life.
The intent of a residency is to remove any friction from an artist’s life in order for them to have a space to create. Think of it as a creative vacation. Most people don’t have the luxury of escaping to the mountains to work on their creative projects, so I already felt an enormous amount of pressure to “do it right” and not squander the experience. I was skeptical; not so much of the program, but of my ability to be generative in such an unfamiliar place. I wondered if I would make the most of it, or instead spend the entire time learning how to free solo or identify native trees. Still, I was thrilled to get to finally tell family and friends that I was doing something writerly, hoping that the act of going would somehow legitimize me as a real writer.
Before I applied, I always thought of residencies to be more in the realm of myth—like how people say they just got back from the south of France and that I must go (What’s the big deal? What’s happening over there?) It seemed these friends always returned from their residencies with stories of exotic places, new friendships, and a fresh body of work. The truth is, residencies vary from completely self-directed time, to hyper-focused project specific workshops, to broader artist residencies that mix and host artists from all disciplines. My program offered a mix of unstructured writing time, group activities, workshops, and editorial reviews, so the structure of it felt less intimidating than other residencies that just provide you with a place to work and sleep.
“I have a tendency to convince myself that there is only one way to be productive: just sit down and do the work. I forgot how much I needed other people.”
There are so many residencies all over the world; you can find them on online directories like this one, or just google any city plus the word residency and I guarantee you’ll find one there. Ultimately, residencies depend a lot on where you’re at as an artist, your financial and work situation (most residencies are more than a week long), and how comfortable you are completely removing yourself from your regular life. Some residencies offer scholarships and grants to help offset the cost of your travel and stay. I had half of mine covered by donors through the program, which helped a lot. If you don’t think you’ll get in, apply anyway. You’d be surprised; sometimes it’s just a numbers game.
So much of a creative’s life requires solitude for self-directed work, which leaves very little room for collaboration, feedback or even novel experiences. For so long I thought writing meant punishing myself by sitting at my desk for several hours a day with only podcasts and indoor plants to keep me company. I have a tendency to convince myself that there is only one way to be productive: just sit down and do the work. I forgot how much I needed other people. On a soul level, the residency kind of saved me. I had no idea that what I needed most was feedback and collaboration, not more hours logged at a desk. If you’ve been thinking about it, here are some things to consider before you apply.
Have some work to show before you go
Ideally you already have some work or project to bring to a residency. I’d been working on a new body of work for the last year? Decade? I can’t remember, but I had enough raw work to focus on during my stay. Having completed work helps a lot if you’re looking for critique, even if it’s just first drafts, or in the case of visual art: a portfolio. I didn’t have to stress about producing new stuff quickly while I was there because I had so much existing work to pull from. That meant I had more time to edit, write if I felt like it, or meet up with other writers. Some of the writers didn’t have a lot of existing work so they spent their time producing and often mentioned that it wasn’t their best work or said it was rushed because they’d just written it. Bring the work that best represents your style so that you can get the most accurate feedback.
You can do whatever you want
My residency resembled a campus environment, so it reminded me a lot of college. It didn’t help that I wore a backpack everywhere and subsisted solely on cafeteria food. Unlike college, I’m now a full grown, autonomous adult woman which means I can do whatever I want. It took me a few days to figure out that nothing was mandatory, so I was able to assess whether my time was better spent writing or attending a workshop or going on a group hike. As someone who always follows the rules, knowing I had that freedom was unusually thrilling for me. Having that kind of freedom means you really have to keep yourself accountable. Ultimately, it’s your residency, no one is forcing you to do anything. You can literally do whatever you want.
“If your goal is to meet other writers and take some time to just think about your work, then give yourself permission to do that. If your goal is to get some work done, then don’t over commit to socializing.”
You’re a part of a temporary society
Even if you’ve come to get away from it all, you still have to learn how to make friends. The isolated nature of a residency has a way of accelerating intimacy among strangers who have nothing else to do and no one else to hang out with besides each other. I had 20 people in my program, and I didn’t realize that a lot of my time would be spent with them. I had this idea that I would just do my own thing most of the time then bump into a few of them at the cafeteria…but no. At first, I resisted, because I’m shy and easily overwhelmed by small talk. The first couple of days, I relived my high school nightmare of trying to find someone to sit next to at lunch. It felt uncomfortable until I realized that everyone felt the same way.
I found myself unexpectedly enthralled by my fellow writers’ stories: the places they’d come from, the things they’d experienced, their own doubts and fears about their work and about the program. I quickly identified my go-to friends and we agreed to meet and edit each other’s work, eat together, and eventually entrust one another with our life stories beginning from birth. While we would have likely never met under different circumstances and were different in almost every way, we bonded through this shared strange journey we were on and commiserated over how hard it was to write. Truthfully, I learned more from my peers than from the program itself. I now consider these people life-long friends; this was easily the best and most valuable part of my residency experience.
Prepare for (constructive) criticism
Having your work reviewed is an extremely vulnerable experience and your capacity to grow depends on your tolerance for criticism. There’s that Hollywood narrative where the small-town theater star comes to LA and realizes they’re not the greatest and thousands of other people are doing the same thing. On a smaller scale, the residency experience can feel like this. At home, people generally think my work is good but these people aren’t editors. They are extremely kind, biased friends. A small part of me hoped that the editor assigned to me would see my inherent specialness, but that wasn’t the case. My work was thoroughly edited, as if all of my blemishes were exposed under fluorescent lighting. At first it sucked, but after I reviewed them, I realized that my editor’s goal was to make me a better writer, and sometimes that means being straightforward and at times, brutal. You may not agree with the way other people perceive your work but it’s a crucial practice to learn about what your work evokes from different people, because how your work makes other people feel is the whole point, regardless of what your intention is. Trust the process!
“There’s that Hollywood narrative where the small-town theater star comes to LA and realizes they’re not the greatest and thousands of other people are doing the same thing. On a smaller scale, the residency experience can feel like this.”
Prepare for the occasional bout of sadness or discomfort
The most difficult thing to prepare for is how you’ll deal with leaving your regular life. You don’t have the regular comforts of your own bed, your favorite foods, your loved ones. In their place, you will try to create new routines and new relationships, but it might all feel a little off. It was the small things that made me panic: I didn’t have HBO, I saw my friends on Instagram doing things without me, I missed eating my own food, I didn’t know how I would get through the week. Residencies are a great opportunity to learn who you are without all of the things you think make you, you. Pay attention to that. Being alone in a new environment is a quick way to teach you what you’ve been clinging to, what you can live without, what parts of your life represent who you are vs. who you want people to see you as. You’re going to feel sad and weird, and that’s okay. Lean into that sadness and get familiar with it, don’t let it consume you; instead, take it as a sign that you’re doing the work. The real work, not just the work on the page. The more you can do things that scare you, the more you can feel safe anywhere you are. You can only ever create from a sense of safety, so think of it as your most powerful creative tool.
“Being alone in a new environment is a quick way to teach you what you’ve been clinging to, what you can live without, what parts of your life represent who you are vs. who you want people to see you as.”
Have a goal in mind for what you hope to achieve
Looking back, I wish I had a goal for what I wanted to get out of the experience, but sometimes it’s hard to know when you’ve never done a residency before. I spent a lot of the time being led by the day’s itinerary instead of letting my own intuition guide me. That meant a decent amount of meandering, and waiting around for the next workshop to start. Or saying yes to another hike when I should have been setting up meetings with program directors. It wasn’t a bad strategy, it just wasn’t a strategy. If your goal is to meet other writers and take some time to just think about your work, then give yourself permission to do that. If your goal is to get some work done, then don’t overcommit to socializing. You can’t do everything, and if you’re hoping to be productive, social and have new experiences, you’re going to be disappointed that you could only partially commit to each one. Trust yourself and don’t get overwhelmed by the amount of things you could do, then panic and watch Taylor Swift YouTube videos in your room instead. (Me).
Residencies can be hugely formative for how we see ourselves as creatives. If you feel like it’s not for you or that you can do your work just as well in your own space, I challenge you to question that. Often our need for control or our fear of putting ourselves out there and doing something totally out of our comfort zone is the thing that is killing our creativity. While I didn’t get a ton of new writing done, I returned home with a handful of dear friends, a new perspective on my work and a deeper understanding of the importance of community and why I cannot create without it.
Nada Alic is a Los Angeles-based editor, writer and content strategist with 9 years of professional experience. Currently, she's working on a collection of fiction. Previously, Nada was the Editorial Director for e-comm arts platform Society6. Before that, she was agency-side, managing editorial for Gap Inc. properties. She also built Etsy's first Canadian HQ, and has had work featured in VICE, Nasty Gal, Ephemera Mag, Time Out LA, Cool Hunting, and People of Print.
Header Illustration by WNW Member Holly Stapleton