I was the 2018 recipient of the Creative Hub / Earthskin Retreat writer’s residency. Here’s how I made the residency work for me … and why you should definitely consider applying.
I stomped along Back Beach Road next to my husband, mud flying like spittle as I vented my spleen. ‘Residencies are so stupid!’ I complained. ‘Six months in a cold house somewhere with a tiny stipend? That only suits people who are independently wealthy or already broke. What are people with jobs supposed to do? Quit?’ ‘Mmmm,’ said my husband, who had heard this rant before. ‘What should we do for dinner tonight?’ Not long afterwards, an email from The Creative Hub arrived in my inbox. ‘New Hub residency in Muriwai beauty spot,’ said the subject-line. ‘Another stupid residency,’ I thought. But I clicked anyway. ‘The residency will take place for the month of September 2018, and is open to anyone who has completed a Creative Hub writing course,’ the email said. ‘A month?’ I thought. ‘A month! That might just be do-able!’ And so, I applied. I figured my chances of being accepted were low ... to low to worry about working out the logistics. A while later, I received another email from The Creative Hub. ‘This email is to congratulate you on being the successful applicant for the 2018 September Earthskin / Creative Hub Muriwai Residency,’ it said. ‘OMG!’ I replied, in my finest prose. Time to work out those logistics! Q: How do I get the time? A: Hustle. A month is a wonderful, practical period of time for a residency – long enough to get stuck into a project, but short enough that if you have a job or other commitments, you can probably work the residency around them. In my case, I would normally have been able to take annual leave, but I had already booked my first-ever trip to Europe, and I wasn’t about to cancel that. Luckily my boss let me cobble together an arrangement whereby I took some annual leave, wrangled some study leave, and also worked remotely for a couple of hours each afternoon. (Working remotely was actually a useful tether to the outside world.) I’m based in Dunedin, but someone with family commitments who lived in Auckland might be able to use the space more like an office – staying there during the week and returning home during the weekends. If you think you might require extra flexibility, why not drop the Creative Hub an email and ask some questions before making your application. What’s the worst that could happen? Q: What do I do with the time? A: Spend it wisely. I made a time management plan before I arrived. My weekday routine was to get up at seven, do some pilates, have breakfast, and then write until at least midday with as much coffee as I wanted, but absolutely no internet. Then I had lunch, did my office work, and spent the rest of the afternoon reading, hanging out with the resident chicken, and going for a walk through the forest and down to the beach. After dinner I revised drafts, wrote blog posts and worked on illustrations for the next Bruce the Cat book. Weekends were a bit looser. I spent one weekend at the National Writers Forum, one weekend hosting a writing retreat for my Creative Hub cohort, and one holding a ‘show and tell’ at Earthskin Retreat and catching up with friends. Over the past couple of years I’ve read a lot about the routines of other writers, and most seem to write productively for three to five hours per day. Going into the residency, that was useful information to know – otherwise I might have flagellated myself trying to write all hours of the day and night. Having time up my sleeve for thinking, reading and revising was more useful than spending every waking hour at my keyboard. Q: What is Earthskin Retreat in Muriwai like? A: Glorious. Earthskin Retreat is a two-storey house nestled in amongst native bush. On a sunny day it’s toasty warm, and on a gloomy day there’s a fireplace to keep things cheerful. (Pro tip: bring slippers!) Muriwai itself is an inspiring spot. Living at Earthskin is like living in an aviary. (Pro tip: bring your camera!) The beach and the café are a short walk from Earthskin, and there’s also a dairy and takeaway shop just down the road. Q: What should I work on? A: Something you’ve thought about before you get there. In 2015 I undertook a two-week, self-funded residency at The NZ Pacific Studio, and while it was a great experience, I didn’t come away with a lot of decent work. I think that’s because I didn’t have a clear idea about what I wanted to achieve when I went into it. This time around, I had just completed a funding application for a collection of short stories. The application was ultimately unsuccessful, but the work I put into it set me up to make the most of the residency. By the time I got to Muriwai I already had an overarching project (the collection of short stories), a title with multiple facets of meaning (Pet), and outlines for several stories. The first story I wrote just poured out. Q: What will the outcomes of the residency be? A: Whatever you decide they’ll be … plus a bit more. I made a list of things I wanted to achieve during the residency. I knew I would end up deviating from the plan, but I also knew that having a rough map would help me stay on task. The list was:
In the end, I only completed one Bruce the Cat drawing. On the up-side, I wrote far more than two short story drafts. The first story I wrote, Emotional Support Animal, went on to come third in the Sunday Star-Times Short Story Competition. (The first and second place winners, Fiona Sussman and Eileen Merriman, are also Creative Hub graduates!) I wrote a piece of flash fiction that I'm really proud of, and I've just put the finishing touches on two other short stories I started on the residency. I also have a couple of other rough drafts ready to pull out and polish up. (And I wrote a couple of a real turds that ended up in the Earthskin Retreat fireplace. What a satisfying way to dispose of bad writing!) Beyond those tangible outcomes, I also had much more time to think than I do in my daily life. All that walking and thinking has enriched my writing and deepened my short story ideas. And of course, being selected to undertake the residency was a real boost to my confidence, and a big stride along my writing journey. Q: Should I apply? A: Yes! I skipped along Back Beach Road next to my husband, wildflower petals swirling in the warm air around us like confetti. ‘I’ve been thinking about this Sunday Star-Times thing,’ I said. ‘It really all stems from The Creative Hub. Doing the course, and staying connected with such a great cohort of people, and then getting the residency.’ ‘Mmmm,’ said my husband, who had heard about nothing but the Sunday Star-Times Short Story Competition for days. ‘What should we do for dinner?’ More details How to apply The Creative Hub / Earthskin Retreat residency is open to anyone who has completed a Creative Hub writing course. Applications close on 20 February 2019. Email [email protected] for details. Earthskin Retreat Visit the Earthskin Retreat website to learn more about the facilities. The Creative Hub Visit The Creative Hub website to learn more about the writing courses that are offered both in-person and online. I’ve been thinking a lot about animals since I’ve been here. Dogs set the hills alive with the sound of barking, rabbits set the park alive with more rabbits, and fat kererū set my mind alive as they fly through the nikau palms with their musical wings beating. I also buried a chicken R.I.P., and I’ve been walking tentatively around the garden lest I step on her fallen comrade, missing presumed munched. I keep hearing the phantom miaows of my two rescue cats Jager and Bruce, who are actually 1,500 kilometres away. For those who don’t know, Bruce is an internet cat, so I’m also interacting with his fans every day. Omaui’s plan to ban domestic cats has made the New York Times, and I read the frenzied comments by the generally calm and measured Times readers with increasing alarm. I practically wrote an essay about cat control in my mind as I walked along the beach this afternoon. Some people want their cats to live free-range lives. Other people want to dramatically reduce the number of cats. Personally I think we can do both, and perhaps I’ll write about that sometime. (But perhaps I won’t. Bruce is staunchly apolitical and I don’t want to draw him into the fray.) I’ve also been thinking about animals because I’m supposed to be thinking about animals. While I’m here I’m working on pieces of writing for a short story collection. The past two days I’ve spent the mornings writing, then a few hours after lunch doing paid work before going for a walk and coming back to work on illustrations for my next Bruce the Cat children’s book. The thing with the paid work is that all the rats and mice I thought I might be able to leave in Dunedin have followed me up here and are nibbling away at my drawing time. I’m going to have to set some traps. My short story collection is called Pet, and it explores the relationships we have with animals. I’m pleased with how the first story’s going. It involves an unexpected animal in an unexpected place, and I was actually laughing out loud this morning as I wrote it. Either it's funny, or after 3 1/2 days on my own I've already lost my mind. And I have some other animal news to share. When I went under the house to get some firewood this afternoon, someone was casually roosting on the workbench in the area I’d already checked at least ten times. The missing chicken! She’s alive! Thank you to The Creative Hub and Earthskin Retreat for the opportunity to undertake this residency.
I'm sitting beside a glowing fire, the wind and a maniacal hound howling outside, my jeans still muddy from the grave I dug earlier.
Yesterday I arrived in Auckland to take up a month-long creative residency at Earthskin Retreat. Little did I know as I picked up my rental car that I would soon be caught up in a murder mystery. I drove confidently through the Waterview Tunnel, marvelling at the feat of engineering and at the blinding sea as I hurtled from the channel's depths. I drove semi-confidently to Kumeu, where I picked up some groceries from a supermarket with clientele so moneyed that the price labels are typed in 'who reads this anyway' 4 point font. I drove somewhat less confidently through winding bush-lined streets to Muriwai Beach and I white-knuckled it down an almost vertical driveway. It didn't look like a murder scene. It looked like a gorgeous, sun-filled home surrounded by Nikau palms and cabbage trees. I lit the fire in a personal best of thirty minutes and spent the evening unpacking, looking for the chickens and finishing The New Animals. In retrospect, the fact that I was reading a dystopian novel that features a crazed dog was somewhat foreshadowing. That, and the fact that I couldn't find the chickens. In the morning I started as I mean to go on by rising early and doing Pilates for Beginners. I've been following along to this DVD for about six years and I still haven't moved up to intermediate level. As I was getting stuck into some writing a local man called Robin stopped by to tell me more about the property. He arrived with a bunch of yellow freesias and a bouquet of stories. Robin's in his 80s, but he's got three kids in their early teens to keep him young. In between tales of his Antarctic adventures, the challenges of vegan cooking and his surf lifesaving exploits he mentioned that it's been a bad year for bodies. There have been drownings here this year, and bodies have also washed ashore from drownings off other beaches. There has been a suicide. And now there's been a murder. In the afternoon I explored the property some more. I walked through a Nikau forest to a shimmering lake. I returned to the house and checked out the worm farm and the bokashi bin. I walked through a vegetable patch that has a 'secret garden' feel. And then I saw it. Beak down in the mud, surrounded by feathers and sodden with the previous night's rain. I wasn't sure what to do with the corpse of the chicken. After some consideration I decided to bury it. I'd never dug a grave before. In fact I can't remember ever digging anything. But at length, the grave was dug. I maneuvered the surprisingly heavy chicken onto the spade and lowered it head-first into the dismal hole before covering it with mud. Unsure whether or not the grave was deep enough to prevent the chicken from resurfacing, I decorated it with the biggest rock I could find. To lighten the mood I decided to walk to the beach. On my way up the driveway, I crossed paths with an unleashed Rottweiler. The beach was wild and stormy. I wondered how many bodies have washed up on it over the years. I wondered if I'll find the body of the second missing chicken. I wondered if I should get out of the rain. When I returned to Earthskin I lit the fire in a personal best of twenty minutes. I broke open a block of Lindt 'pink grapefruit' dark chocolate. I don't know what it cost, but it's delicious. Thank you to The Creative Hub and Earthskin Retreat for the opportunity to undertake this residency. |
AuthorKathryn van Beek (she/her) is a Pākehā New Zealander of Dutch and English descent. A Robert Burns Fellow and a Winston Churchill McNeish Writers’ Fellow, Kathryn has a doctorate on the topic of using writing as a tool for positive change. Archives
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