One of my writing goals for 2020 was to finish writing a memoir I started years ago about my time in Australia. I put a good dent in it at the beginning of the pandemic, but once life returned somewhat to normal, I put it back down.
In September of last year, I started researching writers’ residency programs where I could really buckle down and do the work. One was the Hambidge Center for Arts and Sciences, an arts organization in North Georgia, two hours from my home.
Started by Mary Hambidge in 1934, it’s one of the oldest in the nation. She and her partner Jay were both artists. After his death, she moved to this part of the country and worked as a weaver, influenced by her time in Greece.
After her death in 1973, the collection of cabins became an artist colony of sorts. Since then, hundreds of writers, artists, chefs, and scientists have spent time working on their projects.
I heard back in January saying I’d been accepted and I chose a two-week session for the end of March. But then the world shut down and with it, the center.
A few months later, Hambidge had started accepting fellows again, now with safety precautions in place like mask requirements indoors and meals served to-go. I chose another time to return, for the end of November.
The days went slowly at first as I struggled to adjust to the quiet and lack of connection. There was no cell service for miles and only Internet in one building, not in the cabins. I developed a routine, waking up before 8, reading in bed, making tea, going for a hike, and settling into work.
I met my fellow Fellows, all working on different projects. A few were also writers, working on novels, plays, and poetry collections. Some were artists, specifically in ceramics and collage. One was even working on a musical art project. We had vegetarian dinners together, catching up on what we’d done that day.
I also explored the nearby towns, browsing the shops, visiting wineries, and even climbing a mountain for sunrise. I befriended the animals that roamed the property, including three cats and a range of dogs that lived nearby.
But more than anything, I wrote. I wrote thousands more words, surpassing my 50,000 word goal, and re-wrote what I’d done already, unhappy with some of the passages. It represented the longest I’d been away from home in over a year, maybe even since I got back from South Africa.
I don’t know what’s next for my book, but I’m so thankful that I had this time away to write.
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