I just got back from doing a writing residency on the coast of Washington at the Sou’wester. i had a great time and spending the week outside of my normal routine really got me thinking about  the importance of shaking things up. So I wanted to write a post about that here, but first let me describe the place for you. ( A residency is different from a workshop etc. basically there is no structure, you’re time is your own to work as you please.)

It’s this weird little caravan of trailers all rigged up a stone’s throw from what is billed as “the longest beach in the world”. The surrounding country side is breathtaking. Rolling grassy dunes, and nearby wetlands, I have never seen so many varieties of wild birds in one spot: frigates, terns, gulls, ravens, eagles, falcons, robins, shearwater, ducks galore, as well as deer, and a baby seal! The most beautiful creature I saw was, strangely, a big snail with a fancy shell.

That’s a pic of my trailer. The trailers are decked out with everything you could wish for, a shower, kitchenette, and the coolest part a record listening room, with a well stocked collection of great records. I had forgotten how listening to vinyl is such a different experience than listening to something on iTunes. It is hard to explain why, but it is definitely the case. Just as writing with a computer feels different than writing with a pencil and paper. The words come out differently somehow. I now have to track down these three records, as I listened to them kind of obsessively all last week. Also, I feel like you end up enjoying different music than you might normal, when you are listening on vinyl.

1. Mississipi John Hurt – Today!

2. Led Zeppelin – Houses of the Holy

3. Laila Je T’Aime

I spent the mornings working on writing. The afternoon walking around on the longest beach. And the evening staring into a large outdoor fire and listening to records, while enjoying a drink I invented for the occasion: 1 part bourbon to two parts tart cherry juice. A Sou’Wester.

Now here is the point. Did I get more writing done than I usually do in a week? No. My daily output was the same as usual. But the experience of writing in a different location, with different scenery, with the ocean as a backdrop, changed everything. And changed the experience of working for a week in a way that is hard to describe, similar to the way that vinyl is different from mp3s. It is qualitatively different in a way that is hard to put your finger on. The main thing was I think, to get outside of the routine. And I am not saying you should always be trying to break your routine! Because having a daily routine is one of the most powerful things an artist can do. It helps you get into the groove so that you are committed to working every day.

No, I got the same amount of work done while staying at the writer’s residency as I would have working from home. But I came back from my stay feeling refreshed, feeling a new sense of purpose, spending days wandering aimlessly about on the beach gave me a new perspective on big picture stuff. I thought a lot about not just the project of that week ( a short story, which frankly I only half finished) but thinking about the purpose and focus of my work. Which is something that every artists needs to think about from time to time whether they be a writer, a painter, a musician, a poet, a dancer . . .

There are a lot of opportunities for artist’s to do residencies. I think a lot of times people think that doing a residency means traveling abroad for a few months to Paris or something likethat. But it doesn’t have to be, there are plenty of great opportunities nearby, and often they run for just a week. Some of them are 0-40 bucks to apply, while others are free. Here are some resources:

www.resartis.org/en/

http://www.artistcommunities.org/residencies

“a top 20 guide to residencies”

Now if you can’t afford to do a residency or can’t find one near you, I recommend this: just get a tent and a sleeping back and head to the coast, or the desert, or the forest for a few days. Bring your work with you. But remember it is not so much about the work that you get done while you are working outside of your routine, it is about that ineffable something, that you get from thinking about your art, your muse, your project, outside of the day to day routine. Try it and you are sure to come back feeling refreshed and in the groove for working on stuff back home in your regular day to day routine.

I’m going to give you some bad advice. As a writer I think you should constantly compare yourself to the Greats. I mean the greatest writers of all time, the people who wrote the classics. I know that a lot of people would disagree with me, and would say it is foolhardy as a young writer to constantly be comparing your writing to the work of people like Rilke, Faulkner, Hemingway, Beckett etc. That to compare yourself to the greatest writers of all time would be daunting to say the least, and maybe even so intimidating it would make you give up all hope of ever getting good.

(In his memoir Papa Hem talks of comparing himself to the old Russian writers, and constantly trying to “beat” them at writing.)

But I have noticed that we writers tend to fetishize, and lionize our idols too much. We respect the work of the Classics so much that we start to think that these Greats were superhumans who could do no wrong, and everything they wrote was pure genuis. Which isn’t the case at all, frankly every writer I just named did pen a few stinkers in his day. The thing is we tend to remember people for their best stuff, not their failures.

Of course when I say to compare yourself to Hemingway, Beckett etc. that’s if you want to write great literary fiction. If you just want to pen massive best sellers you should compare yourself and your writing to Stephen King, J.K. Rowling, George R. Marin etc. I am serious, whoever you literary hero is, when you approach a scene you should ask yourself, how would they write this scene . . .and now how can I do them one better.

This is why reading a lot is so crucial to knowing how to write well. If you are a bookworm you already know what works and what doesn’t. This is also why writing can’t really be learned by going to workshops and writer’s groups. Because it is actually learned by reading tons of books. You are either a reader or you’re not, if you don’t read and you think you can learn how to write . . . good luck pal.

In most other endeavors people naturally compare themselves to the greats all the time. For example tennis novices will constantly talk of how to swing a back hand like Roger Federer. Because they are holding up an example of the perfect form to emulate. Aspiring writers should stop putting a wall between themselves and their idols, and instead ask : how can I do what they did, and write like they wrote?

Secondly, and this is a little but trickier: not only should you compare your writing to the greats but it is good to compare your life against theirs. Let’s say you admire Beckett above all other writers. Then you should ask yourself: what would Beckett do in this situation? One must take oneself seriously in order to make this sort of comparison, but it goes a long way to developing a sense of self and a seriousness of intent that is vital to good writing. In other words, comparing yourself to the Greats keeps you serious about what you are doing. An artist must never be apologetic about what they are.

Beckett, Tangiers 1978. Check out those sandals!

It is good to know who your heroes are, as a writer. Here is a simple excerise. Make a simple list of 10 of your favorite writers of all time. Writers who you would be proud to be compared with. Keep that list in your desk drawer and look at it when you need motivation to try harder, to stretch for the highest apple on the tree.

Here is mine – obviously yours will be totally different! (and I’m not saying these are the 10 greatest writers of all time! just that, for me they are role models. They are who I train to compete with. I want to become just as good as my heroes, or die trying. Is that arrogant? Yes! Must a writer be arrogant? No, (consider Kafka) but it certainly helps.)

1. Roberto Bolano

2. Haruki Murakami

3. Hemingway

4. Salinger

5. Dostoevsky

6. Cormac McCarthy

7. J. R.R. Tolkien

8. David Foster Wallace

9. Gabriel Garcia Marquez

10. Richard Brautigan

(next week’s post: WWBW? – what would Beckett wear?)