Writing Residencies: The Millay Colony in Austerlitz, New York
Beautiful Barn Life: part 1 of a series on writing residencies
This post is part one of a series on writing residencies, in which I’ll share my writing residency experiences and how to apply. If you like this post, you might also enjoy reading The Highs, Lows, and Lessons of a Long-Term Writing Career. And if you enjoy my posts on writing, you might like my books.
For a period of several years early in my writing career, I did a one-month writing residency each year. I thought I would share a few of the residencies with you in a short series. At the bottom of each post, you will find deadlines and links to the application.
If all of this is new to you, you can scroll down to read, “What is a writing residency?”
The Millay Colony and Life in the Barn
The first official writing residency I ever had was at the Edna St. Vincent Millay Colony in Austerlitz, New York. I think I was 28. The bucolic property, called Steepletop, had been the home of the poet Edna St. Vincent Millay. The colony was founded in 1973 by Millay’s sister, the artist Norma Millay Ellis.
The main building atop a hill is modern, constructed in the nineties and designed to provide universal access to artists of all abilities. I lived and wrote in the big white barn downhill from the main house, which maintained its cozy, barnish charm.
According to the website,
In 1976, Norma donated the Barn (constructed from a Sears Roebuck kit decades before) to the Colony to make space for additional Artists-in-Residence.
There were five residents in all, if I recall correctly: three visual artists and two writers. The other writer was named Jack. Both of us lived in the barn. A writer, after all, needs little more than a desk and a window. We shared the barn with Pattie Lee, the youngest visual artist in residence.
We had a blast in the barn. I loved it so much and wouldn’t have traded it for a fancier room in the main house. I loved my barn-mates, who were a hoot. We worked hard form early morning to late afternoon, and had a bit to drink in the evenings when we could procure it, usually while sitting on the floor. I seem to remember climbing on the rafters but that can’t be right; I’ve never been particularly acrobatic. The three of us used to go outside and look at the big starry sky in the middle of the night. Once we saw a wild animal, I don’t remember what kind of animal it was but it was much scarier than a deer and mildly less scary than a bear, and we ran stumbling back to the barn through the snow, Jack shouting at us to “go! go! I’ll protect you!” in a way that felt sincere but not entirely convincing. I believe he was from LA.
I can’t remember Jack’s last name, but I remember Pattie Lee quite well. She was and is a talented artist. At that time she was interested in architecture and skylines. When I got married a few years later she sent my husband and me a beautiful original painting of a geometric urban skyline in blue, which hung above our mantle for many years in many houses, including San Francisco and Paris and our current home in a small Northern California town.