Last week, I had the extraordinary privilege of writing in Edith Wharton’s boudoir at The Mount.
You know when you have a dream that the best thing you could imagine happens — you get your dream job, or your feature film premieres, or you become besties with Gillian Anderson — and then you wake up, and mourn what wasn’t?
Every day of my residency at The Mount was that dream, except I got to live that dream for a whole week. I got to share quiches and coffee with fellow writers, walk the grounds of Edith Wharton’s creative haven, wander its Gilded Age halls, read Darwish on its velvet sofas, thumb through the pages of the books that were dearest to her, make silly videos with its tapestries, all on an endless supply of tea, support, and positivity. I got to break ground on the first revision of my novel, and see just how far I’ve come as a writer in the short two years since I’ve started writing fiction, and how far I still have to go.
This residency was a gift. — not only the time and (gorgeous) space it gave me to play and create, or the community I’ll carry with me for life, but the way it changed how I think about myself and my writing.
Thank you
@themountlenox and
@strawdogwriters . You’ll the first to receive updates on my novel.
Fiction writers, nonfiction, poets, playwrights, screenwriters — I can’t recommend this residency highly enough. It’s fully funded plus an honorarium and travel stipend, and they take such excellent care of you with meals, swag, infinite snacks, and moral support. DM me if you want to talk more about my experience or about applying!
