Two weeks at Annaghmakerrig
Along the Ulster Canal Greenway in Monaghan town.
I’d been hearing about the Tyrone Guthrie Centre—informally known as Annaghmakerrig, for the lake it adjoins—since my grad-school days at NUI Galway, and I don’t know why it took me so many years to apply. My dear friends Deirdre and Seanan have both attended, enjoyed swimming in the lake and got a ton of good words down. When Seanan invited me to his wedding outside Dublin back in May, he suggested I finally apply so I could head up there afterwards.
(For anyone just finding me: this is Ireland we’re talking, in the Republic but up near the border. Map here.)
Okay, I do know why it took me so long: because as a non-EU citizen, I wouldn’t be eligible for funding, and until recently I couldn’t justify the cost, although the fees are quite reasonable. As a self-catering guest (they don’t accommodate vegan or gluten-free diets in the main house), the weekly rate was €400. At first I was a tiny bit annoyed about not being able to stay in the house (I was spoiled by the chef at Hawthornden, what can I say?), but the “cottages” (which are actually two-level apartments around a courtyard lush with rosebushes) are comfortable and very charming, and though I enjoyed the little bit of socializing I did do (a few brief chats in passing and a Sunday-evening open gallery tour), I reached my limit pretty quickly and hightailed it back to my desk.
Time-travel novel notes.
I’m in a very different place in life than I was back in 2010 (Yaddo) and 2013 (Hawthornden); after my best friend’s wedding and driving around Mayo and Sligo with my partner, and aware of how precious this time would be given my impending move to Richmond (decluttering and packing took AGES, and I was also taking care of my niece for much of July), I only wanted to write.
(And walk around the lake continuing to think about what I was writing.)
The bay window in my sitting room/study.
I got a lot of reading done too, aided by a full and eclectic bookcase. The Vaster Wilds might just be on my top-ten list of ALL-TIME FAVORITE NOVELS (!), Allan Gurganus’s story “Forced Use” (in The Faber Book of Gay Short Fiction) absolutely blew my mind, and I also really enjoyed Jess Kidd’s Mr. Flood’s Last Resort.
As for food, I did my grocery shopping at Aldi in Monaghan town the night before (fortunately my B&B had a fridge!), and when a couple of dancer/playwrights who were staying in the cottages departed, I inherited more than enough vegetables to get me through the two weeks (thank you, David and Miles!) I had resolved to eat simply—beans and toast, veggie burgers, Linda McCartney sausages, soup from a packet, etc.—so I found that self catering didn’t take away from my work-time at all. Like I said, because I kept to myself, I actually had more time and energy for work than if I’d stayed in the main house.
On the weekends I fixed slightly more elaborate meals.
The cottage kitchens are very well appointed (air fryer! hooray!), and when I ran out of the instant espresso I’d brought I was able to use the free coffee in the main-house kitchen.
Todd sent me flowers, so life was super-abundant with roses inside AND out!
This recap (like all my residency recaps) is an encouragement to apply. Even if you’re not an EU citizen, you may find it worth dipping into your savings for an opportunity for extra-focused work-time in some of the most tranquil surroundings imaginable. (Or to work in community, if that’s what you need.) A few more practicalities, in case you do:
There’s efficient bus service from the Dublin airport via Bus Éireann Expressway (€32 round trip if you buy in advance). A taxi from Monaghan town to Annaghmakerrig will run you €40 (cash only) each way (there’s a recommended taxi service, the number is included in the orientation PDF). You can definitely time your arrival so that you don’t have to spend the night in town (my partner’s flight home was the day before my residency started, and it was a lot easier to grocery-shop without my luggage! There is no official left luggage service at the bus station, although the lady at the coffee shop was kind enough to hold my bag for me for a couple hours on my way back, so it’s definitely worth asking.)
The nearest villages are absolutely not walkable because of the winding shoulderless roads, but I didn’t find it necessary to rent a car for this part of my trip, I just made sure I had enough groceries for the full two weeks. (Seanan drove up to take me out to dinner one night, but I still would’ve had enough food.) It’s certainly possible to hitch a ride with someone else, just leave a note on the fridge in the main-house kitchen.
Two more notes:
I met artists working in a very broad range of creative disciplines, a couple of whom confessed that they hadn’t expected their work was “serious enough” for a successful application. Happily, they were wrong. Don’t count yourself out.
And I highly recommend swimming in the lake, no matter how cold it is. I didn’t stay in long, but it was so so invigorating.
If you have been to Annaghmakerrig, I’d love to hear about your experience!
P.S. The International Rescue Committee is the humanitarian aid organization to which I contribute on a monthly basis. Here’s a link so you can click through and donate if you feel so inclined.
Letter to a Reluctant Traveler
When I was nineteen, I had the opportunity to write for a travel guide called Hanging Out in Ireland. It was going to be my job for the summer: to travel for five weeks around the southern half of the island, taking notes on every castle, restaurant, hostel and pub, then come home and write 100,000 words. I was elated, and I was terrified. My mother felt all the terror and none of the elation. She said, "Can't you get an office job?"
Out for a day in Donegal with my Cavan cousins on a solo trip to Ireland, 2001.
Dear Friend,When I was nineteen, I had the opportunity to write for a travel guide called Hanging Out in Ireland. It was going to be my job for the summer: to travel for five weeks around the southern half of the island, taking notes on every castle, restaurant, hostel and pub, then come home and write 100,000 words. I was elated, and I was terrified. My mother felt all the terror and none of the elation. She said, "Can't you get an office job?"If I had listened to my mother, my life would have taken an entirely different turn, so I am grateful I had the good sense not to. I breathed through the anxiety. I packed my passport and boarded the plane. I spent the first couple days bumbling around Counties Kildare and Wicklow feeling completely lost and lonely and incompetent. I remember my first night, in a hotel in Kildare town--what the hell was I even doing in Kildare town?--sleeping off my jet lag only to find myself wide awake in the middle of the night. I trembled with indignation when I overheard a night porter telling his friend that I was "some stupid feckin' American asking questions." I watched Angelina Jolie in a TV movie on a little television mounted to the ceiling. I'm pretty sure I cried myself to sleep.Eventually I found my footing. I started talking to people--nice people--I began to smile again, I took copious notes, I had lots and lots of adventures. I stood on clifftops, trod reverently through the ruins of monasteries, listened to exuberant traditional music sessions in crowded pubs, walked "home" at 2AM under a dome of stars and thanked God for my existence. That summer I had my first real taste of independence (and Guinness, and banoffee pie, and sticky toffee pudding). I grew into myself.I would love for you to have that sort of experience too, whether it's your first sleep-away camp or a year-long round-the-world backpacking trip. Wherever you are longing to go, you owe it to yourself to go there. If it scares you, that's how you know you HAVE to do it. Don't settle into routines, don't satisfy yourself with the friends you already have; spend too much time together and eventually you will find there is nothing left to say. It's so much nicer to go away--do lots of fun things on your own, think your own thoughts--then come home again and catch up properly. You will change, but hopefully they will love you all the more for it.Learn to enjoy moving through the world on your own. Solitude isn't an absence, it's a gift. You'll get used to walking into a restaurant and asking for a table for one; after the first couple times it won't feel so awkward. You are learning not to care what others think of you, and that they almost certainly aren't thinking or talking about you anyhow. Resist the impulse to grab a small pizza and a bottle of orange soda and pass the dinner hour on the floor of your hostel dormitory. If someone smiles at you, or makes a funny remark in passing, don't let it be in passing. Act on each and every hint of companionship, no matter how glancing. That girl assigned the upper bunk might be hoping to find a friend in you, too.Live your life like it's a Choose Your Own Adventure novel (where this analogy falls short is, you're the reader and the writer). No one else can live this life for you, and don't listen to anyone who thinks they know how you should live it. Trust your instincts and be willing to make a fool of yourself. You can't grow if you never make a mistake.So what do you mean, you don't have a passport? GET ON IT! And wherever you go, if you think of it, send me a postcard.love,Camille.