What happens at an artist colony? I keep getting asked this, and each one is different, but here at the Djerassi Resident Artists Program in the northern California mountains I’ll give you a small peek of what happens:

You must apply to get in, and international artists of many disciplines can apply, so right now I am here with seven other artists: another fiction writer, a playwright, a choreographer, a composer, a media artist, and two visual artists. We live together in two shared spaces (an Artists’ House that holds mostly writers and an Artists’ Barn that holds special studios for dancers and composers and visual artists). We don’t pay to be here and we’re not given a cash prize: The award is the time and space itself. It’s the month of being here, doing our work. We eat dinner together at night and share presentations with one another. In fact, my presentation is tonight! (Nervous.) We talk. We crave cake and pounce on it when the amazing chef provides a dark chocolate Guinness cake with cream cheese frosting (oh my!). And during the workdays and late at night we wander the house in our pajamas, deep in our creative stupors, going back again and again for more coffee or more tea.

You’re here to do your work, at your own pace, for yourself, in any way you want. No one is policing your time—or your internet usage. If tomorrow I want to lie on the porch outside my sliding glass door with my notebook on my face and “write” in my head, I can do that. If I want to stay in pajamas all day and have a strawberry breakfast and write as much as my fingers will spit out, I can do that also—in fact, I might just do that.

We’ve also been: amusing ourselves with poems and scary stories; trading books; laughing; sharing chores; baking sweet potatoes over a wood stove; admiring the amazing view of the land and the Pacific Ocean in the distance; eating the delicious food the chef makes us for weeknight dinners; not watching TV; and working, tons.

The on-site staff members who live and eat with us are also artists—so you’re surrounded at all times by creative people. Oh and animals. So far I’ve seen: one snake, two bunnies, multiple deer, one hummingbird, and Neil Young’s cows.

The Pacific Ocean sometimes looks like a part of the sky. And on the property, in the woods, are a series of sculptures made by artists who’ve been residents here. They’re like treasures, peppered throughout the trees, made to last as long as they will and then weather away and become a part of the forest.

Feel free to ask me questions, but I hope this explains it!

To find out more about Djerassi artist residencies and sculpture tours open to the public, visit www.djerassi.org. 

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A tiny note about the world outside the artist colony: Yes yes, I know The Hunger Games opens tomorrow. Yes, I am in mourning that I don’t have a way to see it. Please don’t tell me how awesome it is. I won’t be able to contain my jealousy. Just please go and make the movie very, very popular so it is still in theaters when I get back to New York City on April 13!

Part of me wants to stay silent while I’m here at the artist colony in the misty northern California mountains, but another part of me wants to acknowledge where I am, in this moment, and that part of me has won out. I’m here to write. I’ve learned it’s important to keep yourself open when you go away on a writing residency: Whatever you are inspired to do, you should absolutely do. You don’t know what could happen. Follow your whims like you can’t always do so at home—and also write as much as you can, absorbing the scenery and the silence and the distance from reality. Of course, I currently have a deadline for a small piece due in to my publisher, but once I turn that in, my path is wide open and there are a few things I could find myself working on. No rules. No limits.

I am living here with other artists (most are not writers, which I find fascinating!) and I’m writing a special something I will share with you one day soon, and eating some very delicious food. My first few days here have been all the more magical because of the rain—my most favorite sound in the universe—and the pale mist that surrounds our house makes it seem as if I’ve entered another dimension. When it clears and the rain stops this weekend, I’ll be able to see all around us to where we are… and in the near distance the Pacific Ocean.

I have a notebook with butterflies on it and new pages written already. And I do miss E, but he’ll be reading everything I write while I’m here. I can’t wait to show him.