Creative in Crom-Arty

In 1830, at the northeastern tip of the Black Isle in the Scottish Highlands, on the shore of the picturesque village of Cromarty, Hugh Miller discovered imprints of life sandwiched between layers of rock 400 million years old. Last week, embraced by walls fashioned from the same sandstone, thirteen undergraduates gathered to marinate in time and activities designed to feed our love of writing.

The Old Brewery in Cromarty (1776), with its twelve bedrooms, four group rooms and kitchen, is an ideal environment to relax and nurture the creative juices. On the menu, in addition to free writing time, four tutors offered a range of literary recipes for us to sample. We were shown techniques for stage performance to help read to an audience and tips for writing monologues; we examined pieces of lyrical prose and practised writing in that style. On the beach, we hopped into a time machine to cook up inspiration for poetry. A workshop on confidence building gave us tools with which to face fear and uncertainty.

Other ingredients included the chance to socialise with those who share a passion for writing and the opportunity to read out examples of our work to a supportive and appreciative audience. Students ranged in age from nineteen to their sixties, write in several genres, each with their own unique style, all equally talented and inspiring.

Some might call these few days a “writing retreat”, but for me, it was anything but. My normal life is a retreat, living as I do in an isolated hobbity cottage half a mile from the nearest road, and generally, I don’t get out much. The thought of mixing with a group of people mostly unknown to me stirs up a soup of trepidation. I feel like a hermit crab out of its shell, exposed and vulnerable. But over the years I’ve learnt to be brave and engage in activities that make me feel uncomfortable. I am almost always glad I have done so, and these few days were such an occasion.

It has been inspiring to mix with other writers. Humans are social animals, so it’s an opportunity for me to re-socialise myself in a safe environment and feed a part of my soul I hadn’t realised was hungry. Now I feel suitably nourished, I can return home and savour the aftertaste as I digest this feast of creativity.