A Review of the Shannel Trust Studio

Last month, I left behind my family, house, job and dog to spend a week alone in a cabin.

I’d heard about the Shannel Trust Studio, and it appealed to me immediately. It’s a quiet space to retreat from the real world for a measured length of stay to work, study, write, paint or research projects in line with the Trust values of conservation, creativity, and education. However, my imposter syndrome reared its ugly head. I wasn’t a real author. I put it out of my head. But then a friend persuaded me to apply, and my application was accepted.

Before I left, I was both worried I would love it and worried I would hate it. If I loved it too much, there was the danger I would forgo civilisation altogether to become a moss-eating hermit in the woods and eventually die because I ate the wrong moss or something. If I hated it, it was possible I’d run away screaming, thus proving I was a big wuss, and eventually die full of regret.

Fortunately, I liked it just the right amount, and I’m happy to be back with my family, not eating moss nor languishing in self-condemnation.

Here’s how it went.

Day one was spent setting up. The Shannel Studio has bedding and pillows, but you bring your own sheets and towels. It’s like playing house, the adult version, and I loved it. It’s a light and airy wood cabin with huge windows and beautiful views, but more importantly, none of my crap. No laundry to be done. No stuff to tidy up. No family meals to plan and prepare. You do bring your own food, but my grocery shop consisted of picking up a bunch of stuff I like to eat. The most cooking I did was reheating chicken tenders. I love cooking, but after planning and cooking tens of thousands of meals, this was a welcome break.

And after everything was set up, I wrote. Every day for seven days.

No one was depending on me, no one needed me - this was time for me and my craft. I could explore ideas, confident in the knowledge that my thought process would not be interrupted. My fictional world enveloped me. It’s times like this, when I’ve immersed myself in my story, that those puzzle pieces snap into place. It’s a satisfying feeling.

Not all of my writing consisted of putting down words. Most of my writing happens in my head, while I’m doing something that takes a certain amount of brain power, like ironing, or cycling, or walking. The Shannel has a nice, easy trail, one you can follow for miles without taking much focus. I walked this same trail every day to think through my ideas.

My strange writing quirk is that I act out the scene, often out loud, while I’m walking or cycling. There may be a few cyclists out there who passed a crazy woman talking to herself and answering in a slightly different voice. That’s me. I’m the crazy woman. But maybe you have to be a bit mad to be an indie author - to write book after book without knowing if anyone will read it. Fortunately for the world, there are a few of us nut bars out there. It would be a boring planet without us.

Now, I say I was alone, but that’s not entirely true. The cabin is adjacent to a farm, so there were plenty of farm animals about. I woke up to cocks crowing and cattle lowing and had the odd equine visitor, one of whom tried to eat my chair, but for me, those were welcome distractions. If you’re nervous around farm animals, this might not be the retreat for you. Farm life is intrinsically woven into the story of the Shannel.

The Shannel Studio was once the studio of artist Diana E. Brown. From what I understand, she and her husband, Ian Alcott, left big city life in London to become hill farmers here in Aberdeenshire. I found their story quite inspiring. We all live with expectations, and it’s easy to get caught up in the people-pleasing game, but Ian left a lucrative career, and they made a life doing what they loved. Ian had several books published about hill farming and deer (they were very interested in deer), and Diana illustrated many of them, as well as producing a body of artistic work. They wouldn’t have known they could make a living hill farming, writing, and painting - but they did it anyway.

I almost didn’t post my videos about the retreat. I was worried that people might think my voice was annoying, or judge me for being a fat bastard, or think I didn’t deserve the chance to use the studio, But, I took a page out of Ian and Diana’s book (not literally, they’re all intact, I promise) and I did it anyway.

After the week was up and I left the studio, I was happy to get home, but also happy I’d done the retreat. And I’d finished my second draft. It was the best-case scenario.

I wish I’d conquered all of my demons, free to go forth into the writing world with confidence, but alas, it’s an ongoing struggle.

A struggle I will win.

Maybe.