Karuna Ezara Parikh has never attended a writers’ retreat as a participant. Yet, when the spoken-word poet, screenwriter, and author was approached to host one, she was immediately keen on the idea. “I was contacted by Kyo Spaces, a retreat organisation I’ve admired since inception,” the 40-year-old notes, “I’d never ventured to assume this was something I could do but was delighted to be asked.”
Since 2023, Parikh has hosted two retreats amidst Goa’s lush landscapes; she’s set to host another next month in Kolkata. She confesses that the cost inaccessibility of these experiences is something she wonders how to work around. “My retreats with Kyo tend to be highly priced due to their locations, which are luxury hotels, and while that’s not up to me, I do know that it cuts off access for many. In the future, I would like to work with sponsors or scholarships or even at locations that are less pricey.”
Writing retreats and residencies like Parikh’s give participants a chance to attend immersive workshops and group sessions, receive personalised feedback from mentors, and form daily structures and routines that revolve around writing. However, these experiences—which usually take place in tranquil, natural spaces, away from the trappings of daily life—often cost more than the average full-time writer can spend. Set in the mountains, The Himalayan Writing Retreat in Nainital, which offers a range of courses through the year, for instance, costs anywhere above ₹30,000 for a little over three days. Nayani Kushal Goyal, who will be attending The Writer’s Room, Parikh’s retreat in Kolkata, reveals that she is spending ₹90,000 plus taxes for a three-night stay at The Glenburn Penthouse in a room she’s sharing with another person.
The 29-year-old participant, who recently quit her job as an assistant executive producer at Star Plus to pursue writing full-time, confesses she was initially “very, very apprehensive” about this steep cost. “I kind of justified it by reminding myself that one of the reasons I’m going to the retreat is that I haven’t had a break in so long and am fatigued and burnt out, so this doubles as a vacation.” Goyal likes that the retreat is not solely focused on writing but offers a complete cultural experience that includes yoga sessions, food tastings, and a city tour. She also finds that she works better in group settings as she makes the transition into working as a writer full-time.
This idea of a creative community was also what most appealed to many participants of writing retreats. Take 31-year-old Jaspreet Virk Grewal, whose full-time job as an HR professional means her days are usually spent in the office “with little room for creativity or sharing my love for the written word”. In 2024, Grewal signed up for literary consultancy Siyahi’s writing retreat hosted in Jaipur, aiming “to find kindred spirits”. The mission was successful: not only is she currently working on her first manuscript, she also knows a community of writers she can turn to for support when her full-time job gets too gruelling.
Grewal is not the only one whose career is separate from her passion. In fact, Parikh observes that a majority of participants who sign up to her retreats work corporate jobs and are either “aspiring to be published or moving towards full-time writing”.
In her 2013 essay collection This is the Story of a Happy Marriage, author Ann Patchett writes, “The tricky thing about being a writer, or about being any kind of artist, is that in addition to making art you also have to make a living.” The income disparity between creative jobs and more traditional corporate jobs is reflected best in the fact that most full-time writers in India cannot afford to attend writing retreats.
“Writers everywhere face this reality where the hours and effort we put in don’t always line up with what comes through in our bank accounts, especially compared to friends or peers who started out at the same time in corporate roles,” observes Dhvani Solani, former editor-in-chief of VICE India who currently freelances as a writer, editor, and content strategist. She adds, “In India, the gap feels sharper because media, publishing and most creative roles undervalue the actual intellectual and cultural labour that goes into them. I remember when I started out writing, major publications paid 50 paise to one rupee a word—and many of them continue to pay this measly sum today as well.”
It was only after Solani began to freelance with brands, conduct writing workshops and work outside of the media industry that money began to feel less tight. She is currently attending her first-ever writing workshop in London, which she admits would have required serious sacrifice back when she was a full-time writer. Like Solani, many young Indians turn to—or are pressured by families to find—corporate jobs that offer better pay and more stability, even if they may not be as creatively fulfilling. (Remember Farhan in 3 Idiots’ “Abba nahi maanenge” when his father expected him to study Engineering instead of pursuing wildlife photography?) Still, for many, creative passion eventually takes over.
Balaji Gopalan, 51, was a closeted writer of over 20 years before he decided to sign up for The Himalayan Writing Retreat. His full-time job as a consultant in the social sector meant that the retreat’s high cost was not a hindrance—and Gopalan concludes that the experience was worth more than what he paid for. “I have been writing for about 25 years—initially poetry, then fiction. The retreat helped me open up to mentors and peers and receive feedback to improve my craft,” he shares. Ashutosh Dixit, 32, who works as a marketing lead at a multinational engineering firm, has also been writing since he was 11. “I have been working on my next project, a historical novel, for the past four years,” confesses Dixit, “Being part of Siyahi’s writing retreat helped me understand some of the nuances of writing, research, and structural editing. It also helped me gain an insider perspective on how the publishing industry works and the role of agents and publishers in the whole process.” Grewal adds, “I used to see authors as almost celestial beings, but I learnt they are ordinary people who work extraordinarily hard to bring stories to life.”
For 43-year-old Anju Narayanan—a full-time writer who started out as a journalist with The Hindu in 2004—the opportunity to attend the Himalayan Writing Retreat’s residency came as a part of the HWR Khozem Merchant Fellowship, which covered all her expenses. If this hadn’t been the case, Narayan is unsure if she would have been able to attend, especially considering the added invisible costs of travel and time away from work. “The best part was the space it carved out for me,” she reminisces. “As a full-time working mother, my time is always spoken for. At Sathkol, the mountain air, forest and the warmth of the people created a cocoon of calm. And in that calm, the words finally had room to wander. The residency gave me two things I had been craving: discipline and community,” she recalls. Amal Mathew, 24, a full-time poetry editor at an Indian literary magazine, says he was able to attend the Aranyer Poetry Residency in Ladakh because it covered travel, boarding and meals as well as offered selected residents a stipend.
While retreats are usually self-funded and usually only last a few days, writers’ residencies provide creatives with long-term opportunities and, often, financial support. Rather than skill improvement, they provide upcoming as well as experienced writers with the time and space to work on specific projects. As Narayan puts it, a community that “understands the ache of chasing elusive word counts and the thrill of stumbling upon the perfect sentence” unquestionably encourages writers, yet writing is ultimately solitary work: “Residencies intensify that solitude. And in that very isolation, if you lean into that, lies the possibility of something transformative.”
Despite their frequent inaccessibility, writing retreats, for many, are a second chance at pursuing and nurturing a lost dream. Solani believes these opportunities can easily be made more accessible: “It can be as simple as sliding-scale pricing, shorter in-city versions or more scholarship spots. It acknowledges that writers don’t lack talent or discipline, just access.” Parikh agrees with this perspective: “Hosting my own retreats has taught me to treat people’s dreams gently. Almost no one understands how the writing and publishing industries work, so my aim is to offer a clearer view.” Her own hopes for attending a writing retreat remain low. “I keep dreaming of attending one, but writing is work for me,” she muses, “Maybe a yoga retreat, though?”
