Julia Cameron - Write for Life: Creative Tools for Every Writer (A 6-Week Artists Way Program)

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To Julianna McCarthy, for her poetry, prayers, and passion

Joel Fotinos, muse and fuselighter, for his steady, grace-filled inspiration

Dr. Jeannette Aycock, for her persistent positivity

Jennifer Bassey, for her inspired faith

Tyler Beattie, for his enthusiasm and creativity

Domenica Frenzel, for her passion and prayers

Natalie Goldberg, for her powerful example

Gerard Hackett, for his thoughtful input

Gwen Hawkes, for her meticulous care

Nick Kapustinsky, for his intelligence and insight

Rena Keane, for her generous faith

Laura Leddy, for her graceful support

Emma Lively, for her inspiration and integrity

Jacob Nordby, for his prayers and prose

Scottie Pierce, for her daily practice

Susan Raihofer, for her discernment and daring

Ed Towle, for his humor and acuity

Write for Life is a six-week program for anyone working on a writing project, from the first-time writer to the seasoned one. This book is an invitation to begin, stick with, and finish your project. Consider it a companion on your journey from conception to completion. These pages compile the tips and tricks I myself have relied on to write more than forty booksincluding this one. It is my hope that this book will serve you as both a guide over the next six weeks, and a handbook to be returned to as you continue writing, well beyond the next six weeks. This book will get you in motion, keep you in motion, and serve as a reference as you finish your draft and move into the revision phase.

It is the act of writing that makes us writers. If you have a desire to write, that desire is worth listening toand acting upon. I have been a full-time writer for more than fifty years, writing books, poetry, music, plays, movies, and novels. This is my love letter to writing, and to writers, sharing the tools I have usedand that anyone can useto write for life.

There are several basic tools that serve as a bedrock for productive writing. With these tools in place, it is possible to set the stage for longevity as a writer. This week, you will prime the pumpreadying yourself for the long-term commitment between writer and writing project. By committing to these tools and examining your approach to your writing, you will set in motion a healthy, sustainable process that will carry you through the next six weeksand beyond.

I love to write. Im seventy-three years old, and I have been writing full-time since I was eighteen. Thats fifty-five yearsa long-running romance.

I love to write. Pen to the page, I find clarity and order.

I love to write, and so I do it daily. Right now I am sitting in my library, in my big leather writing chair, and I am, yes, writing. My little dog Lily, a Westie, sprawls at my feet. Good dog, Lily, I croon. But Lily is not a good dog. She is a very naughty dog, and chief among her misdeeds is a fondness for pens. Lily is a writers dog, I joke. I settle in to write and Lily settles in to steal my pen. I move my hand across the page, and whenever I stop, Lily pounces. She grabs my pen and scampers off, only to emerge minutes later with a disemboweled pen and a jaunty black mustache.

Lily, Im trying to write, I scold her, but the game of get the pen gives her great pleasure. She jumps on my lap, landing squarely on my notebook. She grabs my pen and scampers away. So now I am writing with pen number two. What I want to write about is writing itself.

Ill start with a flora and fauna report: my roses are blooming, scarlet and white. Songbirds carol from the junipers. Underfoot, quick-witted gray lizards scoot clear of the path. Lily darts in pursuit. It is only early May, but Santa Fe is enjoying an early summer. Todays day is hot and hazy. The mountains are blurred. Walking with Lily, I am quickly thirsty. When cars pass us on our dirt road, clouds of dust linger in the air. I pause and wait for the dust to settle before pressing on. Our walks are a daily discipline I set for myself. On the days when our walks are abortedtoo much wind or rainLily grows restless, pacing the Saltillo tiles of my adobe house. Lily, I tell her, well go tomorrow.

When nightfall comes, Lily settles down. Last nights three-quarter moon cleared the mountains as a silvery disc. Tonight the moon will be near full and its glow will grace the garden, an inviting light to write by, and so I write.

Writing, like walking, is a daily discipline. Like Lily, I grow restless if the routine is skipped. And so now I take pen to page, writing the details of my day, knowing that writing leads to writing. For six months now, I have been between books. Officially not writing, except for my Morning Pages. I have found myself writing cards and letters to my far-flung friends. Inspired by my example, many of them have written me back, our cards crossing in the mail.

We live so far apart, my friend Jennifer had taken to moaning. I carefully selected the cards I sent to herphotographic images of New Mexico winging their way to Florida. I sent a picture of our cathedral, of a ristraa string of red chili peppers, of a cactus flower in bloom. Jennifer would be delighted by the photos and my terse, card-sized notes. She no longer complains of our separation. The written word and pictures soothe her psyche as no amount of telephone chat can.

Sitting at my dining room table, I write out my notecards. I am provoked to write with great specificity. A card with roses to Laura finds me reporting on my own roses. A card with an owl, and I am telling my mentor, poet Julianna McCarthy, how very much I appreciate her wisdom. My daughter, Domenica, a horse lover, received a card of ponies and a note inquiring her progress with the young horse she is schooling. Each note tells the recipient they are cherished. I have taken the time to write. Out at a cafe, I enjoy a soy chai latte. I write to my colleague Emma Lively, knowing her preference for a fancy cappuccino.

I got your card, Laura reports a quick three days later. Her card features rambling rosestall like Laura herself. It was beautiful, she continues. Seated again at my dining room table, I send her a card of delphiniums. I remember that she likes blue.

You are beloved, our cards say, and seeing is believing. We hoard our handwritten notes. My daughter reports her cards are strung on yarn, gracing her bookshelf. Theyre so happy, she says.

And writing is happy. A potent mood changer, writing tutors us in joy. Putting pen to page, we cherish our lives. We matter, our writing declares. Taking the time and effort to describe our moods, we find those moods lightening. Paying attention, we soothe the anxious part of ourselves that wonders, What about me? No longer orphans, we are beloved, and writing to our friend tells them they are beloved. Writing rights things between us. The distances common to modern life are diminished. We close the gap of good intentions.

Writing is the only thing that when I do it, I dont feel I should be doing something else.