We all get anxious sometimes. But for some of us, anxiety can be intense or pervasive. I’ve been coming to terms lately with the role that anxiety plays in my life. It sounds great to be a relaxed person who doesn’t worry about much of anything…and these people exist, but I’m not one of them.
Nor is cartoonist Maureen “Marzi” Wilson. Wilson uses the handle of “Introvert Doodles” online and has published a number of graphic books about introversion. Her “introvert dream house” drawing made the rounds on social media a while ago, and I was ready to move in. Too bad it wasn’t real and affordable, right?
She begins her book with a disclaimer: “FYI: This book will not ‘cure’ you.” Instead, it offers solace to the anxious by reassuring us that we’re not alone.
It’s full of simple, colorful cartoons as adorable as they are relatable. It’s an autobiographical book, with the little blonde, pink-cheeked Marzi doodle featuring throughout.
The book is broken thematically into parts, touching on themes such as social anxiety, responsibilities, and recognizing the need for support.
Marzi’s cartoons are often hilarious. One page features a series of 9 faces illustrating: “How anxious are you today?”, from a smiling “doing good” to 8’s “complete meltdown” to 9’s x-eyed, tongue-lolling-out “I’m literally dead.” Another shows Marzi deciding to make a to-do list and then getting buried in a pile of yellow paper.
Some sections are heavier on the text, like a page of panels labeled “What anxiety feels like.” I loved this descriptive bit: “Being inside of a kaleidoscope. The world is too bright, and everything keeps changing. As soon as I figure out the pattern, it shifts.”
I enjoyed the “Anxiety Bingo” card:
Some of these symptoms are familiar, such as “Awkward st-st-stuttering” and “Cannot adult today”. And I love how she marked the “Free” space, instead, as “Never feeling free”!
There were many times throughout this reading experience when I felt seen. Only being ready to speak up when the conversation has moved on? Travel anxiety? Comparing my weaknesses to other people’s strengths? Check! And there were some great pages that were less relatable to me but will ring a bell with others, such as worst-case-scenario thoughts about hiking up a mountain, only to run into a volcanic eruption at the top!
The book covers a lot of ground with humor and empathy, insisting on the need to be gentle with ourselves when things are tough inside our brains. I enjoyed the self-care ideas sprinkled throughout, such as the concept of making different to-do lists for good days, when we have the energy to work on our goals, and hard days, when we’re doing great if we make it out of bed.
Sometimes the world is too much. Sometimes our brains are too much. Kind of Coping is a soothing read for those times.
Laura Keating, a fellow student from the University of New Brunswick’s Renaissance College program, is both a lovely person and a stellar writer. I read some of her work during our student days, and both of us have since been doing our best in the literary trenches. She’s carved out a niche and a name for herself in horror, and her debut novella, Agony’s Lodestone, came out in April. I couldn’t have been more excited to read it, and the book more than delivered on its premise.
To quote the publisher’s description:
Laura Keating‘s debut novella, AGONY’S LODESTONE, wraps you in its Weird, cold embrace, blending elements of Found Footage horror, fraught family drama, and a creepy-ass Canadian wilderness where time and space just won’t sit still.
-Tenebrous Press
Like me, Keating is from Atlantic Canada – more specifically, she hails from St. Andrews, New Brunswick. The region’s landscape plays a key feature in her haunting novella, with New Brunswick’s renowned “highest tides in the world” echoing through the caves in Cannon Park with a sound like cannon fire. The uncanny setting adds just the right amount of creepiness to the narrative. More on this later.
Agony’s Lodestone begins with a not entirely welcome sibling reunion. Survivalist loner Aggie has been toughing it on her own since the disappearance of her older sister, Joanne, a star swimmer. Her younger brother, Bailey, has capitalized on this disappearance with a flashy social media presence and a TV show seeking to solve its mystery. Their older brother, Alex, has devoted himself to raising a family. The three remaining siblings are all obviously grieving in their own ways, and their coping techniques rub against each other uncomfortably.
Bailey barges back into his siblings’ lives with a revelation: he’s found a videotape of Joanne. The VHS comes from security footage filmed at Cannon Park on the day Joanne left to walk their dog. The dog returned; the sister didn’t. On the tape, Joanne appears to flicker in and out of existence. And upon repeated viewing, the tape changes in terrifying ways.
The siblings, of course, must go to the park to see if they can uncover the truth behind their sister’s disappearance. Not one of them will emerge unscathed.
Keating crafts both character and setting with a deft touch. The siblings’ wounds feel fresh, and the New Brunswick wilderness is portrayed in unnerving detail, from the booming of unseen waves to the snapping of wood. The three characters find themselves trapped in the same uncanny reality that took their sister from them years ago, a place where time and space repeat themselves. They must use their wits to navigate this landscape that is never fully explained. The novella never loses sight of its emotional core, as much of the time, the siblings’ bruised hearts make their decisions for them. Creepy illustrations accentuate the story.
I’m looking forward to Laura Keating’s next book. For now, Agony’s Lodestone comes highly recommended!
“I don’t want to be an offering, she thought with a new and sharp urgency. I never have, nor a prayer, either. I will be a knife in the dark or nothing, no matter the cost.”
What would you do if a god killed your sister? For Anya Astraea, the answer is clear: set out to murder him in retaliation.
I’ve enjoyed Laura E. Weymouth’s books since I read the first one, a unique portal fantasy called The Light Between Worlds. Weymouth writes historical fantasy for young adults. Her debut novel is a poignant take on Narnia and the devastating emotional consequences of growing up in another world, then being sent back to this one.
She has four books out now. Her latest is A Consuming Fire, and she was kind enough to share an ARC with me.
Reader, I loved it. There’s a consistent theme of anger across her last two novels. Women’s anger. Righteous anger. The anger of people who are overlooked, underestimated, and trampled underfoot by oppressive structures and figures who hold excess power. The anger of the small in a big world who stand up one day and declare, “Enough.”
In A Consuming Fire, a town called Weatherell is expected to periodically send a girl as a living sacrifice to appease a hostile god. These “Weatherell girls,” as they are called, must offer up what the mountain god demands, whether it’s a valued body part or a core personality trait. Protagonist Anya is intimately familiar with the lives of these sacrificial women: her mother was one of them, giving up her hands, and now her bold and adventurous twin sister, Ilva, is determined to make the journey up the mountain.
Ilva returns from the mountaintop drained of life force, and Anya watches her die. Another sacrifice is needed. But Ilva has made one last request of her sister: “Don’t let anyone else go.” And Anya, who’s long been incensed at the injustice of the system, is determined to follow that request. She sets off toward the mountain, not to offer herself to the god but to kill him.
Along the way, Anya falls in with a changeling thief and a group of others, including charming wanderers and a lovable dog, while playing a cat-and-mouse game with religious officials called the Elect who want to use her for their own ends. Everyone is hiding secrets of their own that, when revealed, will expand Anya’s understanding of her world. Ilva’s ghost remains a frequent visitor, urging her on and reminding her of her mission’s stakes. If she fails, countless girls will suffer; if she succeeds, she might spare others from suffering as her mother and sister did ever again.
A Consuming Fire carries a foreboding undertone, with deft touches such as bone charms made from dead Weatherell girls adding to the atmosphere and sense that this world is askew. Psychological insight blends with lyrical phrasing and keenly felt emotion throughout.
There are religious themes and features in this book that won’t be for everyone. After all, it is not set in a fantasy world but in an altered variant of the historical UK. But if you enjoy or don’t mind those aspects, you’ll find a lot to appreciate in the novel when it comes to the nature of power and agency.
Come join Anya on her vengeful climb up the mountain and witness how powerful a woman wronged can become!
I used to think I had limited energy for writing, and partly for this reason, I avoided day jobs that directly involved writing. I taught writing, edited, and on the side, I wrote and published. Then I started a blog for an editing job that focused on guiding authors through the writing process, and I enjoyed it. It was one of the most fun things I’d ever done at work.
This year, I accepted a job that combines writing and editing. A lot of the work is editing heavy, but I’m also writing content for scripts, blog posts, news roundups, and other forms of online learning about workplace performance.
So, what’s it like writing for a day job while continuing to work on personal writing projects on my own time? (Yes, I hope many of these will go on to get published, but right now they are self-motivated rather than client focused.) So far, it doesn’t match my prior anxieties at all.
Part of this is compartmentalization. I write about work stuff at work, in formats that suit the content we are producing and what clients need. I write “my stuff” outside of work, and give myself free reign to delve into personal obsessions, neuroses, and experiments. What I create on my own time bears little resemblance to what I write on the clock, so it’s easy to differentiate and get into the appropriate mode for each project.
This shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it’s nice to be creative at work. Especially since writing is only part of the job and deadlines are set at a reasonable pace (it might be different if I were constantly churning out content), I catch myself getting flashes of energy from the workplace writing I do. My brain gets to stretch and think. I’ve tried new formats and engaged with new ideas. I get to make things, not just evaluate and fix them up.
I also enjoy having colleagues who share my creative interests. Jonathan Hancock, one of the other in-house writers, has published several books about memory. Last month, our coworker Alice Gledhill interviewed both of us about what it’s like to be a published author. The questions were fun to answer, and you can read the interview here.
Outside of the structure of work, I continue to write my monthly blog posts (and the years of doing these have been good preparation for the type of writing I’m doing at my job), to finish the occasional short piece (like this book review), and to make progress on my current novel manuscript at a faster rate than I did before this job. My short story collection Dream Signs had a lovely review, and my YA novel is progressing toward the ARC stage.
In short, it feels very different to work on my own projects and on work projects, but the two of them use overlapping skills. In a way, each of them is practice for the other. Maintaining boundaries between the two is also important, and you might find the same for yourself if you write for a day job and in your off hours. I tap into different ways of thinking and focus on the different goals and aims of the type of writing I’m doing at the moment.
If you love writing creatively but are afraid of using up your creative energy at a day job, I’d encourage you to try out writing work if you’re curious about exploring it. Your wordsmithing abilities and creative energy may not be as finite as you thought!
Looking for some queer, feminist horror? The Gold Persimmon is a new novel full of lush, surreal hotels, precise language, and chilling threats that haunt the characters gradually.
Two stories cross paths in this book. The first, a third-person framing narrative that starts and ends the book, focuses on a young woman named Clytemnestra who holds a dead-end job at a luxury hotel called The Gold Persimmon. It’s a rule-bound environment that ensures privacy and discretion. Clients go there to grieve, and one has recently committed a dramatic suicide. While the troubled parents she lives with disapprove of her job, Cly views the hotel as a refuge, “a precisely ordered world of musts and musn’ts.”
This order is threatened when Cly begins an affair with an older client named Edith. Revelations pile up to reveal that there’s more to Edith’s story than what’s apparent on the surface.
Once things between Cly and Edith come to a head, the first story gives way to the second, featuring a nonbinary first-person narrator named Jaime. Their life circumstances aren’t too different from Cly’s: they’re a young, aspiring writer interviewing for a job at a sex hotel when a dangerous fog envelops the city.
With the outside world under threat, Jaime is trapped inside the hotel with six other people, not all of whom are trustworthy. Gender, sexuality, and power intertwine as the characters form alliances, keep secrets and weave in and out of rooms, trying to survive. Fans of closed-environment horror will appreciate the setting, with its claustrophobia and absurdity (characters hide out in dryers and stumble into dildo-themed hotel rooms), and the tense narrative pace.
The twin narratives are equally surreal, meeting reality at a dark remove that’s just a little off-kilter. The book’s blurb states that they are set in parallel realities, but the narrative does not clearly define how they intersect. Throughout both, dreams intrude on waking life. Physical attacks occur and it isn’t initially clear what or who is attacking. At one point, Jaime brainstorms a story idea which resembles the setting of Cly’s story, and Cly’s own narrative culminates in a haunting twist.
Merbaum’s language is masterful. Not a word seems out of place. The haunting and beautiful descriptions resonate well after the book ends. Pick up The Gold Persimmon if you’re in the mood for something uncanny and thoughtful.
Happy Pride Month! This June, I’d like to acknowledge and celebrate a book written by one of my favorite YA authors, Alice Oseman. Loveless is the story of Georgia, a relatable college student who is obsessed with the idea of romance and an avid fan of fictional relationships, yet she has never had a crush. She begins school seeking her own love story, only to discover that she may be aromantic and asexual, and that much love is present in her life in unexpected forms. It’s the first aro/ace coming out story I’ve read, and one of the first published. It’s also the well-deserved winner of the YA Book Prize.
I was anticipating this book before it came out (pun intended as it’s a coming out story. I know, I’m so funny. :P). I don’t identify as ace or aro. However, learning about asexuality was important for me as a way of recognizing and acknowledging instances where my culture expected attraction or interest and there was simply nothing there. Who and what we desire and say “yes” to is important knowledge about ourselves. The knowledge of our “nos” is equally important.
Last year for pride month, I wrote and shared with the Attic Owl Reading Series a poem about recognizing our “nos” in anticipation of Loveless’s publication. I’m delighted to say that the book surpassed my expectations. It’s a celebration of different forms of relationships, with characters that feel alive. It’s got great jokes, a Shakespeare society, and pool noodle fights. Check it out if you have the chance!
Thank you, Alice Oseman, for sharing this honest and affecting story with the world.
My January blog posts attest to my fascination with New Year’s resolutions, the goals and intentions that some of us set each year in the hope of making the coming year (or ourselves) better. After the coronavirus pandemic dashed many of our plans for 2020, I wonder how many of us will make resolutions this year. Maybe some of us will focus on taking care of ourselves and each other during this difficult time, or on just being ourselves. But for those who share my perverse fascination with goal setting and change, I found a book this year that offered me some valuable perspective.
I first encountered Gretchen Rubin’s Four Tendencies framework years ago, took her quiz online, and promptly forgot about it. Then, during England’s second lockdown this year, a mention of the book prompted me to look it up again. I was struggling with some changes I wanted to make in my new, working-from-home life, but I wasn’t making them. I didn’t know how. I asked myself, not for the first time, “Why can’t I change? Why can’t I get myself to do the things I know I should do? Why do I let myself down?”
Enter Gretchen Rubin, who has written books on happiness and habit formation, and maintains a popular happiness-focused podcast. She created the Four Tendencies framework after observing differences in how people respond to expectations. One of her friends was able to run with a track team but not by herself, for example.
The Four Tendenciesbook posits two different types of expectations: inner expectations, or the goals and standards we have for ourselves, and outer expectations, or the things that other people and external systems expect us to do. Rubin found that people respond to these different expectations in four different, and predictable, ways.
The people she calls Upholders meet both inner and outer expectations. Questioners meet inner expectations and question outer expectations, choosing to do what others expect only when it makes sense to them. Obligers (like her friend who wanted to go running) meet outer expectations but not inner expectations, while Rebels resist both sets of expectations. There’s a lot more detail about how these four categories work in the book, as well as on Rubin’s website.
Rubin’s book offers thorough chapters about what each tendency means and how it works, along with chapters on dealing with each tendency. Like books on the Enneagram, the personality system I’ve been using for over a decade, it can be read as a self-help book, and/or used to understand how to work with other people. Medical personnel, for instance, have used her work to motivate people with different tendencies to follow their recommendations.
Helpfully, the book begins with a quiz for identifying your tendency. From there, if you’re an Upholder, you’ll discover ways to manage “tightening up” and learn how following rules can paradoxically bring freedom. If you’re a Questioner, you’ll find tips for overcoming analysis paralysis and finding reasons for doing those irrational things you need to do. If you’re an Obliger, you’ll learn about how outer accountability is key for you – and how to build it into different areas of your life to do the things that you want to do, rather than burning yourself out by doing what others want. And if you’re a Rebel, like me, you’ll learn about motivating yourself by following personal desires and identity, and how to cultivate a sense of freedom in meeting goals rather than obligation.
I love how the Four Tendencies is a practical and focused framework for change. The book offers strategies that work with our “autopilot settings,” and thus it might be called ego supportive. Yes, we can all be more mindful and present, but the book’s suggestions don’t require that. It meets us where we are and gives us how-to’s for accomplishing what we want to accomplish.
As useful as the Enneagram has been for me, it’s a descriptor, not a toolkit. It suggests that as someone whose personality follows the Type Four “Individualist” pattern, I benefit from bringing discipline and structure into my life, but it doesn’t give any nuts and bolts about how to create structure, or how to get myself to follow it. The Four Tendencies actually gave me some of those nuts and bolts.
When it comes to change management, different people have different needs. I’ve spent a lot of time hoping to find a perfect source of accountability to get me to act differently, so it’s a relief to learn that accountability isn’t an effective strategy for me – it just feels like pressure, which I then resist. I’m equally recalcitrant with myself, declaring that I’m going to do something while an internal voice intones “Yeah, yeah, I’m not gonna.” Since reading this book, I’ve focused on taking power back into my own hands. Rubin writes, “Rebels can do anything they want to do.” The key for me is to focus on wanting rather than having to. When a sense of determination drives me, I know that I’m going to get that thing done. When I hear “Oh, yeah, yeah, sure,” I either let myself off the hook or dig deeper until I find that sense of determination.
2020 brought a lot of events we had no control over, and 2021 is looking to unfold in much the same vein. If you’re looking for a book about making changes that are within your control, The Four Tendencies is a good one.
In 2019, I read a lot, partly thanks to gift cards that let me buy harder-to-access books I’d been wanting to read for years. I’d thought that in 2020 I’d spend less time reading and more time doing things. Then March happened.
The gist of it is, lockdown left me with a lot of reading time, and several authors generously offered their works for free. My TBR pile has only gotten longer. It’s been fascinating to get acquainted with authors I wasn’t familiar with and to read things I wouldn’t otherwise have accessed. Here are a few unexpected book finds of 2020. I hope you find them as comforting and fun as I did.
The Murmur of Bees by Sofía Segovia (trans. Simon Bruni): As COVID-19 made its presence known in Italy, I began a novel that turned out to chronicle the Spanish flu. A Mexican family takes in a disabled child who has a close relationship with a swarm of bees, and a compelling magical realist tale unfolds from there. The parallels between the pandemic I was reading about and the one whose impact I began to experience simultaneously were both unnerving and comforting.
Mr. Hotshot CEO by Jackie Lau: I’d heard good things about Jackie Lau’s Chinese-Canadian rom coms set in Toronto, and jumped at the chance to read one offered for free at the time. A young, workaholic CEO’s nosy family enforces a vacation, and he hires a woman he sees at a coffee shop to teach him how to enjoy himself. This is foodie fluff at its most enjoyable. I swear, you will want to eat (or bake) every meal and treat in the book. It also has excellent “own voices” depression representation.
The Perilous Life of Jade Yeo by Zen Cho: Zen Cho is an elegant writer, and her historical novella is still free, so read it if you can! In the 1920s, a Malaysian writer in London writes a scathing book review – and attracts the author’s attention. This slim read is packed with curiosity, romance, scandal, and a delightful epistolary voice.
Noodle Trails by Eileen Kay: A travel memoir about Thailand by a Scottish writer. Following a divorce, Eileen Kay retreats to Thailand, home of the suppliers of her now-faltering fair trade import business. This true story of a woman getting back on her feet in rough times is witty, joyful, and a lot of fun.
Three’s a Crowd and Other Family Stories by Kate Blackadder: Sweet and entertaining, these are traditional family stories with a twist. In this Scottish writer’s short fiction collection, you’ll meet funky grandparents, refurbished bikes, and Ceilidh bands. This was great for those days when I had a short attention span, as I could read one story at a time.
Winnie and Wilbur Stay at Home by Valerie Thomas and Korky Paul: A timely (at the time) free picture book, and part of a popular series about a witch and her cat. At first, neither are thrilled about having to self-isolate, but with a little magical help, they find things to do. At the end, there are links to resources, including yoga and recipes.
Shady Hollow by Juneau Black: Given the popularity of Animal Crossing, maybe you, like me, would be interested in reading a murder mystery set in a charming town of talking animals? Intrepid reporter Vera Vixen takes it upon herself to track down the murderer of the resident swamp toad. This cozy mystery is well executed and extremely fun.
What have you been reading for fun in 2020? Have your tastes changed? Have you read anything unexpected?
Black lives matter. This should be something obvious, not something that needs to be said. But recent news shows just how deeply racial tensions run, how embedded they are in our institutions, and how much harm they cause.
In the interest of supporting Black creators, I’ve put together a list of books by Black authors that I read and enjoyed recently. This is by no means a ranking, definitive guide, or anything like that. Instead, it’s an idiosyncratic list of well-crafted, fun, and moving (mostly genre) books which often share perspectives and insights that may be new to white readers. Hopefully you’ll find something in there that you’ll enjoy reading from cover to cover!
YA and Middle Grade
Akata Witch / Akata Warrior by Nnedi Okorafor: This series has been called “the Nigerian Harry Potter”, and it delivers on magic and worldbuilding. 12-year-old Sunny, who’s albino and was born in the US, is treated as an outsider once her family returns to Nigeria. Then new friendships reveal her hidden magic and a whole new society of Leopard people. Expect adventure and an astonishing world, grounded in Nigerian myths and realities, that you will wish you could visit.
The Belles by Dhonielle Clayton: In a world where citizens are born grey, a select group of women has the power to magically alter people’s appearances, allowing them to conform to the latest fashions and be “beautiful”. Camilla is one of these young women, and she discovers that her world’s beauty culture has sinister roots. Expect beautiful prose and a thought-provoking contemplation of beauty standards.
The Poet X by Elizabeth Acevedo: Afro-Latina teen Xiaomara finds her voice as a slam poet in this moving novel told in verse. There are a lot of truths here about fraught family dynamics, first love, and more, and they are expressed with raw beauty. Get the tissues ready!
Fantasy and Science Fiction
A Taste of Honey by Kai Ashante Wilson: A gay fantasy romance that uses dialect in deft and unique ways. When Aqib’s country is visited by foreign soldiers, he meets Lucrio and encounters the ideas of a nation where same-sex relationships are accepted. A choice unfolds: does he stay with his familiar settings and beloved zookeeping responsibility, or does he leave with Lucrio into the unknown? This novella beautifully explores two parallel lives.
The Murders of Molly Southbourne by Tade Thompson: A gripping science fiction horror novella. Every time Molly bleeds, a copy of herself emerges, intent on killing her. She is taught to murder them in turn. It’s a strange, eerie book about threat and escape that I couldn’t put down.
Binti by Nnedi Okorafor: Mathematically gifted Binti is the first Himba person to be accepted to a university off-planet, but her space travel is disrupted by the alien Meduse, who the university has wronged. This is a highly inventive novella about building bridges between warring groups of people (including extraterrestrial people in this case).
Romance
A Princess in Theory / A Prince on Paper by Alyssa Cole: The Reluctant Royals series is beloved for good reason: it takes a critical eye to the tropes of royal romance while revelling in their best parts. In A Princess in Theory, an epidemiologist gets spam emails from an African prince she is betrothed to, only to discover that they’re real. A Prince on Paper is my favorite in the series, featuring a sensitive playboy hero and a heroine who is deeply kind. There are further books in the series, too, on my TBR list.
Let It Shine by Alyssa Cole: Two childhood friends, a Black “good girl” and a Jewish boxer, reunite and fight for civil rights in this sweet, impactful novella. The Civil Rights movement in the 1960s takes center stage as the main character finds her voice.
Fit by Rebekah Weatherspoon: Another short romance, for those who like their reads on the spicy side. A TV producer seeks out a personal trainer, who proposes an unconventional arrangement for getting her fit.
Nonfiction
Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body by Roxane Gay: This memoir does not present a triumphant narrative arc but rather a messy, complicated reckoning. Gay writes with honesty and sensitivity about the trauma of early sexual assault, her compulsion to eat in order to be safe, what it’s like to move through the world in a very large, “unruly” body, and learning to take care of her physical self. I found it moving while giving me a lot to consider and grapple with.
Five pelicans groom themselves in St. James’ Park, London, during one of my Artist Dates.
During the first year of my undergraduate studies, I encountered a book called The Artist’s Way. A classmate who’d completed a visual arts program told me about the volume and how his class had used it at art school. Julia Cameron’s book has sold over 3 million copies and inspired countless artists, but this was my first encounter with it. I was intrigued by my friend’s stories of how the book inspired an outpouring of productivity and gave him the courage to use masses of high-quality paint rather than being stingy. I wanted to check this book out myself.
I found a copy of The Artist’s Way in a used bookstore. One of my classes at the time involved a project in which we all found something we’d always wanted to do and did it. I’d always wanted to paint, and I used this book as inspiration. I started writing Morning Pages, following Cameron’s practice of writing three pages longhand every morning in which you vent, brainstorm, and babble. I went on Artist Dates, inspiring solo outings, though I no longer remember where I went.
I did Cameron’s exercises, listing activities I’d always wanted to do and “secret selves” who reflected aspects of my personality that I didn’t typically express. To be candid, I only made my way partway through the book, but by the end of the year, I had in fact learned to paint. I hung some of my pieces in my dorm room, and painting entered the repertoire of arts I practiced and believed myself capable of doing. I also tried out other art forms, writing a good song and a not-as-good-but-still-finished musical. The Artist’s Way, even imperfectly followed, was a wellspring of inspiration. Once the year ended, inspired and enlivened, I moved on.
Near the end of 2019, over a decade later, an intriguing call for submissions got me writing a fantasy short story on the commute to and from my editing job. I got started but alternated between chipping away at the story and sitting there with a muddled, unproductive brain. I wanted to keep up my momentum, to keep writing, so I found myself picking up a tool I hadn’t used in years: the Morning Pages.
On mornings when my brain wasn’t up to the task, I used my time on the London tube to ramble in my notebook about what was happening in my life. From there, spurred on by seeing a friend posting about The Artist’s Way on social media, I began to follow the book in earnest. My story coaxed me into taking a second walk down the Artist’s Way.
A lot has changed since my first half-finished use of Cameron’s tools. I’ve moved from the creatively nurturing nest that my university provided for me to the daily routine of a full-time job, moving in a circuitous path that’s included freelancing, multiple careers, and entrepreneurship. I’ve lived in three different countries. I’ve published a successful book and dozens of short pieces. Having come from a place of early success, I’ve also become very familiar with failure. I’ve been prolific at times, blocked at times, and overly reticent with submissions. The drive of creative inspiration has at many points given way to the need to get things done.
This need has given me a new perspective on The Artist’s Way. I’m discovering that it is, in fact, an ingenious organizational tool. The Morning Pages remind me of forgotten items to check off my to-do list and help me organize my creative projects. Sometimes bits of writing emerge from the pages, but more often than not they resemble vacuuming – getting the mind clean and ready for work. The Artist Dates have taken me on walks around the neighborhood where I work, enjoying the splendors of Buckingham Palace and St. James’ Park, becoming familiar with the birds and flowers there. For some, Artist Dates bring a welcome sense of adventure. For me, they’ve brought a deeper connection and grounding in my surroundings.
The first time I tried The Artist’s Way, I was much closer to being that “artist child” that Cameron wants her readers to reconnect with inside themselves. I was less familiar with the challenges of the marketplace and had largely received encouragement in my writing and creative pursuits. I’d experienced the sting of some failures, but not on the scale that adulthood would bring. With this context, the encouragement offered by The Artist’s Way has been much more powerful the second time around.
Engaging with the book’s exercises has not been easy. They’ve opened old wounds and questions about my future. However, the changes have been profound. I’d expected to discover an exotic array of new interests or begin engaging with new art forms the way I did last time. Instead, my inner voice piped up loud and clear that I want to write and need to fight for that desire.
I was reminded of being eight years old and imagining that I would someday write all the things I read – mystery novels, advertisements, nature magazines, newspapers, everything! I remembered submissions that got lost and wondered why I hadn’t followed up. I became determined to follow that voice urging me to write all kinds of things, write what’s fun, and not put limits on myself. It’s okay that I want to be focused right now, that I don’t want to crochet or make a podcast. It’s okay that I’m scared to fail over and over. I’m determined to listen to my inner voice and honor that eight-year-old’s dreams.
So, what’s changed in my life since beginning my second journey with The Artist’s Way? I’ve written a short story and several poems, begun a novella in a new genre, finished revising a manuscript and submitting it to my first round of agents, and embarked upon a “100 submissions a year” challenge. (I’m going for submissions rather than rejections because it’s a concrete goal within my control. One of these has already turned into an acceptance, and I’m certainly not sulking about it!)
I’ve taken the initiative to create a blog for authors at my job. I’ve come up with several ideas for potential writing projects. I’ve started learning about linguistics and spent a morning picking up a few phrases in Swahili. I’ve gotten back in touch with some old friends, reached out to my great-aunt about family recipes, and grown very familiar with the pelicans of St. James’ Park. Fear, realism, and cynicism tango with hope and the excitement of infinite possibilities. Here I stand, in the middle of the Artist’s Way, and this time I’m determined to make it to the end.
Have you tried The Artist’s Way? What was your experience like?
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