I remember being skeptical years ago when Cameron’s “The Artist’s Way” was recommended to me, feeling strongly the best way to improve as a writer was not to read a book about writing, but to write. I planned to skim it quickly and return it to the library. No money invested. Low expectations, me.
I was wrong. I enjoyed an entire summer working through it, doing the exercises, thinking and writing in a new way. It was wonderful.
I received my copy of “Right to Write” – the current selection – on Friday and dove in. I had no idea where the first exercise might take me, but I sat at my grandmother’s claw foot table and before I knew it was on a wild journey, imagining the conversations that might have occurred at it over the decades, connecting them with my seemingly pressing thoughts of the moment. I wrote furiously fast, filling three sheets in 20-25 minutes.
The scratch of pen-on-paper is not as common these days as the tapping of keys, so the sound of it caught my attention. Wally’s as well.
“You were really going to town there,” he said later.
I was, but the town was 500 miles from here. When I returned, I felt like I’d been on vacation. Fun! And very freeing.