My mother and I do not always agree about what makes a good book. She couldn't finish The Time Traveler's Wife; I couldn't finish Goldie Hawn's autobiography.
It was on her recommendation that I read Julia Cameron's memoir. It was slightly better than Goldie's. I did take the time to finish reading it, though I still get the two confused: who had a relationship with Scorsese? who witnessed one of her closest friends being hit by a car? The most interesting part of Cameron's book was when she wrote about the development of her program for writers, The Artist's Way. I was fascinated by the rigor of it, and the idea that if you just keep writing, a little bit every day, you will find you have something to say.
Lately, I have not felt that I had much to say, but I did not realize I missed writing until this weekend. Thing One was working on a school assignment. She had pulled a plot idea, a character and a setting out of a bag and had to make a story with them. Watching her writing in her little composition book, her hair tucked behind her ears and her pencil tapping her forehead, I thought "Hey, remember when you enjoyed writing? Remember when you would rewrite a sentence endlessly in your mind before sitting down to put your ideas on paper?"
Coincidentally (or not) this was also the weekend I received an e-mail from Karen Beth asking if I would be interested in taking part in a support/discussion group focused on The Artist's Way. We will read the book and then work through the workbook together, sharing our experiences on a blog. So, why not? I am going to give it a go and I will share my thoughts here.
And, proud mama that I am, I have to share the first couple of sentences of Thing One's story.
Hello, Reader, I'm finally talking again! I know you're surprised, but let me tell you the story.
Aren't you on the edge of your seat?!