I’ve been trying to keep up with Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way, though my old, familiar guilt would tell you that I am not living up in a number of ways. Each chapter, or “week,” is filled with philosophy of how to bring out your inner artist, as well as tasks to help you get there. I have done the Morning Pages religiously, and while I have allowed myself too loose a definition for “artist’s dates,” I did take myself on one beautiful, solitary outing to a restaurant after a morning of writing a few weeks ago. Looking for inspiration that Thursday morning, I went to a bookstore and pulled out some poetry titles to get me in the right frame of mind. After I found one I fell in love with (which of course, I bought), it occurred to me that I could go to lunch and read it. The idea surprised me. I have taken myself out to lunch or dinner on very few occasions, but each time, the experience has felt transcendent. While at a restaurant, I can enjoy my food without sharing. (I’ve never been good at that.) I can listen to the conversations around me. There is absolutely no pressure or responsibility save paying the bill, and I leave invigorated by a highly sensory experience. At the French bistro with bright yellow walls and lace curtains, I ate part of a basket of fresh baguette with butter, a ham crepe with leeks and bechamel sauce, and ended the meal with a cappuccino. Here is what I wrote, in completely raw form, before my lunch arrived:
There are no pictures. Just listen.
The room is full of women.
One has been to France—goes every year, in fact,
and for some reason was at a conference in Montreal.
Another has a daughter at college for the summer.
The woman next to me is sighing, as though each turn of her cheek,
each lift of her straw, is exhausting.
I suspect she wants to talk.
I have been here once before. I remember
strawberry lemonade, seeds
falling to the bottom.
A warm berry dessert.
I have also been to France.
This cappuccino reminds me of those cafes,
everywhere, the warmth of a mug between my hands, the same wicker chairs.
It’s what A Moveable Feast
was all about.
Where is my copy
which I carried in my purse around Paris,
the seed of a boy sewn like a pocket inside of me?
This week, Cameron recommends reading deprivation. Some part of me knew it was coming. I have thought often of how I retreat into books so I don’t have to write or create my own worlds. The books are easy and inviting, and I have an imaginary librarian in my head writing big check-marks as I finish each one, even though I tend to forget the stories soon after. What it comes down to is that writing is terribly hard work. It forces us to face things, to imagine, to expend energy, to make realizations and have epiphanies that bring us, sometimes, to shaking. But I have kids who need me. But I have laundry to be done. But I have a living to make.
Excuses, excuses.
For a moment in the car today, I noticed that my familiar antsy reach for my phone at a stoplight was a problem. What did I used to do with these moments? I wondered. I would think, ponder, listen to music. I would come up with ideas, so many in fact that I longed for a tape-recorder to keep them all so I didn’t forget when I got to my destination. I had the wisdom to know that I couldn’t sit on an idea for too long without writing it down. If I waited, it would be lost. The day at the French bistro, I was in the moment, one idea leading to the next, none of my rational conscious self trying to pull me by the arm to emails or status updates. Because really, what did any of that matter? Nothing is really at stake if one removes herself from the distractions of Twitter and Facebook or junk emails. Maybe she will even end up replacing them with a phone call. Nothing is at stake when one confines herself to reading in a chair all afternoon, letting someone else’s characters take up space in her imagination until they obstruct her own.
So starting Monday (I have to give myself some time to prepare), I’m going to deprive myself of reading, my first true love. No fiction, no New Yorker articles, no blogs or email (eek!) for a week. (Luckily, I can still write on my own blog. Phew.) I’m going to have to pay a little more attention to those quiet moments when ideas surface.
Want to join me on the artist’s way? Read the first post.
Image: “french restaurant, italian coffee” by toastforbrekkie via Flickr using a Creative Commons license.
{ 9 comments… read them below or add one }
As you know, I’ve read this book and loved it, though admittedly I internally rebuked the section on not reading. I suppose I can see where she’s coming from, but I simply don’t believe that one can come without the other. I’m in a writing funk of my own, some is avoidance, some is exhaustion, but usually if I need to kick it up a notch reading something really good does it for me.
And no surprise, just like you I reach for my phone at lights and stop signs. I hate that about myself actually.
I’ve thought for a while that I too often read instead of write. When I’m home and I put the kids in bed for naps, I go to the couch and read until, usually, I fall asleep. I never feel good afterwards. I have wondered what I would be doing if I weren’t reading. I can try this now before classes start, and while I know it will be hard–reading is literally a compulsion for me–I am eager to see if it makes me more prolific. It’s good to have someone tell you what to do once in a while, even when it’s hard to hear. I kind of crave it.
What you wrote is beautiful.
But what I note – no doubt because of my own life & circumstances – is this:
But I have kids who need me. But I have laundry to be done. But I have a living to make.
Yes, they can be viewed as “excuses.” But they are also reasons. Legitimate reasons. They offer us experiences to draw upon as writers, and also drain us of the very energy and time that we need to write, and equally – to read – in order to be better writers.
You are exactly right. Thanks for the poignant reminder!
This is interesting.
I also ALWAYS pick up my phone at stop lights. I have gotten a little better the last few weeks. But it is very concentrated.
I like it when people find different ways to challenge themselves as you are doing. Breaking habits and routines are good for anyone. I like that you put a time limit on it though, because going cold turkey sometimes is hard. For example, you could have said, I wont read emails on my phone, or I wont read while kids are napping.
I was raised eating oatmeal…..with lots of butter, milk, and brown sugar. I tried to eat just plain oatmeal and couldn’t get through one bowl. And gave up for awhile. I have gradually changed….first I gave up butter, then milk; while adding first chopped nuts and now chopped fruit, and now only a smidgen of sugar. I have a new better habit now that doesn’t take the concentration or effort that not looking at my phone at red lights takes.
I always love hearing how others are changing and challenging themselves.
Who the heck is the stranger on my web site talking about oatmeal?
I am usually the type for more moderate changes, but this is only a week, which does not seem too extreme. Especially when I’m hungry for some break from my routine. And I don’t mind you talking about oatmeal! I wish I ate more of it.
I’m going through the Artists Way a second time (I didn’t complete it the first time) and I knew this was coming and I’m reading online about my reading deprivation week :-) I’m also doing the Game On Diet at the same time so lots of changes happening around the same time.
I think I will give up Facebook (did I really just write that?), and reading novels. I don’t read newspapers any way so that’s not an issue.
However I will still read for work – I can’t put my business on hold for a week.
Thanks for sharing your experiences of this challenge.
Karen.
Wow! I am getting worried for you. Too much deprivation for me leads to really bad moods. Maybe you can go easy on yourself. (In truth, diets put me in really bad moods, so I avoid them.)
Good luck!
Thanks for your concern.
I wish they had called the Game On Diet something else since everyone assumes the worst :-) I guess it’s the perception of what a diet is. This is a lifestyle change and not about deprivation at all. It makes sure that you get enough sleep, enough water to drink, lots of exercise and you control your portion size. I can get 100 calories of what I want every day and I even get a day off and a meal off once a week. This is the second time I’ve done it recently and I lose around 1kg (2.2lbs) a week. So I don’t feel deprived at all and I’m losing weight.
I’m finding that the morning pages at the same time helps since I can let out any frustrations etc. in the morning and then get on with my day.
And yes I read your email so my reading deprivation is not 100% :-)
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