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   Julia Cameron, making change at 70.
   Julia Cameron, making change at 70.Credit...Ramsay de Give for The New
   York Times

Julia Cameron Wants You to Do Your Morning Pages

   With “The Artist’s Way,” Julia Cameron invented the way people renovate
   the creative soul.

   Julia Cameron, making change at 70.Credit...Ramsay de Give for The New
   York Times

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   [6]Penelope Green

   By [7]Penelope Green
     * Feb. 2, 2019

   SANTA FE, N.M. — On any given day, someone somewhere is likely leading
   an Artist’s Way group, gamely knocking back the exercises of “The
   Artist’s Way” book, the quasi-spiritual manual for “creative recovery,”
   as its author Julia Cameron puts it, that has been a lodestar to
   blocked writers and other artistic hopefuls for more than a quarter of
   a century. There have been Artist’s Way clusters in the Australian
   outback and the Panamanian jungle; in Brazil, Russia, the United
   Kingdom and Japan; and also, as a cursory scan of Artist’s Way Meetups
   reveals, in Des Moines and Toronto. It has been taught in prisons and
   sober communities, at spiritual retreats and New Age centers, from
   Esalen to Sedona, from the Omega Institute to the [8]Open Center, where
   Ms. Cameron will appear in late March, as she does most years.
   Adherents of “The Artist’s Way” include the authors Patricia Cornwell
   and Sarah Ban Breathnach. Pete Townshend, Alicia Keys and Helmut Newton
   have all noted its influence on their work.

   So has Tim Ferriss, the hyperactive productivity guru behind “The Four
   Hour Workweek,” though to save time he didn’t actually read the book,
   “which was recommended to me by many megaselling authors,” [9]he
   writes. He just did the “Morning Pages,” one of the book’s central
   exercises. It requires you write three pages, by hand, first thing in
   the morning, about whatever comes to mind. (Fortunes would seem to have
   been made on the journals printed to support this effort.) The book’s
   other main dictum is the “Artist’s Date” — two hours of alone time each
   week to be spent at a gallery, say, or any place where a new experience
   might be possible.

   Elizabeth Gilbert, who has “done” the book three times, said there
   would be no “Eat, Pray, Love,” without “The Artist’s Way.” Without it,
   there might be no [10]adult coloring books, no [11]journaling fever.
   “Creativity” would not have its own publishing niche or have become a
   ubiquitous buzzword — the “fat-free” of the self-help world — and
   business pundits would not deploy it as a specious organizing
   principle.
   Image

   The book’s enduring success — over 4 million copies have been sold
   since its publication in 1992 — have made its author, a shy
   Midwesterner who had a bit of early fame in the 1970s for practicing
   lively New Journalism at the Washington Post and Rolling Stone, among
   other publications, and for being married, briefly, to Martin Scorsese,
   with whom she has a daughter, Domenica — an unlikely celebrity. With
   its gentle affirmations, inspirational quotes, fill-in-the-blank lists
   and tasks — write yourself a thank-you letter, describe yourself at 80,
   for example — “The Artist’s Way” proposes an egalitarian view of
   creativity: Everyone’s got it.

   The book promises to free up that inner artist in 12 weeks. It’s a
   template that would seem to reflect the practices of 12-step programs,
   particularly its invocations to a higher power. But according to Ms.
   Cameron, who has been sober since she was 29, “12 weeks is how long it
   takes for people to cook.”

   Now 70, she lives in a spare adobe house in Santa Fe, overlooking an
   acre of scrub and the Sangre de Cristo mountain range. She moved a few
   years ago from Manhattan, following an exercise from her book to list
   25 things you love. As she recalled, “I wrote juniper, sage brush,
   chili, mountains and sky and I said, ‘This is not the Chrysler
   Building.’” On a recent snowy afternoon, Ms. Cameron, who has enormous
   blue eyes and a nimbus of blonde hair, admitted to the jitters before
   this interview. “I asked three friends to pray for me,” she said. “I
   also wrote a note to myself to be funny.”

   In the early 1970s, Ms. Cameron, who is the second oldest of seven
   children and grew up just north of Chicago, was making $67 a week
   working in the mail room of the Washington Post. At the same time, she
   was writing deft lifestyle pieces for the paper — like an East Coast
   Eve Babitz. “With a byline, no one knows you’re just a gofer,” she
   said.

   In her reporting, Ms. Cameron observed an epidemic of green nail polish
   and other “Cabaret”-inspired behaviors in Beltway bars, and slyly
   reviewed a new party drug, methaqualone. She was also, by her own
   admission, a blackout drunk. “I thought drinking was something you did
   and your friends told you about it later,” she said. “In retrospect, in
   cozy retrospect, I was in trouble from my first drink.”

   She met Mr. Scorsese on assignment for Oui magazine and fell hard for
   him. She did a bit of script-doctoring on “Taxi Driver,” and followed
   the director to Los Angeles. “I got pregnant on our wedding night,” she
   said. “Like a good Catholic girl.” When Mr. Scorsese took up with Liza
   Minnelli while all three were working on “New York, New York,” the
   marriage was done. (She recently made a painting depicting herself as a
   white horse and Mr. Scorsese as a lily. “I wanted to make a picture
   about me and Marty,” she said. “He was magical-seeming to me and when I
   look at it I think, ‘Oh, she’s fascinated, but she doesn’t
   understand.’”)

   Image Under the pines.
   Under the pines.Credit...Ramsay de Give for The New York Times

   In her memoir, “Floor Sample,” published in 2006, Ms. Cameron recounts
   the brutality of Hollywood, of her life there as a screenwriter and a
   drunk. Pauline Kael, she writes, described her as a “pornographic
   Victorian valentine, like a young Angela Lansbury.” Don’t marry her for
   tax reasons, Ms. Kael warns Mr. Scorsese. Andy Warhol, who escorts her
   to the premiere of “New York, New York,” inscribes her into his diary
   as a “lush.” A cocaine dealer soothes her — “You have a tiny little
   wife’s habit” — and a doctor shoos her away from his hospital when she
   asks for help, telling her she’s no alcoholic, just a “sensitive young
   woman.” She goes into labor in full makeup and a Chinese dressing gown,
   vowing to be “no trouble.”

   “I think it’s fair to say that drinking and drugs stopped looking like
   a path to success,” she said. “So I luckily stopped. I had a couple of
   sober friends and they said, ‘Try and let the higher power write
   through you.’ And I said, What if he doesn’t want to?’ They said, ‘Just
   try it.’”

   So she did. She wrote novels and screenplays. She wrote poems and
   musicals. She wasn’t always well-reviewed, but she took the knocks with
   typical grit, and she schooled others to do so as well. “I have
   unblocked poets, lawyers and painters,” she said. She taught her tools
   in living rooms and classrooms — “if someone was dumb enough to lend us
   one,” she said — and back in New York, at the Feminist Art Institute.
   Over the years, she refined her tools, typed them up, and sold Xeroxed
   copies in local bookstores for $20. It was her second husband, Mark
   Bryan, a writer, who needled her into making the pages into a proper
   book.

   The first printing was about 9,000 copies, said Joel Fotinos, formerly
   the publisher at Tarcher/Penguin, which published the book in 1992.
   There was concern that it wouldn’t sell. “Part of the reason,” Mr.
   Fotinos said, “was that this was a book that wasn’t like anything else.
   We didn’t know where to put it on the shelves — did it go in religion
   or self-help? Eventually there was a category called ‘creativity,’ and
   ‘The Artist’s Way’ launched it.” Now an editorial director at St.
   Martin’s Press, Mr. Fotinos said he is deluged with pitches from
   authors claiming they’ve written “the new Artist’s Way.”

   “But for Julia, creativity was a tool for survival,” he said. “It was
   literally her medicine and that’s why the book is so authentic, and
   resonates with so many people.”

   “I am my tool kits,” Ms. Cameron said.

   And, indeed, “The Artist’s Way” is stuffed with tools: worksheets to be
   filled with thoughts about money, childhood games, old hurts; wish
   lists and exercises, many of which seem exhaustive and exhausting —
   “Write down any resistance, angers and fears,” e.g. — and others that
   are more practical: “Take a 20 minutes walk,” “Mend any mending” and
   “repot any pinched and languishing plants.” It anticipates the work of
   the indefatigable [12]Gretchen Rubin, the happiness maven, if Ms. Rubin
   were a bit kinder but less Type-A.

   “When I teach, it’s like watching the lights come on,” said Ms.
   Cameron. “My students don’t get lectured to. I think they feel safe.
   Rather than try and fix themselves, they learn to accept themselves. I
   think my work makes people autonomous. I feel like people fall in love
   with themselves.”

   Anne Lamott, the inspirational writer and novelist, said that when she
   was teaching writing full-time, her own students swore by “The Artist’s
   Way.” “That exercise — three pages of automatic writing — was a
   sacrament for people,” Ms. Lamott wrote in a recent email. “They could
   plug into something bigger than the rat exercise wheel of self-loathing
   and grandiosity that every writer experiences: ‘This could very easily
   end up being an Oprah Book,’ or ‘Who do I think I’m fooling? I’m a
   subhuman blowhard.’”

   “She’s given you an assignment that is doable, and I think it’s kind of
   a cognitive centering device. Like scribbly meditation,” Ms. Lamott
   wrote. “It’s sort of like how manicurists put smooth pebbles in the
   warm soaking water, so your fingers have something to do, and you don’t
   climb the walls.”

   Image
   In the wild.Credit...Ramsay de Give for The New York Times

   Ms. Cameron continues to write her Morning Pages every day, even though
   she continues, as she said, to be grouchy upon awakening. She eats
   oatmeal at a local cafe and walks Lily, an eager white Westie. She
   reads no newspapers, or social media (perhaps the most grueling tenet
   of “The Artist’s Way” is a week of “reading deprivation”), though an
   assistant runs a Twitter and Instagram account on her behalf. She
   writes for hours, mostly musicals, collaborating with her daughter, a
   film director, and others.

   Ms. Cameron may be a veteran of the modern self-care movement but her
   life has not been all moonbeams and rainbows, and it shows. She was
   candid in conversation, if not quite at ease. “So I haven’t proven
   myself to be hilarious,” she said with a flash of dry humor, adding
   that even after so many years, she still gets stage-fright before
   beginning a workshop.

   She has written about her own internal critic, imagining a gay British
   interior designer she calls Nigel. “And nothing is ever good enough for
   Nigel,” she said. But she soldiers on.

   She will tell you that she has good boundaries. But like many
   successful women, she brushes off her achievements, attributing her
   unlooked-for wins to luck.

   “If you have to learn how to do a movie, you might learn from Martin
   Scorsese. If you have to learn about entrepreneurship, you might learn
   from Mark” — her second husband. “So I’m very lucky,” she said. “If I
   have a hard time blowing my own horn, I’ve been attracted to people who
   blew it for me.”

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