A few weeks ago, I wrote a blog post about the “pep talks” portion of Maggie Smith’s Dear Writer: Pep Talks & Practical Advice for the Creative Life. (If you missed the post, click here to read it.)

This week, I’d like to share some more, because Dear Writer is one special book. In fact, I think Dear Writer is one of those books that won’t just sit on the shelf with other writing-related books. Dear Writer will be read and re-read. 

The book is organized into “ten essential elements”: attention, wonder, vision, surprise, play, vulnerability, restlessness, connection, tenacity, and hope. Within each section, readers will find craft-centered essays, writing prompts, and suggestions for related reading. 

But, I don’t think this book is only for writers. Or artists. I think the inspiring words found within this book, could really be applied to any area of life.

Here are some of the passages I marked with a sticky note. What do you think — only for writers or all humans?

“Although my work has changed over time, the act of writing feels no different to me than it did five or ten or twenty years ago. I’m still gathering, still collecting, still trying to make a garment from these scraps. The pleasure in the writing is the surprise — having no idea what you’re making as you’re making it.”

“When you try something new, whether it’s writing or baking or running, you’re in a period of apprenticeship to that art or activity. You’re a beginner, a novice, an amateur. But the root of amateur is the Latin amare, meaning ‘to love.’ An amateur does something for the love of it. And when you love something, you stick with it.
“When you stick with something out of love, you grow in it and with it. Each day, truly.”

“I don’t go to literature for comfort, as a writer or as a reader — I read and write to be changed, to see anew, to revise my own thinking. Actually, change is the opposite of comfort. But change invigorates. It stretches muscles you might not have known you had. It might hurt a little, that strain, but ultimately it strengthens. 
“I want to write and read pieces that lean toward wonder and rediscovery — toward questioning rather than knowing, toward authenticity and sincerity rather than irony and cynicism. Art is a site of wonder and discover — or rediscovery. Art is a place where we might learn what we think, not a place where we teach the reader what we’ve already processed.”

“The discovery doesn’t end when the piece is published. Sometimes readers will point things out that surprise you. Sometimes you’ll be reading a piece aloud in front of an audience, and something will strike you differently. The piece isn’t static, because you aren’t static. You change, your perspective changes, your experiences pile up, and you engage with the piece differently because of it.” 

“Creativity is artistic mischief. As writers and artists, our work is play. We come to the page — to the canvas, to the stage, to the studio — with trickster energy and a sense of daring. We’re working, but we’re delighting in the work.” 

“When we create, we choose the openness, the exposure, the risk — and that takes courage and nerve.
“There is no vulnerability without courage. They travel together, and I don’t think you can create without them both.” 

“I got ordained on the Internet for the same reasons I write poems. To marry two people is an act of hope, optimism, and connection. To write is an act of hope, optimism, and connection.”

“I’ve said for years that what every writer needs is a combination of tenacity — fierce, bulldog-like tenacity — and patience. The two go hand in hand. Tenacity is stick-to-it-ive-ness: part perseverance, part stubborn persistence, part fortitude, part endurance, part determination, part mettle (I love that word: mettle), and part drive.” 

“To make things that don’t exist yet — and don’t need to exist, because that is the very definition of art — and to send them out into the world is wildly, impractically, gorgeously hopeful.
“This is my way of saying there is no creativity without hope. Creativity is inherently hopeful, and the reverse is also true: Hope is inherently creative. Hope is imaginative; it allows you to envision what might be up ahead, even when you see nothing.”

“Remember: You are a writer if you write. You’re succeeding if you answer when the idea knocks — if you let it in, and pay attention to it, and see it through. If you don’t half-ass it. WHOLE-ASS IT. Your creative life deserves all of you. The whole you.”

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.