Yesterday a coyote shadow crossed the trail. Chester, my big white dog, growled and I stooped to grab a fist-sized rock. At home this morning, slight breeze rustled the wind chime.

This year fall it feels odd because, for the first time in more than a decade, I’m not teaching. I wonder how I’ll pace my writing.

Some writers insist the only discipline is a daily practice. I cannot doubt the value of this. But Terry Tempest Williams, one of my hero writers, opens my mind to a different possibility:

I have a sequence to my creative life. In spring and fall, I am above ground and commit to community. In the summer, I’m outside. It is a time for family. And in the winter, I am underground. Home. This is when I do my work as a writer–in hibernation. I write with the bears.
From: Terry Tempest Williams Interview. The Progressive.

My own practice looks different from the writers who insist you must write every day, you must produce, you must train the brain to perform on demand.

I write with moon and coyotes and silence. I write in all seasons but there are weeks when I don’t write at all. I like to write with humans.

To keep myself accountable this fall, I’ve decided to take a class. One of my own: Composing Self. I’ve taught it many times and if I’m any good at this teaching thing, I should learn quite a bit.

Do you want to take this course with me?

If you’re intrigued with the prospect of having someone curate a reading list for you, and create regular writing prompts, check out the details on the page: COMPOSING SELF, Fall 2018

School begins Monday, October 1, 2018 and ends Friday, December 7.
There’s a week off for the Thanksgiving holiday.

What’s the cost?
What do you think I’m worth? Pay me what seems fair when the class is over.

If you want a jumpstart to your writing life, to join our fall community of writers for a short 10-week class, send me a note using the contact form.