Having come to the conclusion that my Inner Artist was putting me down, I could only return the favor. Now, those who've studied psychology may object. Perhaps I was deluded. She thinks that the mind is like Shiva, creator and destroyer. Her glass is half full and half empty.
Creativity is a cosmic joke, picnic and panic.
Perhaps I've misunderstood Julia Cameron, but I've discovered something. I was trying to pursue my block consciously, with a program. I was like a gardener obsessed with the perfect lawn, digging out the burgeoning clumps of crab grass, dribbling herbicide on the upstart quack grass. Rooting out the blocks had become a point of honor, entirely independent of whether or not I had in mind something else to plant in their place. And here, all the time, was the answer.