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This is a short and quick 70-pager (at least in the version I read). It truly gives the impression of being an extension of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, with its tone and abundant use of quotes and anecdotes. The only real difference is that this work focuses more (and at times less) on writing. There are a few interesting points. Dillard has little inclination towards using brand names in writing. She seems to believe that it undermines the chances of achieving classic status when you incorporate things that are bound to become outdated. She also advocates a variation of the "you are what you eat" philosophy, stating that your writing is what you read (oh, how I wish!). If you aspire to be a novelist, you should read novels for the sheer pleasure of it. If you want to be a poet, you read poems because you can't resist. Otherwise, in my words, you're a poser, and for some reason, the writer pose is one that a certain type of person can't help but strike. I'll leave you with some Dillard-style advice: Write as if you were dying. At the same time, assume you write for an audience consisting solely of terminal patients. This is, after all, the case. What would you begin writing if you knew you would die soon? What could you say to a dying person that would not enrage by its triviality? Write about winter in the summer. Describe Norway as Ibsen did, from a desk in Italy; describe Dublin as James Joyce did, from a desk in Paris. Willa Cather wrote her prairie novels in New York City; Mark Twain wrote Huckleberry Finn in Hartford, Connecticut. Recently, scholars learned that Walt Whitman rarely left his room. Which is all fine and good, except that Mark Twain actually wrote HF in Elmira, NY, at his wife Livy's parents' place. They were extremely wealthy (coal being the source of the wealth), and had an outdoor cabin at the edge of a field overlooking the woods where Clemens escaped to write every day. Speaking of which, Dillard also insists that you avoid a view. Position your desk to face the walls or, if a window is nearby, let it overlook ugly roof lines. The view has to be mental, in other words, so go for it. Every day. And good luck. The life of a (true) artist is neither simple nor swift. Amen.