How to Restart Your Creativity with Julia Cameron
23 May 2026 · 37 min
Julia Cameron, author of The Artist's Way, discusses her new book The Listening Path and how to restart creativity through morning pages, artist dates, and confronting your inner critic. She writes longhand with a Uni-ball 207 pen, then has her collaborator Emma Lively transcribe the work.
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This spring, we're revisiting one of the most inspiring conversations we've ever had—our episode with Julia Cameron. As the world begins to bloom again, Julia reminds us that creativity can too. In this conversation, she shares how listening, journaling, imperfect first drafts, and small daily rituals can reconnect us with ourselves and quiet the inner critic she calls Nigel. Whether you're feeling stuck, burnt out, or simply ready for a creative reset, this episode is a beautiful reminder that renewal often starts with paying attention.
I'm Guy Kawasaki, and this is Remarkable People. This episode's remarkable guest is none other than Julia Cameron. She is the author of The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Guide to Higher Creativity. Over 5 million copies of this book have been sold. That's about 4.8 million copies more than any single book of mine. The 25th anniversary of this book has over 3,000 ratings and they averaged 5 stars. You have no idea how hard it is to have that many ratings come out to 5 stars. I am in awe of this. Let me read one of her reviews. Quote, "I was turned onto this book in 1995 and it changed not only my life in powerful, profound, and exciting ways, but the lives of several of my family members and friends. It gave me a way in, into my own soul, my deeper voice, mind, purpose for living, and capacity for enjoying life." Sadhguru Doran. The New York Times calls her the Queen of Change. She's also known as the Godmother or High Priestess of Change. She has written over 40 books as well as screenplays, musicals, and plays. She attended Georgetown University before transferring to Fordham. She has written for the Washington Post and Rolling Stone. Her new book is The Listening Path: The Creative Art of Attention. It was released yesterday. We cover a lot of this book in our interview. To get the most out of this episode, you have to know this in advance. Nigel is the name she has given to the self-doubt and negativism inside her. Lily is her dog. You'll enjoy our discussion of the bondage of self-centeredness, the Uni-ball 207, and why perfectionism is for second and third drafts. I'm Guy Kawasaki, and now here is Julia Cameron.
Thank you very much for doing this. I love your glasses. Oh, thank you. I read that there's a special store where you are that has glasses like that? Yes.
My girlfriend Scotty has many pairs of glasses and I went and I tried on all of them and I found these and I thought, "I love these." How is Nigel these days? Nigel is alive and well and critical. And he starts me out on a podcast like this Terrified.
I think we should put Nigel back in the box because there is no reason to be terrified by me. My podcast is called Remarkable People, so I only want remarkable people to look remarkable. As I was reading the manuscript of your latest book, very early on I thought to myself, she would love Brenda Ueland. And then you mentioned Brenda Ueland. Yeah, Brenda Ueland changed my life. That's wonderful.
She was a great inspiration to me. She said, "Perhaps we are always talked to by God and his messengers.
We're an incandescent power." And I thought, "Oh, I love that." My wife gave me her book, If You Want to Write, and at the time I had not written my first book. And it really took the Nigel out of me and enabled me to write a book. How do you want ideally people to read your book?
I'd like them to read the first 3 tools, which are Artist's Way tools that have been proved over the years to be effective. Uh, and I want people to get grounded in Art of Sway Tools, and then launch into the 6 weeks. And I found over teaching that 6 weeks was a long enough time for listening because people very quickly pick up the tools and become acute listeners. And so I didn't feel we needed to do 12 weeks. I felt, no, there are layers enough for 6. So I became 6. But it comes out of experience, Guy. When I teach, I sort of take the temperature of the class that I'm teaching, and I find myself feeling, oh, they're cooked. And the listening path was cooked at 6 weeks instead of 12.
Do you think that the audio version of your book is a better way to learn what you have to say versus reading it?
That's an interesting question. I think the audio is calming, and I think people take in information through listening. So it's sort of a, an example of the of the premise of the book, Do Listen. But I find that I wrote the book hoping for readers to walk alongside me as we went through the layers. So I would hope to have people read the first 3 tools, start practicing them, and then move a week at a time into the remaining layers.
I am very curious, why is there so much about Lily? Is there a deep metaphor or meaning there that you use Lily as a mechanism?
Now, Lily, we should explain to everybody, is my little white Westie dog, and we live together up on top of a mountain And Lily is my constant companion, and I'm worried that I'm turning into a dotty old lady. I'm 72, almost 73, and that I'm someone who, dotty old lady-like, talks to her dog, and Lily talks back to me. So there's a lot of Lily in the book. And Lily is also a great listener. So when the door squeaks at the courtyard gate, which is about 100 feet from the house, Lily says, "Mom, somebody's here!" And hopefully she thinks it's Nick, my helper.
So Lily is a great listener is the lesson there.
Yes, I think so. Lily tells me, "Oh, Mom, pay attention." And she barks at coyotes. We have a— I have an acre of land that's wooded, and half of it is fenced for Lily. And the fence is about 7 feet tall, so coyotes can't get over it, but raccoons and squirrels can. And skunks. So we have a lot of wildlife on the mountain.
What would you say is the opposite of listening?
Self-obsession. I think we say a prayer, "Relieve me of the bondage of self." And the bondage of self is always wondering, "How am I doing?" Am I brilliant? I certainly hope so. And it sort of keeps nattering at you. And I think I've said enough about that.
What you didn't say is that the opposite of listening is talking, because you can be self-absorbed and not be talking and still not be listening.
Exactly. I think what I would say is that self-obsession is a constant companion, and that when we truly listen, we forget ourselves. We become focused on what the other person is saying. We become focused not on our response, but on what they have to share. And I think one of the tools of the listening path is to not interrupt. And I think a lot of times in a conversation, it isn't a real conversation. It isn't my turn, your turn. It's your turn, my turn.
Well, you tell me if I start asking questions too quickly, okay? Because I want this to be, you know, your episode, not mine. Are believing mirrors ever supposed to be critical?
Yes. So the answer is, well, first of all, what is a believing mirror? And it's somebody who reflects back to your strength and possibility, and they say to you, I believe you can do that. But a believing mirror also reflects back to you yourself accurately. So when I wrote The Listening Path, I gave it in manuscript form to several people who are, for me, believing mirrors. And my friend Gerard, who has been my friend for 52 years, read it and said, I really liked it. You could have expanded at the end. And so I take the notes of Believing Mirrors and take them into a second draft and a third draft. And I do multiple drafts of my books.
I am also a writer. I have written 15 books. I would love to know your process of writing, down really at the mechanics of how do you do it?
First of all, I write longhand, and I have found that when I write longhand, there is a flow to the work and an intelligence to the work. And I find I don't often need to do too much editing when I'm moving from a longhand draft to the second draft, which is on a computer. But I find writing on the computer, I want to say it makes me too glib, and writing by hand makes me more thoughtful.
When you are writing by hand, is this the romantic notion of you're using a fountain pen on parchment, or you're using a $1 pen on a legal tablet?
I don't use a legal tablet. I use what I call morning pages journals. Which are pages thick. The ink doesn't soak through. And I use a pen called Uni-ball 207. And I don't like fountain pens. I find I press too hard and I scratch the paper. And I have friends who swear by fountain pens. But I'm awkward with them, so I use the Uni-ball 207.
There's gonna be a run on Uni-ball 207s at every stationery store. In the country right now. Do you type in the computer draft or does someone do it for you?
All right, I write in journals and then I go to FedEx and I Xerox them because I'm afraid to mail my rough drafts across the country for fear, my God, what if something happens and it doesn't get there? So I send them to a woman that I work with named Emma Lively. And Emma and I have worked together for 22 years, and she is able to decipher my handwriting, and she very seldom has to ask me what word I had intended. And so Emma types it into the computer, and then Emma is for me a believing mirror. So after she types it into the computer, I say to her, "What did you think?" And Emma tells me what she thinks, and then I work with her as an editor. She and I have written books together, and she's very hard-headed, and I find her feedback supportive but also critical.
Just to back up for a second, As you're writing in longhand, are you working off an outline? Is there an outline in your brain, or it just flows?
I want to say it just flows, and I want to say this is where, um, I depend upon prayer. I find myself— I write in the morning pages, and it puts me in touch with a flow a benevolent flow. And then when I sit down to write, I start right where I am, which is why you have so much Lily in the book.
Okay. Do you— this may seem like a confusing and maybe too esoteric question, but Do you write and then listen, or do you listen and then write?
I listen and then write.
So you're listening to something inside you telling you what to write?
Inside me, outside me. I feel like when you tune into your environment, you get guidance. So I don't want this to sound too woo-woo, My experience is that you can trust yourself. And when you write by hand, you're trusting yourself. You're listening. Well, I'll give you an example. We go through COVID, and I'm friends with a woman named Judy Collins, who is a wonderful singer. And Judy has written a dozen books. And I called Judy during COVID and said, what are you doing? Which is a fatal question to ask Judy because she says, I'm practicing the piano, I'm singing, I'm writing a coffee table book, doing a podcast. And she ticks off a whole list of creative things. And then she says to me, what are you doing? And I say, well, I'm writing my morning pages. I'm taking walks. I'm taking artist dates. And other than that, I'm not doing anything creative. So then I thought, and I said to her, you know, I'm supposed to be the queen of creativity, but I find myself mulling rather than creating. So I went to the page the next day after talking to Judy, who was inspirational, and I found myself reading guidance, which is, you know, I write, what should I do next? And then I listen. 'And I heard you're going to write another play.' And I had written 6 plays already, and I thought, 'Another play? Well, I have no idea.' And the guidance said, 'Start with birds.' So I found myself starting a play longhand with the line, 'Aren't they lovely?' I love that story.
Okay, so I'm going to read to you 4 little clips from your book, and then I have a question after I read them, okay? So one is a greased slide to atheism, another is driving with high beams, another is mental cigarette breaks, and the last one is a higher force shaking ice cube trays. This is when it was hailing in New Mexico. I love those metaphors, and I want to know, how do you come up with such great metaphors?
Okay, so I'm gonna say again, I do the morning writing every day, and Nigel says, "Oh, you're boring," and you say, "Thank you for sharing, Nigel," and you keep right on writing. And what happens is that your Nigel, your critic, becomes miniaturized. It becomes a cartoon voice and not something deadly, forbidding, looming, and frightening. So what happens when you write something like, "I imagine the higher power giving ice cubes a celestial shake," uh, if Nigel says, that's a ridiculous image, you say, Nigel, thank you for sharing, but I think I'll keep my image. So I think the morning pages lead to freedom and the freedom of expressing. Everybody knows high beams versus low beams, and I think it's important not to talk down to your readers, to assume that they're going to get what you're saying. And I think that readers bring a world of associations. And people have said to me, "Oh, can I see Lily?" And I, when I'm doing a podcast, I will hold Lily up. Would you like to see Lily?
I would love to see Lily, yes.
Okay, here's Lily.
Oh wait, she's— yeah, you have to—
she's a little bit camera shy. She's focused. If I— if you had a dog barking, she would be alertly focused on the computer saying, let me at him.
Thank you for sharing that Lily moment. That was very special. Thank you. Next question. So I think that you and Brenda Ueland share this concern that perfectionism is a barrier, that until you can do things perfect or everything else is perfect, you can't do anything. So I understand that, but don't you think that perfectionism also produces quality?
So here's how it works for me. I make a list of 10 things if I didn't have to do it perfectly, I'd try. And I list all 10 things. And then I find myself writing imperfectly. And what I find is that The perfectionist is useful in the second and third drafts, but the first draft should be freeform. And you asked before, and I didn't answer it, and I should have, if I used an outline. And the answer is no. I go with the flow. And I believe that there's an inherent form that what we're writing knows the shape it should be.
In the book, you tell multiple stories about when your landline was not working. Yes. And in every instance, you said, "I'll call you on my cell phone." And then later in the book, you talk about how deprivation leads to creativity. Is there some conflict or irony there? Because most people would not associate having a cell phone and deprivation, you could make the case that without a cell phone or without any other phone, you'd be in deprivation and therefore more creative. So does the cell phone help you or hurt you?
Well, I keep the cell phone in the kitchen and I only use it for calling out. So I found when I had the landline depriving me of communication that I came to rely— again, this is going to sound woo-woo. I have a girlfriend who says, as a Jungian analyst, and she says, Julia, woo-woo is where it's at. So not to sound too woo-woo, I came to depend on ESP. And what I would find is my friend Jennifer would call me up and she would be cross with me that the landline still wasn't working. And I went through 4 technicians and finally one said, "Your conventional landline draws too many volts, so you need to use a portable phone." So I was dubious, but I tried it and it worked. And what I found though was that if I didn't have a working phone, I would go to my cell phone and call out, and I would call my friend Laura and say, "Were you trying to reach me?" And inevitably the response would be, "I was just about to call you." And I have a friend, a wonderful writer named Jacob Nordby, He has a book coming out called The Creative Cure, and I got to write the foreword for it, which was a privilege. And he, uh, I will call him and he will always say, I was just about to call you.
You know, you talk about the concept of an artist's date, and for me, I consider an artist's date going out on a drive in a fast car. And most people would say, Guy, you are You know, that's not an artist date. An artist date is going to the forest or going to the ocean or doing something like that. I like to drive fast on my artist dates. Is that— am I making this up, or can that be true? Well, what you're talking about—
all right, first of all, we should say what an artist date is. Okay. And it's a solo festive expedition to do something that enchants or interests you. Okay. You're actually trying to please your inner 8-year-old. And I think what you're describing, the thrill of speed, is something that does sound like a valid artist state to me because it's something that enchants or interests you or thrills you. And I have an artist date that people say, "Oh, Julia, that's not an artist date." And that is I go to a bookstore where they have a bunny rabbit named George. And instead of looking at the books, I ask permission to pet George. And when I pet George, I find myself I find myself feeling exuberant. He's a wonderful creature. And then I go to the books, and they say all about snakes. All about big cats. All about engines. And I find that the amount of information in a children's book is just about the amount my artist needs Start working.
You discuss the power of music in the book and Is it conceivable that rap music can be considered a soundtrack for young people? I think yes, I think so.
I've written several musicals, and I do it on a little teeny keyboard that has 18 keys, and I, I do it there because It's less intimidating than a major piano. So it's— I write on the little keyboard for fun. And I think that rap music is fun.
I love the concept of the 20-minute trick. So could you explain that to my audience?
Yes. All right, I'm going to give credit here to an actress named Jennifer Bassi, who is the one that was crabby with me about my phone. And she's a delight. And she was married for 30 years to a writer. And so she observed closely what worked and what she saw him doing. And his name was Luther Davis, and he wrote Kismet. What she saw him doing was tricking himself into work. I said to her, I'm sort of stuck. My perfectionist has me by the throat. And she said, try writing for 20 minutes. And I thought, 20 minutes, I can manage 20 minutes. That's a small, doable amount. So I tried writing for 20 minutes and discovered that when I got to the 20-minute mark, I was up and running and wanted to keep going further. So the 20-minute trick is a bribe. You're telling your artist, you don't need to do something serious. You need to do something festive. And the festive something is the quick 20 minutes. Wonderful.
This is something that, because of my past, it struck me as very interesting, and I just want to check something. So in your book, you tell the story about how your handyman— and once your handyman came with his wife to your house and you say something to the effect that she had 5-carat or 8-carat earrings. So I used to work in the jewelry business, so a 5 or 8-carat earring is a humongous earring.
She said, she said she couldn't believe the people who would come to her shop and buy these clunkers. And she said, we have a hard time keeping them in stock. And I think she herself has a more petite earring that's maybe a little bit more tasteful. And I think, uh, you know, I live in Santa Fe, which is the land of turquoise. And silver. And sometimes I see somebody and they have a belt with a huge buckle of solid silver with turquoise embedded in it, and I think that the people who are wearing the diamonds are trying to avoid wearing the turquoise.
I would like you to explain why people should write their diaries in the morning, but you were composing prayers in the evening. So why diaries in the morning and prayers in the evening?
Well, all right, so the 3 pages of longhand morning writing are intended to catch you in a vulnerable position before your defenses are up. And a lot of times at the end of writing 3 pages of free-form stream of consciousness, I would ask a question, what should I do about X? And I would listen for an answer. And I would sometimes— I would tend to get a pretty direct answer, which would tend to set my mind at ease for the day. And then I would get to the end of the day And I would go back to the page and I would say, "I tried X, now what about X?" And I would pursue it. And I think that in the calm of the evening up on the mountain, it was a wonderful time to pursue prayer. And I'm I think I'm too energetic in the morning to pray properly. I know there are people who do Morning Pages and then they meditate for 20 minutes. And I find that I get my most guidance when I'm— my hand is moving across the page rather than when I'm sitting still trying to do nothing.
How do you pick your heroes?
I think I look at my own value system and say, what do I value? And I find myself answering with answers that surprise me. And I, I've, you know, at this point, The Artist's Way has sold 5 million books, which is a lot of books. And especially since I thought I was writing the book for 10 of my closest friends and turned out to speak to others. And so it has become a movement, if you would. And I found myself thinking, who could be graceful with this situation. And that's where I came up with Bill Wilson. And, you know, he, he wrote a little bit for a few people, and now it's spoken to millions.
My last question is for young people listening to this, and they aspire to write. What is your advice?
Write morning pages. I think getting on the page, teaching yourself to move past your censor, to write freely. What I find happens with people when I teach is that they start out a little bit cranky and say, "I'm boring and my life is boring." But then they write and they discover that their life is actually fairly interesting. And it gives them confidence. So what happens is, if they— if you write morning pages in the morning, later in the day when you turn to your other, quote, serious writing, you find yourself writing freely. And so I would coax young writers, try morning pages. You'll see It's a wonderful gift. Give it a shot.
Thank you. This podcast is sponsored by a company that makes a tablet. This tablet, it looks like this. So this is a tablet and this is a stylus that operates like a pencil. So I can just write on it and we're gonna send you one. Maybe you will like writing with it. It's not a computer, not in the sense of typing with a keyboard, but you literally— and it feels like you're writing with a pencil. So we'll send you one and maybe you'll like it. And then that would just make our day.
Thank you. It looks like fun to me. Fun is enticing.
One of the beauties, you know, thinking about your workflow is As you write out your book in longhand with this pencil-like, pen-like device, it will automatically go up into the cloud and be synchronized. So you immediately have another copy, and you could easily give your friend, the other person who helps you write, access to the account so she could immediately have it. You won't have to go to the FedEx store anymore to Xerox and mail stuff. So it might help your workflow. So on the other hand, it might just be fun.
So it sounds festive, and I will look forward to receiving it.
All right, thank you so much. My wife was just thrilled that I could talk to you. She knew all about, you know, all the daily writing and the prayer, and she's a fan. So I went up in her book because I'm interviewing you, so thank you very much.
I hope you enjoyed this episode with Julia Cameron. Remember, put the Nigel back in the bottle, or at least ignore him. One needs to learn how to control negativism and self-doubt. I'm Guy Kawasaki, and this is Remarkable People. My thanks to Jeff See and Peg Fitzpatrick who remove negativism and self-doubt from my podcasts. Until next time, maintain adequate social distance, wash your hands, wear a mask, and if you can, get vaccinated as soon as you can. Mahalo and aloha.
This is Remarkable People.
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