Week 11: Creative Autonomy & Redefining Success
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Hello, my lovely MsBrowns family.
It’s NotesOnDawn here, and I’m back in our wonderful 'AllAboutBooks' corner with a heart that is very full, and just a little bit sentimental. I truly "can't believe we are nearly finished this series" . Here we are, at the end of Week Eleven of Julia Cameron’s The Artist's Way. Only one more week to go.
This journey has been one of the most transformative of my life, and this week’s theme felt like the final, toughest, and most beautiful challenge: Recovering a Sense of Autonomy.
When I read that title, my first thought was: what does that even mean?
As I worked through the week, I realised "autonomy" is the quiet, stable core of the artist. It's the part of you that creates, not for applause, or for a book deal, or for "likes," but for the sheer, simple, sacred need to create. It’s about being your own source.
And to get to that autonomy, you have to work through the "dual themes of acceptance and success" . For a writer, these two words are our own personal dragons. We are constantly chasing "success" (validation, publication, praise) while struggling with "acceptance" (of our own voice, our own pace, our own "level").
My vlog of this week was "very short and sweet" , a "page out of a summer scrapbook" rather than a deep, philosophical dive. But that, I've learned, is the answer. The autonomy isn't found in a grand, dramatic gesture. It’s found in the small, "zen" moments: in cooking a good meal, in finding a new coffee shop, in watching the summer rain.
This week, the big, scary themes were processed not with anxiety, but with pasta salad and peace.
Amazon UK - The Artist's Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity by Julia Cameron
The Big, Scary Catch-Up: Autonomy vs. "Success"
My "cloudy morning catch up" was the real heart of this week’s work. As I sat there, cosy and reflective, I had to finally sit down with those two dragons.
What is success?
For most of my journey, "success" has been my biggest creative block. It’s the terrifying ghost that haunts every blank page. Success, in my old definition, was external. It was getting an agent. It was a publishing contract. It was validation. It was, as I've mentioned in past posts, the idea of being "famous" or "successful" enough to have the stability to write.
But The Artist's Way rips that definition apart. It says: You are already a successful artist, because you are practising your art.
"Success" is not the book deal. "Success" is the act of writing the book. It’s the process, not the product.
This is, frankly, a terrifying concept for a writer. Our entire craft is geared towards a final, finished "product." We don’t just write; we write a novel. We write a story. We crave an "ending."
But "autonomy" is learning to let go of that. An autonomous artist is one who writes because they must, not because of what it will get them. They are guided by their own integrity, their own curiosity, their own truth. They are, in a word, free.
This week, I’ve been trying to practise this freedom. I’ve been trying to accept my own process. Acceptance, I’ve learned, is the key that unlocks autonomy.
I must accept that my first drafts are messy.
I must accept that some writing days will be "bad."
I must accept that my creative voice is valid, even if it’s not "on trend."
I must accept that I cannot control the outcome (who buys the book, who likes it), but I can 100% control the process (my willingness to show up to the page).
This is where the "summer scrapbook" of my weekend comes in. The actions I took were all quiet, physical lessons in practising acceptance and finding my own autonomous joy.
Finding Autonomy in the "Zen" of Small Things
This week wasn't about pushing, striving, or "networking." It was about being. It was about filling my own well, on my own terms.
1. The Solo Artist Date: A New Coffee Shop My first act of autonomy was a classic: the Artist Date. I found a "cute vietnamese coffee shop" and just... sat. I didn't go there to "work" on my novel. I didn't go there to take photos for Instagram. I went there for me.
For a writer, a coffee shop can be a cliché, but it’s also a sanctuary. It’s a perfect "third space"—not home, not work—where you can be "alone together."
This simple act of "discovering" something new, just for my own pleasure, is a muscle I'm building. An autonomous artist doesn't wait for someone else to bring them inspiration. They go out and find it. They listen. They observe. They taste a new kind of coffee and let it spark a new thought. They are their own creative source. This quiet, solo moment was a way of telling myself: I am enough to entertain me. My own company is a creative act.
2. The Spiritual Check-in: A Little Church Walk As you might remember from previous weeks, I’ve found a strange, quiet solace in "holy spaces." This week, I took "a little church walk", not for any grand spiritual purpose, but just to be in the quiet.
This, for me, is an act of acceptance. It's about accepting that my creativity needs silence. In our loud, demanding, "content-driven" world, choosing silence is a radical act of autonomy.
For a writer, this is the same energy as facing the blank page. The page is its own kind of quiet, intimidating "church." This walk was a practise. It was me, practising the art of showing up to a silent space, being present, and just... listening. Not forcing, not begging for ideas, but just accepting the silence, and trusting that this, too, is part of the work.
3. The Physical Practice: Yoga The prompt for this week was to "practice yoga together" . This is the body-mind connection that The Artist's Way champions. Writing is so cerebral. We live entirely in our heads, in the non-physical worlds of our stories.
Yoga is a powerful act of acceptance of the physical. It forces you back into your body, into your breath, into the present moment. You cannot "succeed" at yoga; you can only "practise" it. (Sound familiar?)
As I practised, I realised this is the same as writing. I can't "succeed" at a first draft; I can only "practise" it. I have to accept the discomfort of a difficult pose, just as I have to accept the discomfort of a difficult chapter. By breathing through it, I am building the autonomous strength to stay with the work, even when it’s hard. Autonomy isn't just in the mind; it's in the body. It’s the discipline to sit in the chair.
Acceptance is a Shared Feast (And a Rainy Day)
The most beautiful part of this week was realising that autonomy doesn't mean isolation.
Being an autonomous artist—free from the need for external validation—doesn't mean you cut yourself off. In fact, it means the opposite. It means you are finally free to engage with your community in a pure, joyful way, not as a "networking opportunity," but as a human being.
This is what my "rainy weekend" truly embodied.
The Community: My friends "Will and Ellie over!". We played games. We cooked dinner together. This was my "inner child" work, my "play" time. A "successful" artist, in my old definition, would be too "busy" or "serious" for "game time". But an autonomous artist is secure enough to be silly. They are grounded enough to know that this connection, this joy, is the fuel. It’s not a distraction from the work; it is the work of filling the well.
The Process: We cooked the "yummy viral pasta salad with peaches and tomatoes" . This was not a high-stakes, stressful creative act. It was a sensory, joyful, grounding act. It was an act of pure "zen." We were chopping, tasting, laughing. We were in the process. This is the "acceptance" part of the "acceptance and success" duality. We were accepting the simple joy of making something, with no attachment to the "success" of the outcome (even if it was delicious!).
The New "Success": Sunset at the Reservoir And then, we packed up our pasta salad, and we had a "sunset dinner by the reservoir" .
This, my loves, was it. This was the entire week, distilled into one perfect, golden-hour moment.
My old, anxious self's idea of "success" was a fantasy: a book launch in a fancy London bookshop, champagne, a critic’s review.
My new, autonomous self's idea of "success" is this: sitting on a blanket, eating a delicious, home-made meal out of a Tupperware, surrounded by people I love, watching the sky turn pink over the water.
This is it. This is the "success." It’s not a future, external goal. It is a present, internal state. It is peace. It is presence. It is "acceptance" of the perfect, simple beauty of the moment. This is the creative life. This feeling, this is what I’m chasing.
The week ended with "SUMMER RAIN". A "rainy cosy sunday evening" . And it felt perfect. The final lesson in autonomy.
An autonomous artist no longer needs a "perfect, sunny day" to create. We don’t need a muse. We don’t need external permission. We can create in the "rain." We can accept the "cosy" gloom, the "cloudy morning", and find the beauty in it. We can make our own warmth. We can sit down at the page, listen to the rain on the window, and write.
We are our own sun. We are our own home. We are autonomous.
Thank you for being on this journey with me. Almost there.
With so much warmth,
NotesOnDawn