Steven Pressfield ran an excerpt from Rosanne Cash‘s compelling new memoir, Composed.

In it, Cash describes a dream, in which Linda Ronstadt and a man named “Art” are sitting on a couch deep in discussion. When Cash tries to join the conversation, Art dismisses her, saying, “We don’t respect dilletantes.” The dream had a profound effect on Cash: It inspired a new work ethic for singing, songwriting, and, exploring, and performing:

The strong desire to become a better songwriter dovetailed perfectly with my budding friendship with John Stewart, who had written “Runaway Train” for King’s Record Shop. John encouraged me to expand the subject matter in my songs, as well as my choice of language and my mind. I played new songs for him and if he thought it was too “perfect,” which was anathema to him, he would say, over and over, “but where’s the MADNESS, Rose?” I started looking for the madness. I sought out Marge Rivingston in New York to work on my voice and I started training, as if I were a runner, in both technique and stamina. Oddly, it turned out that Marge also worked with Linda, which I didn’t know when I sought her out. I started paying attention to everything, both in the studio and out. If I found myself drifting off into daydreams–an old, entrenched habit–I pulled myself awake and back into the present moment. Instead of toying with ideas, I examined them, and I tested the authenticity of my instincts musically. I stretched my attention span consciously. I read books on writing by Natalie Goldberg and Carolyn Heilbrun and began to self-edit and refine more, and went deeper into every process involved with writing and musicianship. I realized I had earlier been working only within my known range–never pushing far outside the comfort zone to take any real risks … I started painting, so I could learn about the absence of words and sound, and why I needed them

Further reading on Rosanne Cash and writing: Original Details and the Truth of Experience.