Amy Clampitt’s poetry is phenomenal, but she didn’t publish until she was in her sixties. Her letters show that writing, reading, and criticism were all an integral and essential part of her life as early as the 1950s—when the selection here begins—and that she knew writing was her calling. Even still, she knew that learning and practicing and revisiting were critical tasks a writer needs to pursue before mastering the craft. Her letters are full of wit, precision, and an incisive wit that would later make its way into playwriting, novels, and finally her true calling: poetry. Reading the letters is a journey one takes along with Clampitt as she comes into her own, as she breaks new ground, traces her steps back, tries new tactics, and eventually finds her own voice—a voice she’s always sure she’s had, and one evident in her letters all throughout, but one that takes its time to evolve and reach maturity. It’s a journey well worth taking, and it proves that being a writer is much more than just writing: it is about honing one’s craft, learning about traditions, breaking molds, and experimenting over and over again.