This is the view out of my window at work: trees lashed by rain, dark grey skies, rivulets of water running down the windows. It looks like 8:00 pm out there…in February.
Is there somewhere where I can file an official complaint about the English weather? This is totally unacceptable for August. I’m wearing layered sweaters in an attempt to keep warm. My hands are cold and I’m actually considering having a cup of hot tea (I’ve never acquired the British taste for tea).
Since I’m presently working at a job (search optmisation specialist) that bores me to tears, there is a lot of time to think about some of the projects that I want to start. I plan and make notes and flesh out outlines and backstories.
The creative process is interesting: sometimes it’s like being hit by lightning, and you’re struck by a great idea that you work on in a fevered passion until it’s done. Sometimes it’s more like something that you can feel growing inside…it gradually gets bigger, more complete, more mature, until it reaches the stage when you can actually start working.
I’ve got an idea for an illustrated children’s book about a girl inventor. It’s a steampunk fairytale about imagination, and how it can be used to escape a grey existence in a drab Northwest England estate. It has a sleeping princess, and airships made from granny pants. :) It might be fun.
Quite honestly, I have the whole story in my head. It’s starting the art that scares me. I haven’t drawn 0r painted in ages, and only in the last year or so started working again in digital media. I’m afraid of failing, and having the shiny idea turn dull and broken.
It’s a scary thing.