I wish I could draw… sigh…


I do NOT own this picture and I have no idea who does, but I love it.

When first I came across it, my breath caught in my throat for a couple heartbeats. I honestly can’t recall where I first saw it, but I did pin it. Soooo… I should probably check there. *UPDATE* This is where I found the pic… http://scarlettindisguise.tumblr.com/

Anyway, at but a glance, it told me a whole story. Sad and triumphant and dark and majestic, all at the same time. My third book contains a character much like this one. So, I probably connected with it on a much different level than what the artist meant. Or perhaps not. Perhaps I hit it square on the head. Either way, it inspired me.

And that’s what I want to talk about today… Inspiration.

Are you inspired on a regular basis, or does it simply come in spurts? How do you use inspiration? Do you use it? And has it ever opened your mind up to a whole new way of thinking?

Personally, I find inspiration in the most unusual things. A broken bit of cast off jewelry, snippets of a conversation between strangers, a colorful phrase, a lonely look in a child’s eyes, or an elated look for that matter. I’m inspired by ancient history, the true bits and the embellished ones as well. I like to watch the clouds, find hidden little places off the beaten path, explore common things and turn them into magical moments. Have you ever tried that? I mean, going out in the woods, digging through the dead leaves and rubbish until you find a hidden treasure. Not gold or gems, but a clump of tiny toadstools, or an ant hill, or some other fascinating little thing that no one else in the world knows about but you. Have you ever done that? Oh, but you must. It’s like… free, no strings attached… Magic.

My childhood was filled with inspiration and books and odd characters (and I was blood kin to most of them). I’m giggling a bit now, just thought you should know. 🙂

Now for the title… I wish I could draw.

It’s true, ya know. I do wish I could draw. Alas, I am gifted with neither musical ability nor artistic talent. But I am spilling over the brim with imagination. Just saying the word makes my lips get all tingly. I’m curious as well, and sometimes I wonder… Did they use to lock people like me away? Did they give someone like me (too much curiosity and fanciful dreaming) shock treatment or drill holes in their heads to release the demons?. I started to giggle, but stopped. Why? I fear I may be very near the truth. Ugh, cold chills. Humans, terrifying creatures. Aren’t they?

But I digress…

I’ve always thought, if I could draw I could show people what was going on in my head. I want them to see what I see, experience what I have, and perhaps… believe in just a bit of magic.

Alas, I cannot. But I have discovered (and quite by accident, mind you) that I can write what I see. I can use words instead of chalk, phrases instead of paint, and descriptions in place of colors. To me, books are an inexpensive ticket to a magical world, a fantastical wonderland. And I don’t even have to fix my hair to visit. Now that’s a vacation!

Wanna give it a go?


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