My good friendcartazon introduced me to creative journaling a few weeks ago. She explained its usefulness for writers, which is all well and good. But lo, when I laid eyes on her splashy entries, I
coveted them wanted to try it for myself.
And still, I resisted, mainly because
a) I’m not an artist (have I mentioned the ‘C’ grades I earned in elementary school?)
b) my perfectionist tendencies might make it more work than play
But when I kept coming back to the idea, I figured I’d might as well give it a try. I bought a spiral-bound sketchbook–small, so I won’t get intimidated by the broad expanse of blankness. And over the weekend, I
emptied my bank account filled a shopping cart with art supplies. (Disclaimer: You don’t really need more than a few colored pens and pencils. See also: b, above.)
Long story made short: I’m in love. It’s another avenue for self expression, one that connects the right side of my brain with the left. Plus, the very act of creation invites more inspiration, which has a spill-over effect on my writing. My enthusiasm far exceeds my skill level, I know that. But really and truly, I don’t think that matters. Whether or not the pages are beautiful, the process itself brings me joy.
Since it’s Teaser Tuesday, I’ve mustered up the courage to post my debut pages. The images you see here are representative of "His Eye is on the Sparrow," my chapter about Nana. They’re not perfect by any means, so I’m certainly open to suggestions. And if you haven’t already, I invite you to create an artistic journal of your very own.