Another productive day, which is great, but exhausting. It’s 11pm and I’ve just put aside all work, or at least I’m about to. I’ve written blog posts, edited photos, worked on a friend’s visual CV and finally, designed a brand new thing for my RedBubble & Teepublic shops. It’s a Newt thing. Because I love Newt dearly. Newt rhymes with cute.
Fantastic Beasts fans will understand.
I also set up my easel today just in case I manage to put aside some time for painting. I’ve got two canvases waiting and a pack of brand new water miscible oil paints calling my name.
My brushes are all shit, but that just sounds like a real bad excuse so let’s just ignore that little fact.
Yesterday, aside from the forever present blog work, I spent hours on my brand new & fantastic writer’s workbook, creating characters, plotlines and a dozen other things needed for a good novel. What is up with that anyway? I’m not even a novelist!
But these stories and people need to get out of my head, I feel like they want to be free to roam the world or at least just live on paper somewhere in the bookshelf. Besides, I think I need to make room for new ones.
Surprisingly, my big story isn’t a fairytale and it’s not a romantic thing. These are the two things I would’ve probably gone for 5-10 years ago, but not now. All of a sudden I’m drafting a story about things like power, politics, drumpf-like evil people and heroes, who sacrifice their own lives to make the world a better place for the regular joes. So strange. Somehow, I, the person with the least interest ever for politics suddenly has all these feels about it all.
And apparently, they’re making their way into my fiction. Hurray.
I’m not even sure if I’ll ever allow anyone to read my stories. I kind of want to… but I’m also afraid it’s not good enough. We all know that feeling, don’t we? And it’s dumb. I know that’s not the way things should be.
Anyway, before I rambled on about trivial things about my creative life, I did have something meaningful to say. Something, perhaps, about how inspiration, motivation and creativity really seem to come and go. How sometimes you just can’t stop working, even when exhausted, on your writing, your art, your photography, whatever it is you create… and then two weeks later it’s all gone and you can’t even put a simple sentence together.
Maybe that’s why we mind-crafty folks sometimes go a little crazy and seem a little manic.
Maybe we’re just trying to get as much as shit done as possible before the zombie phase strikes again.