Sunday, February 06, 2011
For some reason its easier for me to paint a picture, good or bad, and post it on the blog for the world (yeah, right) to see than to admit that I am also a hopeful, maybe a capricious, writer.
I have no illusions about my artistic ability - I have moments when my mind seems to be able to clearly communicate to my hand what it wants out of the paint and brush and for that I am very grateful. I also have many moments when my brain and my hand don't appear to be on speaking terms. That's just the way it goes for me.
But the truth is I think I'm a better writer than painter. I'm an unpolished stone in that I lack a lot of formal training in grammar and punctuation but I think I have a talent for conveying whats in my mind and heart onto paper with far more accuracy than canvas. Now lest you think that last statement reeks of ego let me tell you something, I have far more insecurity about putting my written work "out there".
Seriously, I have had my first book written for a long time and can't seem to manage to finish the editing in order to have it read by those who's opinions I trust. And that's a shame because its a good and fun little story. I'm also about half way through the second book which is a little gem but again - can't seem to get on with it. The format for the third book is already laid out.
I don't know what my problem is, I'm open to suggestions.
I don't know if its lack of focus, lack of discipline, exhaustion stemming from poor health and working both a full time and part time job.....
When my first marriage was breaking up my then husband asked me to go to marriage counseling. I agreed and he picked out a therapist and off we went. After a couple of visits my former husband realized that the doctor wasn't going to take his side and make me behave so he quit going but I kept on. I had always laughed at folks who went to therapy but I have to say, it was one of the best things I ever did for myself.
The reason I'm telling you this is because it was this doctor who first alerted me to the possibility that I lacked the backbone to put myself "out there" and that was the real reason why I never seemed to finish up my book (s) or the half painted canvases that are laying around my studio or the half crocheted tablecloths in the closets.
And here's the hard part. I know better. I have sold my paintings. Won ribbons in shows for both my painting and my crochet work (are you surprised?) Recently I sold enough of my handmade jewelry to help finance my trip home for Christmas. I receive a steady stream of confirmations from a variety of people in a variety of fields encouraging me to write for a living.
So what's my problem?
In the meantime while I'm writing, editing and trying to sort it all out and find my backbone I'll entertain you with some more photo's that I've taken and kind of like...a lot. Feel free to critique my issues - apparently I need to get used to it and overcome my insecurities.....