Over several years, I have outlined and started writing many short stories and novels. A few of the stories were published in various magazines, but I become far too frustrated with myself to get very deep into novels themselves. So many good ideas, so many days lost, so many disappointing results. Much like my so-called artwork, I've destroyed or misplaced more words than I care to remember. The same is true of my many illustrations. I can't even begin to count the number of etchings, pen & inks, watercolors, etc. that have been summarily rejected by publishers over the years. It really eats at you.
This piece is a pastel rough for an idea I had been working on for a children's book. The story basically revolved around dealing with fear. The problem being that I would be the wrong author to continue that tale. My fear and inner anger tears at me daily and has for two decades. The pages I had written have long been lost or destroyed. All that remains is this one visual of an unfinished coverpiece.
Rick, I think it's beautiful. And why have you been angry for two decades? That's an awful long time. My husband was like that - and finally, when he let the anger go...wow. What a difference. Our pastor asked him, "Where did all the anger go?" My husband's response? "I don't know and I don't care."
ReplyDeleteAngry might be the wrong word. I get very hateful and disgusted with myself as I paint, sculpt, etc. Its not the critics in galleries that bother me, but always that inner torturer that tears me apart.
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