it was a dark & stormy night…

as tornadoes and thunderstorms tear up an early december evening in illinois, i contemplate my newfound faith in myself.

it turns out that i am not content to take myself seriously solely an artist. the writer inside of me is also demanding attention.

whenever i start reading a lot of fiction (which i have been doing lately,) my inner writer gets stirred up. anymore, i can’t help but to take a story apart as i read it to see what works & what does not. this is actually a trait that has only recently developed in me. it used to be i got so lost in a story i didn’t know which way was up. which–it turns out–is a bit of a handicap as a writer.
being able to now analyze and dissect stories has me thinking i should be reading more of my own writings.
like this pile of works from the late 80s & early 90s. two books, some short stories, and flash fiction pieces written before i knew there was such a thing as flash fiction. 
my sister bound the one up like that. it is 300 some pages of double spaceed content–so not as huge as it appears.
note that i was using yet another version of my name for that one.

so!
the minions are away. i have two art commissions to work on. other than that, i will be poring through short stories, forgotten novels, and journals & journals & more journals with the crazy idea that i might have not one story to tell but three? four? more?

i know, you’re thinking “baby steps!” but i think i am just going to jump on into the deep end–you know, knowing how much i love a challenge. 
(i am my favorite challenge)
plus as a gloriously blooming late bloomer, i got some ground to cover to get to where i need to get to.

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turning a page

granted, due to the amount of ink & water i use, i am only able to use one side of a page, but yes–i am finishing another journal. i have written onto the final two pages & now just have to illustrate.
& i have written an entry already onto the first page of the new one.
i started the almost finished journal in early march of this year. a little over four months, and it is full.
wow.
when i look back through them, i am amazed.
who knew i had so much to say?
(okay, i knew–but before i started doing this art journal exercise–i mostly just said it to myself)
this is the fourth journal i have filled since last october when i started doing my self-portrait project. is there a world’s record for self-portraits? how many more do i need to do?

also, i am exploring more environmental/food stuff issues with my journaling–not just the wreck of me, but the wreck of all of us.
so we’ll see how that goes.

“The challenge for all of us is to find those few causes which are peculiarly our own, those to which we are clearly called, and then to embrace them wholeheartedly,” writes Scott Russell Sanders in his book Hunting for Hope.
for me, that is our food systems & how far we have all wandered away from nature & good food. the environmental effects of our lost ways. other than healing my own wounds through my art (& reaching out to others who know my pain) i hope to influence a shift in how we see our food systems and the destruction they wreak on us & on our world. maybe it is arrogance & delusion to think anyone would listen to me…but i at least have to try.

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