For a couple years after college, I’d start various artistic endeavors but very rarely see them through. I’d lose interest, have a better idea or move on to something else.
After a while I kinda gave up, got sucked into the 9-5, moved too many times, and more-or-less lost the drive, until I realized the real problem — I’m useless without deadlines, even those self-imposed. But as more time passed, a defeatist fear began to set in: what if I can’t remember how? What if I lost that “thing” — whatever it was.
Only one way to find out, I suppose. So after barely putting pencil to paper in over six years, I sat down in front of a window today at about 4:00 and drew until I ran out of daylight. It was a deadline, and it was a short one — no time to finish, just draw … something. Anything.
It’s been a while, so I went with something familiar. If my name was Stella, you might call this “getting my groove back.”