Bad Art When You Can’t Write

I’ve started a new policy: don’t get stuck.

If I wake up in the morning dying to get my new ideas on paper but when I sit down I discover they’re not fully gelled, I don’t get to mope.

No moping allowed.

I have to make something. Anything. A bad poem. A terrible painting. Draw a manga version of a possible character. Plant new flowers. Refinish an old chest of drawers. Interpretive dance that terrifies my kids and cats. Stagnation isn’t an option because it makes me incredibly anxious and stupid, and even the most generous of plotlines won’t have anything to do with me (and I don’t blame them).

So. Behold my awful watercolor that I’m inexplicably proud of.


Eventually, a protagonist will bubble up from the stew of my soul, take one look at my art, and pity me. Then I’ll trap ’em. It’s a wicked plan, but when you’re stuck, you have to play dirty.


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