It's been two years since I posted on this blog, and it's been a very busy two years. Although I am still painting (updates on that soon), I've also launched a new creative endeavor: writing fiction.
When I was six years old and was asked what I wanted to do when I grew up, I declared that I wanted to make pictures and stories. Somewhere I still have a copy of my first effort at an illustrated book about a blue jay, started when I was six. Now, nearly forty years later, I'm making another effort at a book.
I've made several false starts at fiction over the years, mostly during my teens and twenties. I've been successfully writing nonfiction for decades, and I feel very comfortable with it. Two years ago, I decided to try fiction again, this time using my nonfiction experience to help me make the creative leap. In some ways, I felt like my writing style was as constrained as my painting style: very literal, unable to depict the world of imagination or fantasy or emotion. Rather than bemoan this as a weakness, I chose to use it as a strength.
