Nearly a month -- I know, I know, bad blogger. I wish I could say I've been furiously writing the entire time, but that wouldn't be entirely true. I have been making a concerted effort to write more, more tush in chair and fingers on keyboard, and by my page count, that is definetly paying off, but it's more relaxing than furious. I think all my furious is going into my heroines these days; outside of writing, I'll settle for a good nap. I'll save the furious part for everyday inconveniences. In short, me, doing good, family doing good, everyday urghs have ups and downs, but the story does go on.
Plus graphics. Since part of the everyday ugh includes an unusual sleep schedule, and the abode is still a postage stamp, I've found myself with some very artistic evenings. Granted, it's what one would term fan art, but y'know, that's what fires my creative brain, so that's what I'm going with for right now. Last week's project was icons -- don't know if there are enough message boards I go on to use half of the ones I've been making, but it's like calisthenics for the brain. How much can I get into such a little square? Time spent hunting down new techniques and tutorials is not time wasted, but time well spent, if it can get me to think "what if I tried this?" Sometimes it works out, sometimes not so good, but I have become far more familiar with Paint Shop Pro 6 than I thought I would. I do plan to upgrade in the near future, when I acquire the big bad pink monster, but for now, this is good.
With all that, yesterday, I hit on a first in that department. I actually printed out some of my projects for a scrapbook. Love scrapbooks. but face it, nobody wants to see my memories of the last year. (Though I do wonder what the good folks at Somerset Memories would think if I sent in a layout entitled "Three ER visitss in one week!" or "Another Alzheimer Moment." Umm, yeah, probably not.) I don't want to see my memories of last year. Trust me, I will not forget, and by the time I channel them into some poor unfortunate character in another century, they will be far more entertaining than traumatic.
For right now, this is my visual art. Taking the scenes and ideas and characters in my head and making them different, which, after all, is what I do with writing anyway. Only this time, with images. Which make the words want to come out and play.