First of all, school’s back for me. (…Hooray? Boo? *shrugs shoulders*) Unfortunately that means that my blog will have to suffer a little more neglect yet again. Because, while I do enjoy the sensory overload of so many shiny new things to learn, I am no magician. Nor do I own any clones. Time is something I seem to have less and less of. *sigh*
But I promise, I will be posting regularly, at least once or twice a week. Most of the time.
Now, on to what this post is actually about:
(Let me first just say, I’m a little terrified to be admitting some of this stuff. For most of my life, it’s been me, and my real world, and my imagination. Neat, clear lines separating each piece. But if I want to be a writer, well, I’ve got to let that fear go.)
I am a very visual person. Art is in my writing and writing’s in my art and I’m fairly sure that writing is art so… naturally stuff from one category will seep into the other occasionally.
I’d like to say that this doesn’t happen very often… but then I’d be lying. It really does. Art and writing are crisscrossed for me, so a lot of times I’ll draw what I meant to write or write what I meant to draw, which helps me to better write/draw what I had originally intended to be a piece of writing/art.
…That didn’t make any sense at all, did it? Here, let me try again:
Basically, a small scene or blurb of writing will sometimes become so etched into my mind that it evolves into a sketch or painting or other, which in turn causes me to write more, based off of the image I can see in front of my eyes. And vice versa.
So when I have writer’s block, I’ll probably have art-block too (artist’s block? um…) I cringe at the very thought.
I’d always known they were linked together inside me, but I never really knew just how linked they were, until the other day.
I was drawing, not really with anything specific in mind, except that it was most definitely a person (or at least person-shaped– there was still plenty of room for wings and tails and things later down the road.)
I ended up with this:
Nothing too weird or special about it. No wings or tails, either.
But the real thing about this drawing is that, although the attire might be ever-so-slightly inaccurate, this is most definitely a character–the character– straight out of my writing.
I swear I did it on accident.
It’s not that I haven’t drawn characters out before, but this time I didn’t plan on it beforehand. It’s like my hands have small brains of their own inside them…
I love her to pieces, but now I’m kind of wondering if I can uncross my writing and art. At least, just a little bit.
I am afraid they may be irreversibly conjoined. Not so good when I’m drawing stuff for other projects. And I’m just the teensiest bit afraid that I might be too obsessed with my own characters and stories. Characters and stories that, let’s face it, don’t clash well with the real, working world.
And yet, here they are.
Clashing. Coming together. Mingling.
I won’t tell you what the character’s real name is (for many reasons, one of them being that her name is still very impermanent), but she– the drawing– certainly is her.
She’s got that expression on her face that she would have. And I’m pretty sure that if this outfit was in her closet, she would choose it and wear it.
A little scary, isn’t it? How the imaginary worlds in our heads escape into the real world in our hands?
But that’s the whole point, I guess. I do want her to join the real world one day. To really sit along a bookshelf wearing a pretty, new book jacket, hopefully to be picked up by other people, people who will get to know her like I do.
I would like very much for you to meet her someday.
In many ways, she is one of my best friends. Most good characters are, whether they belong to my worlds or someone else’s.
It is a little scary, but there is a thrill that comes along with the scary. A thrill, a joy, a compulsion to bring the world in my head to the world outside.
Do I sound a little crazy? Because in truth, that’s kind of how I feel right now, writing this. I mean, on top of typing out this very iffy-complicated post, it’s half-past whatever time I finished my calculus homework, and I also had a yummy, sugary, caffeine-y iced mocha. Calculus + lack of sleep + blog + yummy iced mocha = crazy
If this made absolutely no sense, I’m blaming the calculus homework, because the mocha was yummy and I never get enough sleep anyway and I CAN’T BLAME MY OWN BLOG.
Breathe Jackie, breathe! Sorry. Not good at this.
So… what did I learn from all this? I’m not exactly sure, to be honest. Maybe it’s that I can become a little obsessive with the projects I truly love. Maybe it’s that I can’t take the art out of me– or the writing– no matter what. Or maybe it’s that all these different pieces of me are better when they coalesce together.
(Coalesce. Ha. Hopefully you’ll understand my clever word choice some time in the future. “Coalesce” just happens to be one of my favorite words.)
And most importantly, perhaps I learned that I don’t like the idea that the dual worlds I live in and explore are as far apart as black and white.
There’s got to be a little silver space in the middle.