Journaling my heart out

Well, I probably should say, drawing my heart out, because that would be more accurate right now. I've been tearing through my current journal, just playing around with pens and watercolor paints and colored pencils and crayons. It's been a darned good time, and I can't believe that I'm nearing the end of the book already. I began this journal on July 29th, exactly a month ago, and I have about 16 or so pages left.

Since the drawing bug seems to bite me every few years, I decided it was time to really dive in and give it an honest try. In the past I'd be inspired to draw, but I'd quickly give it up after a few half-hearted attempts. I wanted to go from zero to accomplished sketcher, with little effort in between. When I didn't magically churn out amazing drawings, I'd give up in frustration. Yet the urge would always come back.


When I began this journal, I kind of had a goal in mind, a sort of promise to myself. I decided that I was going to give this journal over to my desire to draw. I was going to fill the entire book with drawings- no collage, no mixed media, just sketch after sketch- and I was going to really put in the time and effort. If, by the end of the book, I still wasn't "good" at drawing, then that would be that. I'd lay this drawing business to rest, knowing I'd given it the time and attention it warranted.

So now that I'm nearing the end of my book, here's what I've realized. I am not amazingly talented at this. I'm not doing these fantastic renderings that would astonish and impress my friends. But what's really cool is that I no longer think it matters. I'm having a great time. I'm seeing huge improvements in my drawing...not saying I'm the best, or even terribly good, but I'm better than I was. And I've found one more way in which I can slow down, see the world in a new way, and leave my mark behind.

I'm looking forward to the next journal, and seeing where I'll go from here.