As I “finished” the most recent drawings. I thought, “Man, I do not want to write a single thing tonight.”
So, maybe I won’t. The Myth of Pleura is still growing, but I’ve not offered much time to fiction this week. I relied too heavily on it in the realm of real lately. Whenever some minor but intense drama flares, I just pretend that everything is fine. I think they call it placating.
Sometimes, when things really seem ridiculous, I pretend like I am in a quirky independent film about a quirky dysfunctional family. I am the strange good mother. My children are characters still undeveloped, but act a causative force in the plot. The sounds that insects make are sometimes a soundtrack, other times it’s the vibration of human voice hitting the walls in adjacent rooms. Regardless, de-personalization helps to make it all seem like folly. Entertainment almost.
It is possible that I may have a touch of disassociative disorder. That makes the plot more interesting. A movie about a girl who imagines her life is a movie and makes a movie about a girl who imagines her life is a movie.
I seem to be writing and that is good. I would like to write about Pleura, explain some of these pictures I draw lately. Not all of them are intended as illustrations of a story not yet written. Some of them are just practice. The feet are a satisfying challenge. Drawing everyday gives me a chance to engage in challenges that may prove unfruitful. Before, when I managed to drag out my art supplies every three – six months or so, any attempt had to be brilliant. Of course, most attempts failed. Because how brilliant can you be if you never practice finding brilliance.
I am becoming a more confident artist and also am developing some technical skill tricks. I am tempted to go down the street to the Fine Arts League of the Carolinas and join there Tuesday – Thursday drawing group. But, as of now I am entirely self-taught. With the exception of a month of watercolor classes I took when I was 11 at a frame shop in St. Mary’s, GA. I like being self-taught. It helps me feel legit.
Maybe I’l tell her story tomorrow.