So I actually decided to break out a real (as opposed to virtual) drawing pad and pencil and do some work. Correction, I went with pens instead of a pencil -- namely ball point and Micron Pigma pens. I love using these two kinds of pens for drawing. There's just something about the feel of a really smooth ball point pen; it gives just the right amount of resistance without being too damn stubborn to draw with. And it's the perfect medium for doodling. I was going to just go with the ball point for today's drawing, but the pen I was using wasn't giving me quite a dark enough line for some of what I was doing, so I broke out the Microns. I love Microns for inking cartoons and comics. Yes, I have actually drawn cartoons and comics. At one point, in college, I drew a twice a week strip for the college newspaper. It was great! I did it for four years. Then I sort of... stopped drawing. Why? Why did I give it up?
Sometimes I like to blame my parents for my failure to pursue my art. Dad refused to let me major in art, because he said I'd never be able to make a living at it. Ironically, the highest paying job I ever had was as a graphic artist, and I made pretty good money, although the job was so stressful it just about killed me and so I eventually quit. And most of the money I make these days is off of art. It's not a lot of money, but just think of what I could make if I really pushed myself to do more art. I could be making some dough, I tell you.
Anyway, Dad wouldn't let me major in art. And Mom never really seemed to understand why or what I was drawing. She was the one I always showed my stuff to, and her comment was always the same. "That's nice, honey." I wonder how many budding artists were killed by the words, "That's nice, honey"?
So yeah, I could blame my parents for not letting me major in art and for not being enthusiastic supporters of what I wanted to do. I could, but then I'd be forgetting the biggest culprit in this whole mess -- me. I was the one who stopped putting pencil to paper. I was the one who quit cartooning after I finished college. I was the one who let myself get sucked into 3D computer graphics but failed to continue honing my drawing skills. And none of that is my parents fault at all. It's mine, pure and simple.
I turned 39 yesterday. I already mentioned this blog is a birthday present to me. Five years ago, on my 34th birthday (just a few days after my first child was born), I got bit by the overwhelming urge to write. And so I wrote. Everyday. For five years. And now I'm a writer with a portfolio of work and a reputation in my chosen genre. I'm not hugely famous, but if you read erotica, you **might** have heard of me. And there are things happening in my writing career that make me think maybe in another ten years or so, I just might be famous.
Five years of writing did that. And I started with almost nothing as a writer back then. What could five years of drawing do? I'm looking forward to finding out.
Here's today's drawing. You can see the warm up scribbling I did up top, with a doodle of an angel/heart. It's February, which makes me think of Valentines and hearts, so that's the theme I went with. Enjoy.