when words fail me, which is often, I paint. When words work for me and are available on time, I am surprised.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Lately I have been beating myself up about my inferiority in this Blog world. There are so many fantastic writers out there. Two summers ago I took a creative writing class in our community college. I am learning to write fiction. My Blog is not yet revealing my dreams which are continuously proving to be quite intuitive and at times terrifying. I ran into my writing teacher on the downtown mall a few months ago; I was carrying a painting I had just finished of Wiley when he was a baby. I showed it to Mark, my teacher. He said, "I wish I could paint." I said, "I wish I could write." He did not suggest that I could, so. . . here is my most recent self portrait.