A few years ago I wrote a 300 page manuscript about enchanted fairytales. I wasn’t painting at the time. In fact, I hadn’t painted in years.
All of my artwork from college had ended up in the basement. I didn’t see any point in painting anymore if I couldn’t do it full-time. I locked away that part of myself.
Yet my creativity bubbled inside. So I started writing my novel.
I’d been working full-time in an office as a web developer when I finished the first draft. I was one of fourteen writers accepted into a writing workshop on the east coast. Afterwards, I flew out to Washington DC to meet with my ideal literary agent.
But then I stopped.
My creative spirit felt paralyzed from all of the writing critiques and criticism. I’d been told (more than once) that my voice was too different. Soon I convinced myself that meant the story inside my heart just wasn’t right.
I’d written a novel that wasn’t truely of my spirit. I stopped myself from letting my own soul fly… and I completely burned out.
To get my spirit back, I returned to what I loved most as a child – spreading my art supplies out on a blanket in the backyard and playing in the sunshine.
I still had my little red plastic lunchbox filled with Crayola crayons. I bought a few of the giant Masonite boards that I loved painting on in college, spread them out in the grass and I painted for the first time in ages.
That’s what started all of my whimsical paintings and blossomed into a career and business I love.
Now, little by little, I’ve come back to writing my fairytale novel. Often times, remembering it’s not so much about creating something perfect or exactly as I see it in my head, helps me to follow my own instincts, so I can feel free and let my true beauty emerge.
I hope it all keeps you inspired!