Good morning, Readers!
So Friday was a fantastic day. I basically spent the whole time painting... digitally, but it still counts. I wish I could show off my latest work today, but alas, despite 6+ hours of work, I'm nowhere near finished. I'm probably about two thirds done? Maybe a bit less.
I'm disappointed because I'm really, really pleased with how this one is turning out, and I really want to share it with all of you. It looks better than I thought it would when I started the project. I was fairly nervous about it, because it's quite an ambitious piece. As of now, I'm pleasantly surprised by how well it's turned out thus far. We'll see how I feel when I'm finished.
Alas, I won't be finished until this coming Friday, probably, as today marks day one of me taking up Daughters of Britain once more. As always, with my being away from the writing for so long, I'm not certain I'll be able to pick it up with ease. I have a couple of things that I need to change, so I might be getting rid of a fair amount of stuff I've already written. That's always upsetting, if entirely necessary.
I might be in tears by the end of today.
We'll see.
Isn't weird how nervous I get when I begin anything? It's odd that I get nervous when I pick up my digital paintbrush (stylus. It's called a stylus) and sit before the digital canvas. There is no one watching me do this thing. Yet I still get the clammy palms and rapid heartbeat that signals nerves. The same for writing. There is no one there to watch me tap away at the keyboard. For good reason. I imagine it would be the most boring thing in the world to watch. Still, I get really nervous about the whole sitting down in front of my word processor for the first time (or second time after a prolonged break).
I'm not sure why this happens, but I'm fairly certain that it's because I'm scared that I'll be a disappointment - to myself, to my readers, but mostly to myself. I expect big things of myself; so big, in fact, that I routinely fall short of the mark. It's probably not the healthiest way to be, but when I do hit that mark, I feel so good. So, so good.
Still, because I have this tendency to psych myself out, I'm tempted not to write today. I'm very tempted to disappear inside my painting again. IT's a legitimate excuse. But no! I must be disciplined! I must get to writing.
Who knows? Perhaps it will turn out to be easy as pie.
Fingers crossed!
But first, Welsh!
Ciao!
I'm disappointed because I'm really, really pleased with how this one is turning out, and I really want to share it with all of you. It looks better than I thought it would when I started the project. I was fairly nervous about it, because it's quite an ambitious piece. As of now, I'm pleasantly surprised by how well it's turned out thus far. We'll see how I feel when I'm finished.
Alas, I won't be finished until this coming Friday, probably, as today marks day one of me taking up Daughters of Britain once more. As always, with my being away from the writing for so long, I'm not certain I'll be able to pick it up with ease. I have a couple of things that I need to change, so I might be getting rid of a fair amount of stuff I've already written. That's always upsetting, if entirely necessary.
I might be in tears by the end of today.
We'll see.
Isn't weird how nervous I get when I begin anything? It's odd that I get nervous when I pick up my digital paintbrush (stylus. It's called a stylus) and sit before the digital canvas. There is no one watching me do this thing. Yet I still get the clammy palms and rapid heartbeat that signals nerves. The same for writing. There is no one there to watch me tap away at the keyboard. For good reason. I imagine it would be the most boring thing in the world to watch. Still, I get really nervous about the whole sitting down in front of my word processor for the first time (or second time after a prolonged break).
I'm not sure why this happens, but I'm fairly certain that it's because I'm scared that I'll be a disappointment - to myself, to my readers, but mostly to myself. I expect big things of myself; so big, in fact, that I routinely fall short of the mark. It's probably not the healthiest way to be, but when I do hit that mark, I feel so good. So, so good.
Still, because I have this tendency to psych myself out, I'm tempted not to write today. I'm very tempted to disappear inside my painting again. IT's a legitimate excuse. But no! I must be disciplined! I must get to writing.
Who knows? Perhaps it will turn out to be easy as pie.
Fingers crossed!
But first, Welsh!
Ciao!
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