Painting stories is a series where I share my current works. Sometimes it is how they came about. Sometimes it’s more of a story I associate with them.
Some days, the muse and I are at each other’s throats.
Others (these days more often than not) it feels like she’s been dragging me on her back, out of some dark hole of despair, or a sea storm.
I don’t often acknowledge that, but I must now: I do not understand the ways in which my muse goes, but she is always there for me when bad things start to happen. Whenever I feel the stress and anxiety creeping up and trying to swallow me up, she swoops in for the rescue.
It’s not a very straightforward one. I get the urge to knit and paint and write fiction, and I sometimes feel incredibly furious with myself when that happens. I have no time for distractions! I have to get this done NOW!
Little have I understood that not all work can be done by me, and while other people finish their own pressing tasks, I have to find ways to occupy myself. The muse watches and watches and then hurls a volley of distractions.
Inktober. The secret project of summer 2016. These series of blogposts, which I’m writing at a feverish burst of speed at the eve of pre-grading, trying desperately to stay calm. It all saves my sanity, even if to me, it’s all another distraction.
So thank you, Daisy-muse. Thank you.