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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1062820
Rated: 18+ · Book · Mystery · #2046985
Writing, scribbling, etc.
#1062820 added January 22, 2024 at 8:21pm
Restrictions: None
MB Magic - THEME 3: HOBBY OR CRAFT
Activity Information and Prompt:

In the second grade my teacher laughed at my drawing. I drew a river flowing quietly, a small beach on one side, the rocky shape of a mountain looming above it on the other. I did the best I could with the colors provided. But she laughed. Showed the drawing to the entire class, then said for me to sit down. She gave me the worst grade possible and seemed satisfied with herself. As a shy, little girl, that memory had stayed with me. Not every teacher is supportive.

Drawing had never been my calling. Even a stick figure looked back at me in question, wondering what possible disaster I might plan for it. However, I loved images and pictures. The creativity behind them. The random colors mixed together creating works of art. That someone can take a simple pencil, put it to work on a blank canvas, and create a masterpiece fascinated me.

Over the years I bought different paints, brushes, charcoal pencils, numerous books filled with blank pages only to stare back at me and whisper the one thing I've feared since I was a child. You can't do it. You're not talented enough. Don't start something you can't finish. Your teacher was right.

Perhaps she was and I had no talent to speak of, but the need to create grew ever stronger over the years. It never let go. When I joined the site for writers, I found a kindred soul who created art out of random pictures. To say that I was fascinated is an understatement! I ordered, looked, snooped, maybe even stalked a certain shop for a while, just to admire her creations. Then, a thought struck me. It made me realize that she didn't draw either. Didn't put pencil to blank paper to create wonders, but rather combined images to make something I felt drawn to.

Graphic design programs were easy to find as long as you paid for it. Learning how to operate them had been a different matter, but I studied. Every day, like a good little student that I used to be, memorizing everything possible, accepting my limitations. I searched and saved images, looked inside every nook and cranny, collecting, like a little savage that I still am, random images that speak to me. The cute little bear, the vicious Viking, the secretive witch... And the witch called my name. Whispered it at night, echoed it inside my soul. Gave me the courage to at least try and work with images. I may not have what it takes to call myself an artist but graphic design? A scene or a story in pictures opened a completely new world to me. A place where my moods reflect in the scenes I create.

While writing draws the stories from my mind, working with designs sings a song deep within my soul. The shy, little girl still has her doubts, but the witch in me is fierce and protective. She keeps that child close for all the past years and years to come, as a reminder, but also to say that no matter what, no matter who, to do what you desire most. To follow your dreams even if not a single soul believes in you.

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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/entry_id/1062820