Writers Who Paint

It's been over four years since I  last posted here. Perhaps you thought I wouldn't be back.

After my last post, I totally dedicated myself to completing my third novel. It had been stewing around, more or less finished, but it didn't feel absolutely right. My heart wasn't quite in it. There was more to say and I didn't have the words.

It has a working title of "Summer Must End". But that wasn't what I really wanted. Without a true, illustrative title, I just couldn't prepare the MS for publication. (Well, that was my excuse for avoiding it.) And so it has been dozing (or comatose) in my hard drive for four years, waiting to be completed. In the meantime, for two of those years, I painted. That took away some of my guilt.

Then I goofed off completely for the last two years. No writing, no painting. I was a slug. I felt like a cheat. But World Affairs did it to me. Until I took charge of me and threw myself, as they say, into my work...which isn't work when you're loving it.

Boadicea is back.

My full explanation for my absence is offered at my art blog, posted on Monday. I cleared the air. I felt better for writing it. I believe it's the way a  lot of us are feeling.

And with nice new paintings listed on a great art sales site, I knew the drought was over for me. I've been bouncing out of bed in the morning, planning my next painting or working on one from the day before. And then, today, a very strange thing happened.

I needed to write again.

Finally I've resurrected that poor novel and started the terrible task of formatting it for printing. I'm editing like crazy as I go, adding/amending things I've thought of during my non-writing time -- some on  little slips of paper, some as notes in my computer.

There is a prepared canvas waiting for me to start -- and I want to start. This time, instead of getting into some sort of seasonal mode -- painting through winter, writing through summer -- I'm going to share them on a regular basis. Painting does stimulate the writing. It's writing without words. As I paint, I have little stories running through my head about the picture. "Why is she there? Who lives in that cottage? Where are those sheep going?" That kind of thing.

Bouncing out of bed in the morning will never be the same.

Now the only thing I have to concentrate on, before I complete that darned manuscript, is getting the right title. I promise I will keep you posted. When I know, you'll know.



It would be so rewarding if you would leave a comment about my re-emergence. (It would also be a good way to find out if the comments button actually works after all this time.)