When I was younger, I was far more creative than I am now. Is this because the creative muse has left me? No, not at all. I've just let myself get rusty. The muse is not silent - just briefly muted.
I dug around and found a hardbound sketchbook I had bought in Illinois back in 1996 (or before). When I purchased the thing at Border's (or was it Barnes and Noble?), I set it aside. I preferred spiral-bound sketchbooks - they open up wider and are far easier to use.
Today, after a decade - and with one page filled in 1996 with lousy scribbles (simply a test of a new drawing pen, not any sort of artistic expression) - I began creating in this old discarded sketchbook. My goal is to fill it by the end of the year with ideas, drawings, writings, doodlings, noodlings, impressions, expressions and all manner of creative output.
I have a vague notion of what this book will be when finished. I have a feeling it will end up something totally different.
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