Going through a forgotten portfolio, I came upon this painting. What I remembered was working on it for many months, and then showing it to my (not very pleasant) housemate at the time. She looked at it and didn't say a thing.

So I figured it wasn't any good. And I didn't even like her!

Now I find it and say, 'wow!' I guess I need to learn not to listen to unpleasant people. Why has it taken me so long to figure this out?

Think of all the people in your life (including your inner critic) who in so many ways tell you it's no good and might as well give up. Now take a big eraser and erase them all!

Then find a critique group (or other supportive people) who want to consider what's good about what you're doing (and help you figure out what needs to be changed.) Surround yourself with people who believe in you and want you to succeed. And when you find them... or if you found them already.. give them a big hug.

Because we do need to believe in ourselves. But it's also great to have other people who do, too. (thank you, Secret Gardeners!)

I was lucky enough to attend the SCBWI Carolinas conference this weekend-- with some of my fellow Secret Gardeners! (you know who you are)

Of course I drew some of the presenters--
pictured here (roughly sketched):
Alan Gratz, wonderful (local!) author
Liz Waniewski, Senior Editor, Dial Books
-- also awesome and sweet!
Alvina Ling, Senior Editor,
Little, Brown Books
-- so funny and smart (and prettier than my sketch!)

I would have drawn the talented and fun Elizabeth Dulemba or the charming and handsome Laurent Linn, Art Director at Simon & Schuster, BUT they kept showing us these fascinating images, so I had to keep my gaze upward...

BUT during the other presentations, sketching seemed unavoidable. Like crossing and uncrossing my legs. My hands seem to want to keep moving. It's almost annoying. And I worried about being distracting (or annoying) to other attendees.
(at least I stopped rattling my candy wrapper when you told me to, Donna!)

I don't want to be a compulsive person (she says, rolling and unrolling a scrap of paper) but maybe crazy-hands is part of being an artist. (horrors!)

hey, at least I'm not robbing banks.

How do you direct your crazy energy (when you're not at your computer/in your studio) Were you the one with the candy wrapper sitting right behind me? Don't worry; I understand.

apologies for not doing that linking thing w/ everyone's name-- can someone tell me how to? You definitely should check out Alan Gratz's great books!

The Hunger Games and Catching Fire were a big part of my summer. Suzanne Collins is so brilliant, and I aspire to be some fraction of the storyteller she is. I don't have a copy of Mockingjay yet :( Go ahead and pity me. But I am #9 on the waiting list of my local library. :(

Also loved Clay Carmichael's Wild Things. She does a great job of making a stray cat a very real (and complex) character. Plus I like her drawings.

And I actually read two grown-up books this summer. The first was The Memory Keepers Daughter, because I'm always behind the times in my reading list. Awesome and amazing.

And I caved and read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, because my mother-in-law left it at our house and his books are taking up a huge section of Malaprops, my favorite local bookstore.

Before I started reading, I asked my MIL if it was very violent and she said 'not really' so I went for it. In fact, it's extremely violent, especially by my wimpy standards. I think I'll stick to YA and MG from now on. Or maybe I'll just read picture books (my daughter and I are currently re-reading the Traction Man books by Mini Grey, which I think are my favorite contemporary pbs.)

BUT, you might say, Hunger Games is also violent. I can't deny you are right about that. So why do I love them? Of course, they are disturbing books. But also strangely uplifting--- because I believe Katniss and all the good people will prevail in the end? Maybe also because, as futuristic novels, I can read them as metaphor and therefore the violence is a little more distant.

Do you know what I mean? Do you stick with YA? And what did you read this summer?

Today. I hung around awhile, then asked my daughter, "Do you want me to stay?"

"Whatever you want," she said.

She was at the table with all her little friends happily decorating her math folder. The girls were drawing flowers, spirals and rainbows.

You want your kid to be independent. And then she's independent and suddenly you have a hollow feeling in your stomach.

Another parenting dilemma. Is this worse than the terrible threes? (probably not)

But what am I going to do when she wants to go to college? Just say no?

The good news is: I'm in this month's SCBWI Bulletin!
I love the Bulletin! I love SCBWI (Society of Children's Book Writers & Illustrators)
I love owls!
Looks like he's surprised to be the subject of a story.
I hope it's not a case of libel.

How's your summer going?

I've got one thing to say about this issue: don't believe everything a kid in a red hood tells ya.

Additionally, I miss blogging! Summer fun is sucking up all my time and energy. The sun is frying my brain.

Also, when will school be back in session?

Plus, I guess I need a little structure.

Hope everyone else is enjoying this free-for-all we call summer. :)

We were in Florida for a week. It was way too hot, of course, but thankfully I brought some drawing materials.

And I asked this fourteen-year-old girl, our friends' daughter, if she would pose for me. We sat in the SandBar at Club Med for over an hour. She seemed to like the completed drawing. And I got to draw someone other than myself.

A vacation from self-portraits!

I asked her if she read blogs. Yes, she said, mostly political ones.

Isn't that great?

So, go ahead, artists. Ask someone if you can draw them. They'll probably enjoy it. And you might just learn something new and unexpected about a person.

I've been submitting to agents and trying to figure out why it feels so different from submitting to publishers.

I think it's because it feels like you're trying to get someone to be your friend.

Dear Agent,

I'm a great person and fairly brilliant. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about. My mom thinks so, too! Should you become my agent, I'll send you the best chocolates daily. I've been specializing in chocolate for the past forty years, so I know which ones are the most delicious. Believe me, I know what I'm talking about.

Your new best friend,
Me!

Maybe that's the letter I should be sending out (along with this endearing painting)

The process has me thinking of a silly poem I wrote awhile ago, of which I believe I shall print an excerpt here now (cue the schmaltzy background music)

Please consider my book,
(in your slush pile, unread.)
I’d like to get it published
some time before I’m dead.

Ever feel like that, too?

Who wants to read a blog about the weather? Not me. Not you. And certainly not me.

But, gee, it's awful hot lately. You forget what it's like in the dead of winter and you're dying for summer to hurry up and get here. (and now I can hardly remember winter. It's not that cold, is it? I mean, you can always bundle up)

It's so hot my brain is bubbling in my overheated brain fluid inside my whatchamacallit. Hard to think, is what I'm saying.

So I figured it's time for something that's just plain silly.

And a cat in boots reading Puss in Boots while waiting for the D train is pretty darn silly.

Got something silly to share?

Go ahead. Make my day!

This is from 1999 and I think I was looking at Lucian Freud alot. I was also living in Brooklyn and visiting the Metropolitan Museum of Art, The Brooklyn Museum of Art, MOMA, all those amazing places that now seem mega-miles away.

Someone recently hired me to do this illustration. She saw my other work, she visited my website, she liked what she saw, we met and clicked right away. She wanted a mermaid and sea creatures. I love mermaids and the ocean. Perfect subjects for watercolor, which I love. All good.

So where did that voice come from that kept telling me I couldn't do it? My parents always encouraged me. I've always been told by teachers, mentors and peers that I'm a good artist. My art has been exhibited in a bunch of art shows (in NYC!), I've sold a bunch of paintings, I've worked as a professional illustrator before. So where did that voice come from?

I know you all know what I'm talking about. Because I've read about it before. From writers and artists much more successful than myself.

But it makes me mad. Does it make you mad?

Because I do believe in myself and my work. And I do love this finished illustration. But I also hear some little part of myself telling myself, 'you got lucky this time, but it probably won't happen again."

It's not luck! It's years of hard work. And talent. And passion. Yes I Can!

Could it be that we need to hear that voice to spur us forward? Nah, I don't believe that. I think I could have worked as well (or better!) if the voice was saying, "You're a great artist! Trust yourself! Keep going!" Actually, I did hear that, too. The voices were going back and forth in my head. It was pretty annoying. Listening to a Harry Potter audiobook helped a little.

Will I stop hearing the voice of negativity once I've illustrated a picture book for a major publishing house. Or five? Ten?

Those of you who are out there already, writers and illustrators, with several published books to your name, tell me, does it go away?

I received my BFA in Illustration in 1985. Then moved to NYC and took classes at the Art Students League of NY with Marshall Glasier, a very brilliant and talented artist who did not see illustration as art.

Not to scandalize all my illustrator friends, whom I admire and respect, but I understood his point. Art is where you can make anything you want in any way you want. Illustrators work within parameters: of the text or the concept or whatever your client is looking for. Of course lots of amazing art happens within those parameters (Beatrix Potter! William Steig!) But there is a difference.

I gave up on being an illustrator so I could be a 'real' artist. I painted in the lonesomeness of my studio, which was usually just a corner of my bedroom. I took lots more classes. Did alot of figure drawing and self-portraits. Morphed into an abstract painter. And had a kid.

And rediscovered picture books. Drew my kid. Decided I'd like to get paid for what I do well (instead of working as a secretary, teacher's aide, jeweler's assistant, and on and on) So I bought a new set of rapidographs (and they did look beautiful to my eyes) and put together a portfolio. Starting to get some work. Featured on the wonderful Pen & Palette. Have several illustrations in the SCBWI Bulletin.

So what am I now? A painter who is delving into illustration? An illustrator who used to be an abstract painter? A little bit of both, I guess. I have to admit, I do miss dripping and throwing paint onto canvas (I suppose I could do that in my illustrations, but it's not the same-- art serves its own purpose, unlike illustration)

You might disagree with me. That happens sometimes. You may believe there is no difference between fine art and illustration. I think there is a difference-- for example, most illustrators I know who've been working for a good number of years and have talent, get paid for what they do, at least sometimes. Unlike most of the painters I know.

So go ahead and tell me why I'm wrong, if you want. Or you can just enjoy the picture.

There were many adorable kittens, tabby and orange and black, at the shelter that day. Myrtle was three years old. Not what you'd call a beautiful cat, with a coat we didn't know what to call (somebody suggested 'brindle' which does not sound very nice)

She did not say a word. Just looked at me with these big eyes that said, "I do not want to be here. Take me home and I promise I'll be a very good cat."

Myrtle has been true to her word. She's cuddly and sweet, sleeps with us and curls in your lap when you call. I think she even knows her name (unlike some cats I know!) She lets Madeline pick her up and carry her around the house. And she never says, "Hey, Constance, have you heard from any agents or editors yet?"

I know I'm not the first to say this, but I could learn alot from Myrtle. How to laze around. How to do some lovely stretches (even down dog!) How to look at people with big irresistible eyes so they'll take you home and feed you.

What have you learned from your cat (or dog, if you're that kind of person?)

I love the ocean. I grew up on Long Island and going to the beach has always been my favorite thing to do. Jones Beach, Brighton Beach, Coney Island and all the lovely (cold) beaches in San Francisco. I miss the ocean, now that we live in the mountains in Asheville.

Maybe I was a mermaid in a former life. Communing with the dolphins. Wearing a shell and seaweed bra. Shooting through the waves like a non-human cannonball.

When I was little, I had a book of The Little Mermaid with one of those covers where the mermaid changed as you tilted the book one way, then the other, then the other way, then back again. Which I spent alot of time in a mermaid-induced hypnotic trance doing. Plus it had ridges to run your fingers over.

So now I've written a tween novel about a girl who becomes a mermaid against her will. My character is her own person. What? Of course, she's not me. I was never a mermaid. Not in this life, anyway.

A friend asked me which Disney princess I wanted to be when I was little. Why do I hardly remember any of those movies (and why don't any of those princesses have noses?) Maybe because we hardly ever went to the movies (too expensive) We went to the beach (free) Hooray for my childhood!

And, of course, The Little Disney Mermaid came out when I was all grown up. And even now, I don't want to be her. I want to be Hans Christian Andersen's Little Mermaid, beautiful and tragic and turned to sea foam in the end.

So what kind of princess are you?

How dishevelled I look! How worn out! Almost fading away, like the wicked witch at the end of the W of Oz. This drawing is dated April 2004. Madeline was one year and two months old.

When I was pregnant, so many parents said, "You'll never sleep again." Of course I thought they were exaggerating. Well, my daughter is now seven and she still often wakes me up at 6:25 with a loud, "There were aliens in my dream, mom!"
At least she's no longer nursing. And she's almost sleeping through the night.

I miss sleeping until 9 or even later sometimes. Such a foggy happy memory from the distant past.

So should I look forward to the teenage years when she'll sleep more? Or will I be lying in bed awake with other worries?

Parenting is quite an adventure, isn't it? What are you struggling with? How do you express your creativity around those issues?

You may already know that I didn't do this wonderful painting. No, this one is by Albrecht Durer. Why do I love this painting? Is it because of the amazing attention to detail? This rabbit (or Young Hare) is as dignified as a king, as serious as the Pope.

And now it's illustrating my blog! to say The Rabbit Is Back. The one who scurries and scampers and munches grass in the yard outside my dining room window. We breakfasted (?) together this morning. Yesterday I watched him (or her) being chased by a cat. The rabbit was faster, of course.

Not that I never saw these kind of backyard animal shows in Brooklyn. I once saw my cat fighting a praying mantis, which definitely goes on my list of Strangest Sights Ere I Have Witnessed.

I stepped outside early this morning and so many birds were busy doing their bird-things. Mockingbirds, robins, sparrows, mourning doves.
Another post about spring. I can't help it, I'm so happy that terrible winter is over.
I bet you are too!

Who is that tough broad?

Okay, it's not the cover of the Rollin' Stone, which I'm beginning to think I may never be on! But it is the SCBWI Carolinas wonderful newsletter, and I'm proud to be featured on the cover. Check it out if you are so inclined:
http://scbwicarolinas.org/Pen-and-Palette