The Creative Soul

There are days when I really feel as though I should give up writing, and go back to school to be a graphic artist. I always wanted to be an artist, a famous one of course! But then I also wanted to be a famous singer. I practiced my songs during my nap times, taking the top little finial from my canopy  and using it for a microphone. That was pretty hazardous when I think back on it, but I don’t recall my mother rushing in to pull me out of a pile of pink cotton and maple slats. And that would have made an impression on me! Although I also remember practicing my artistic drawings on the headboard of that same bed and surviving to tell about it. The metal clip on the back of my barrette made a delightful tool.

My memory drifts through when I was young, about elementary school age.  Art class, drawing, painting, pottery, and anything remotely creative fascinated me. Where ever I was, I would draw what I saw. The place-mats we used at Christmas, the view from the kitchen window, an especially pretty scene while we were out on a family drive. I wanted to transform my visions into reality on paper.

I never did take art classes beyond what I received in public school. I am very thankful for the wonderful teachers I had that encouraged my creativity, and made me aware of contests to enter. A Wilton cake-decorating course and a few pottery classes in my late teens and before children just seemed to entice me further. But then children happened, and the most drawing I did for many years was shaping the letters to form a grocery list.

Oct. 14, 1995

It may seem as though I blame my children for the squelching of my artistic dreams. I don’t. For when I had children, they were also my dream, my goal of a perfect life. I emerged myself in that. And every now and then, we made crafts at Christmas, painted ceramic objects, and built gingerbread houses. The creativity was still there, just in a different form. Enough to know that our children inherited their own creativity in diverse and spectacular ways. And that’s what it’s all about.

Today I spent several hours being creative. I designed a meme for Facebook in honor of Mother’s Day. I also made a couple posters for an event I have for my books on Saturday. I feel refreshed, and able to breathe again. Being creative seems to release pent-up emotions and frustrations in me…and not everyone would understand that.

Dunlap Church Event

Dunlap Craft and Flea Market pricing

What I am most thankful for, are the talents that God has given me. And we all have them. Some people just tap into their talents and gifts more than other people do. Maybe someday, a painting course, or learning more about using the computer for art will be an option for me. But right now, I have so many things that interest me, and I get to dabble in them all. And I like that!

In honor of Mother’s Day, I will include this meme I designed for Facebook. And if any of you have a mind to, please stop by and like my author’s page. I would really appreciate it! Have a fantastic weekend!

Happy Mother's Day


Part Two Rabbit Trail

It’s hard to let go. Does that sentence sound familiar? I’m going to try this again and see if I can stay on track. And speaking of rabbit trails, isn’t that a cute little guy, hanging out in the dunes by the sea?

The Rubyville series is finished. Some say it shouldn’t be, and they want the story to continue. And a very huge part of me agrees, because it’s hard to let go. The Barton family became my family. I lived with them fictionally for 100 years, but in reality, for the past year or so. I was a part of their dinner conversation, what clothes they chose to wear for the day, where they wanted to live, and I prayed with them. I laughed at their antics and I cried along with their losses. And now they are gone! And I feel a huge hole in my life. For those of you that don’t write, please don’t call the white coats. I’m really not crazy…just a writer.

Before I began the Rubyville series, before I wrote that first book of 65,000 words the month of March in 2015, I had another series. This series was near and dear to me for almost twenty years, at that time. I couldn’t even fathom starting another series. I didn’t want to be that close to another group of characters. I couldn’t stop thinking, or talking about that other series. And then along came the Barton family.

So that’s why I began my post yesterday with that sentence. I’m having difficulty letting go, and getting back to that first series. I haven’t visited with that other family in a long time, and I’m nervous about what they are going to think of me. Will I know them like I used to? Will we be friends again, close family that shares everything? Right now, it seems hard to believe. And it’s even scarier to think that this other series may not connect with my readers as the Rubyville series did.

But I have knocked on their door, and I’m waiting on the front porch, exchanging polite conversation until they invite me in, and include me in their lives once again.

I really need to say good-bye to Rubyville. Maybe not forever, but for now. So I’m going to share with you, my visions of the little town in Kansas that became so dear to me. I painted a picture of Rubyville and the Barton home. I used this to construct a little town using my village pieces. With the help of the paint program on my computer, I designed my proof covers for Rubyville. Each book depicts a new season. Here is winter and spring:



And summer and fall:



I absolutely love the covers that did for my books! They are beautiful and I’ve had so many compliments on them. Julia captured the Barton women, and the fact that they were Rubyville, not the town. But I will always have a soft spot for what I picture Rubyville to look like.

Thank you for sticking with me for these two posts! I really appreciate you, my readers. Change is difficult, but I will survive, and I’ll work on being patient in the process. Until next time…