I used to draw… a lot. It was one of my favorite pastimes as a child. I remember climbing the giant magnolia tree next to my house and sitting in its branches. I’d perch in my favorite spot and use a system rigged with a basket and rope to haul up a load of notebooks, pencils and crayons. I’d spend what felt like hours writing stories and poems, then drawing and coloring my illustrations.

As I grew older, the drawing became confined to the sides of my paper when I was taking notes for classes. My biology notes were decorated with doodles of animals and nature, the math notes were surrounded by shapes and angles, while the English notes were adorned with story characters. These scribbles were the way my brain worked, processing new information as I moved through school.

When I became an adult, I found ways in my various jobs to use my artistic talents. I created window displays at the bookstore, flyers at the recreation center and posters for my classroom walls. As a teacher, I spent the summers carefully planning out what my classroom theme would be and drawing my own posters and signs to go along. I loved it!

But over the years, I spent less time drawing and more time lesson-planning and creating digital materials for my students. It could be argued that I used my creativity in other ways, and yes, I guess I did. I still encouraged my students to doodle and draw to process their own learning. However, my own creativity slowly dried up in the demands on my time. My personal efforts to create art were rushed and less fulfilling to my soul.

When I left the classroom, I took time to find myself again. To find my creativity. To find my own inspiration. As a writer, I have enjoyed pouring my imagination into my work. With every word, every chapter, I felt like my heart was lifting. I finished my first book, and it sat here in my computer awhile. It was waiting, and I wasn’t sure what it was holding on for.

Then it dawned on me. My main character, Maggie, is an eleven-year-old artist. She carries a sketchbook everywhere and draws everything. My book was waiting on her artwork. It was waiting on me to reconnect with my forgotten eleven-year-old artistic self.

So, I went and got myself a sketchbook for the first time in years, and I started drawing. At the same time, I researched free online digital art programs that I could use with my Chromebook. Now, did I know anything about creating digital art? Ha! No.

I found ibisPaint and began playing with uploading the drawings from my sketchbook into my computer. Once I figured that out, I learned how to turn my pencil sketches into simple illustrations that I could put into my formatted manuscript on Atticus.

I still have a great deal to learn, and the drawing started out pretty rusty, but wow! I am having so much fun! I can’t believe that I’d forgotten how much I love to draw. I’m having a blast creating Maggie’s artwork for her story, and I can’t wait to share it soon.

My inner eleven-year-old artist is thrilled to be creating again. Now, I wonder if I have any good trees around here to climb?