I've been dreading the pen for a long time now. Paper pulp helped to ease the slump. But every time I thought of returning to illustration, there would be cotton in my head. Then I spent some time volunteering at SCC with patients dealing with mental health issues, and rediscovered something that had been lost. They love drawing new things. They love putting it up for people to see. They love giving their drawings away. This all made me very ashamed of my false modesty. I have been sitting with them, learning to draw again.
And this happened in the last few days:
Now I look forward to pockets of free time when I can draw. Because I simply enjoy drawing girls and fashion, and there is nothing wrong with that. I can enjoy drawing again. I can enjoy sharing my work again. That freedom is like finding my roots again.