Despite the fact that I’ve always considered myself a “fine artist.” I find this revelation something of … well … a revelation! Not that I’ve anything against illustrators, far from it. I adore illustration. I’ve just never thought I could ever the take words and thoughts of another person and form a reasonable visual depiction.
apparently, i can.
Now, the only real “illustration” I’ve done is for my husband’s book, The Evil Gazebo. Of course, I can barely count this as real since I did the illustrations for my husband. But others have seen otherwise. I am now illustrating a story for a friend. She liked what I did for Brni and asked if I’d do the illustrations for her upcoming novella.
I am a fish drowning in water! I do not know how to swim and breath at the same time. Now, I’ve done other “illustrations” for various jobs I’ve held, but they were part of the job. Well, part of the job as in, “You know how to draw? So, will you do our seasonal brochures and our monthly displays and while you’re at it, our graphics department dropped the ball and we need a poster and flyers by the end of the day,” which to my mind is not the job of a real illustrator.
I’m doing another book. I’m getting pennies for the work, but it’s interesting and it keeps me drawing and I can finally say, I’m drawing with a purpose rather than wasting time.
Noto bene: I never thought I was wasting time drawing, but my father made sure to let me know that I was.