Inspiration

My work is to inspire... and I think, who am I to be held up as an inspiration ?

In my Tuesday morning class we talked about newness.

"Week two try something new"

How new can be both, exciting and scary.

My new experiences are stepping up and learning about technology. The website,Instagram, Facebook and this blog. I am certainly feeling like an old dog trying to learn new tricks.

Suddenly my creative life is a virtual one. A keyboard instead of a paint brush under my hands.

I think of Neil Gaiman saying "I became a professional email writer."

This Little book I wrote seems so innocent in its paynes grey linen jacket.

How would it be if I just trusted it to fly?

push push push... get it out there the wind whispers and I think where is there?

The critic monster is sneering! They will all find out you are not a real writer or illustrator and as I write this I laugh because I think, who is?

I write words.. I draw pictures. I share them and somewhere, somehow people get it and say YES! that is exactly how I feel and the connection is made.

Back to believing that this is my gift to the world..

and it never goes away this feeling. It is only this feeling that lets me know I am walking on the lonely track into the dark wood with only my little candle for light.

So when people say you are so lucky to be creative. I feel confused as luck has little to do with it.

Choice, tenacity, showing up doing the work, pushing pushing until it is done.

The lucky time is when everything is quiet, when I allow what really wants to come out to come. When the magic dances out of my fingers with little thought.

Creating a time and space with myself. 

This is the creative process I share with others .

www.clairedelaney.net

"Is it still an apple?"

"I cant work!" she frowns
"You do work." he says simply.passing her a large red apple and a knife.
She cuts it open, letting the juice make a little puddle on the wooden board.
"Is it still an apple?" He asks as they look at it all open and exposed.
"Of course..." she knows his game and quickly cuts the seeds out and stuffs half of the apple greedily into her mouth.
"Now its not!" she splutters, her mouth overfull with the fruit.
With sparkling eyes he reaches for the other half and does the same.
They both grin as the sweetness coats their tongues.
"Now theres no apple. "she says.
"There is still an apple, it is simply inside of us now." he replies quietly.
she studies his face, noting the years and slight sadness to his grey eyes.
"Go on," she urges.
"Life needs to be tasted. Preferably savored. we will never remember every apple we ever eat."
"You mean let go?" she asks tentatively.
He nods.
"Let go of how you think things should be and listen to your energy. You have been working hard . It may not have been the work you imagined thats all"

Ramblings

This will be a playful page of storytelling through words and pictures. Mainly quirky observations from my character the Hat man, who is just too intriguing to keep to myself any more.

As my first book "Little Wing " goes live, hear the stories behind the story and see the unraveling of a creative mind.... where anything can happen 

Beginnings!

"Does the story have to start at the beginning?" she mumbles
"A story starts where ever you choose to start it." he simply states.
"Well all the best stories come from the hat!" she giggles,