Sarah sat at the drawing table and looked about the room. She had worked hard to remove the bedroom furniture. Thank goodness it hadn’t involved stairs. The furniture was now waiting in the garage, its fate unknown.
In its place sat a drawing table lined up parallel to the window for the light. Of course it wasn’t the famous ‘northern exposure’ artists were suppose to seek, but Sarah felt fortunate just having a studio, period. In the corner stood a large wooden easel waiting for duty. A few random paint splotches rested on the frame, proving it had been used at least once.
Two shelves sat side by side against one wall holding Sarah’s art books, pads of various sized paper and colored pencils, pastels, all the little supplies one picks up over the years. The overflow sat around the room on the floor.
Sarah turned back to the table and pulled out one of the sharpened pencils from their container. A large piece of paper sat directly in front of her. She looked at its huge blankness. It was so damn white!
She tentatively made a few pencil marks.
Three hours later Sarah still sat at the drawing table, a blank whiteness still staring at her. In the wastepaper basket near her feet were four crumpled pieces of drawing paper. She finally stood up, threw the pencil against the wall and walked out of the room mumbling sarcastically to herself.
“Just follow your passion. What if you don’t have any passion? What then!”
“Just express yourself. Yeah, right… gawd damn it!”
“I’ve been painting since I could pick up a brush, blah blah blah. Well good for you. Aren’t you special!”
When she reached the end of the short hall the sarcasm was gone. Sarah went into the kitchen. “Well, I think I can fix dinner okay… but we’ll have to wait and see, won’t we.”
She opened the freezer and grabbed a TV dinner.
This is an entry to Magpie Tales' weekly challenge. You should go check it out here.
17 comments:
G'day, CC. Good Magpie. I know that feeling - totally white - when you have to wait for the muse to return from wherever she's gone. I enjoyed reading it.
I talk to myself a lot, too.
From mind to hand - may there always be a connection! It hurts physically when it just doesn't bond. Perhaps tomorrow!
Omgosh I had writters block in my tale... just that pot of pencils ready to go must be just too much,
Good tale
Christine
that inner critic will kill anything it can!
i hope she told it to go away for good.
Really enjoyed this one. Love the line, "a blank whiteness still staring at her." :-)
lol....a love a little twist...! Actually, I often talk (and sing) to myself.
Where would we be without TV dinners? The mildly deprecating way you've written Sarah's trials fit well with most of us who try to find our niche! Wonderful.
I have so been there... At least the tv dinner would afford her some time to go back in and give it another go...
smiles. i have found inspiration to hit when i give up trying so hard...perhaps hers wil find her...
Excellent Magpie.....
Just love your take on these titles.
Know that feeling of wadded paper in the basket.
funny, you saw drawing...I saw writing
follow your heart...
nice take on this magpie
my least inspired writing is when I have to actually think of something to write and try too hard-this past week or so for example. Great Magpie!
another good use of a pencil; popping air holes into the TV dinner covering..nice magpie!
Dear Crusty Crone: A very excellent and humorous mag! Very conceptually descriptive of the "struggling artist". A study of the atelier. To have a space to call one's own can be both exhilarating and compoundedly frustrating. How to start, when to make that first, what should it be; brushstroke, pencil line, etc? When it doubt; grab a Swanson dinner and think about it! I totally get this! :)Smiles!
Oh, the mere thought of a TV dinner would send me right back to the drawing board ~ with greater resolve. Enjoyed your Magpie!
i am totally intrigued by this! great story! i wonder what was in her TV dinner?
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