So I've dropped Karen at work and Molly at School and I'm heading into town to browse the bookshops and have myself a large cappucino and I'm thinking about the organic veg delivery that comes on fridays from Riverford. And I'm thinking about carrots and snowmen and school dinners and vegetables when inspiration hits me over the head so hard my vision goes squiffy and I have to pull the car over.
So I have my cappucino and a raspberry bakewell and still inspiration is rolling around in my head. So I go look around waterstones children's section and there's nothing there like the idea in my head so I drive home and set up my drawing board. Two and a half hours later I have a 16 page story laid out sketched in reasonable detail and all the text written down.
To put it mildly I'm in fucking shock!!! Inspiration hasn't hit me this hard and this fully formed since before I got myself married. I was beginning to wonder if there was something about being married that just didn't agree with inspiration. And there ain't. I can be married, happy, a father and still be creative. It just needs peace and quiet.
I don't know if the story's any good. I like it and if nothing else it'll make a good Christmas card for some small family members.
God it feels good to draw with a purpose other than the act itself.