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Me, Being Artistic

{inspired by this lovely post}
I made this a few days ago. At first, it bugged me that the "s" is a smidge too far to the left, and that the "y" is weird. But, after awhile, the thing as a whole started growing on me.
I made something, I thought. And I think it's beautiful. Because I made it.
I don't really have any talent with paints or pastels or pencils (yes, even pencils. My handwriting is terrible, and as for my drawing skills...well. We won't go there). But I had so much fun making this. My hand shook for the most part, but once I got used to forming the letters after I practiced on newspaper, it came a little bit more easily.
It's not perfect. No, it's definitely not perfect. But I made it. I created it. And because of that, and because of what it stands for, I will cherish it and keep it on my wall.

Bekah Joan


  1. I understand perfectly. My handwriting is so bad when I was a teenager my dad would ask me to print instead of writing cursive so he could actually read the notes I would leave him. I've tried to draw but the pencil never does what I tell it to. I'd love to create visual art, but I never feel like I have the eye for it. But whenever I do make something, no matter how off it may be, it makes me happy because I have put something concrete out into the world, something that can stand distinct from me.

    I think this is important for writers to do because so often what we create spends so much time as words on a page and electrons on a hard drive. Sometimes I just want the rush of starting and finishing something in a relatively short amount of time that becomes an object, a thing to be looked at and appreciated.


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