(Or An Alliterative Throwing-In of the Towel)
John Howe writes: Every now and then, a person just gets too busy to think. So, I confess. The following is an admission of failure – and a newsletter with little or nothing to say. (Which, it must be said in passing, has never been a reason sufficient to shut me up.) Am currently working on writing and illustrating two books and (distractedly) researching a third. Suddenly taking the time to write something else than what will go in one or the other seems no only unreasonable but treasonable. (This business of author-illustrator is rather like taking on two jobs at once.) An unexpected side-effect of writing a non-fiction book was that I naturally end up buying dozens of reference books, which all ended up stacked everywhere they could stack, until, finally fed up with stumbling over and bumping into piles of the things, new shelves seemed the only solution. I don’t know about you, but in this household, modest unassuming projects gradually assume colossal proportions and I ended up building a full wall of shelves. The books went in (there’s even still room, but rapidly shrinking) and suddenly a particular patch of wall seemed to call out for more home carpentry, so a drawing pulpit got itself made. Read the rest here…
