I've been feeling kind of odd lately about switching my creative energy to bead-making. I love it, and yet it's weird, because I've considered myself a fiction writer for most of my life. (Well, except for the period when I was an actress, but that's another saga altogether.)
I'd made my peace with it over the last week or so, mostly as a result of re-reading Colleen Hubbard's book Big Purple Mommy: Nurturing Our Creative Work, Our Children, and Ourselves She discusses being a mother who creates, in whatever form that takes. In that book, I heard the similarities between writers and artists and actors and dancers, and I realized I didn't have to choose--absolutely--what kind of creator I am. I am, simply, one who must create. Something.
And tonight I got a wonderful reminder that switching my energy to visual arts for a time doesn't negate my writing. I just got a contract for a sketch script I submitted to Drama Ministry over a year ago. Somehow, it confirms everything. Yes, I am an artist. And a writer. And an actress. As well as a wife and mother and woman. I use my creativity to shape the world around me.
It's coming out beautifully.