Back from New Zealand and Filling the Well

 

Auckland, New Zealand and the 40-storey high rise
I called home for six weeks. Waving from Floor 24! 

Hello, Everyone! I'm finally back in Albuquerque and the high desert after six amazing weeks staying ("luxuriating" might be the better term) in downtown Auckland, NZ.

Until today, I haven't blogged for weeks. Months. It wasn't intentional. Before I left home I had all kinds of sincere plans to keep posting and sharing my life down under, but the truth is that after only a few days in my lovely apartment I decided I was on vacation. 

Instead of blogging--or any other kind of writing for that matter--I spent my time visiting wonderful friends, going to the movies, shopping at every bookstore I could find (I ended up bringing home a total of ten paperbacks. "Heavy" doesn't begin to describe my carry-on load.), eating at incredible restaurants (NZ food is still the best in the world), exploring Auckland's very clean and very green neighborhoods, and yes, sketching every chance I could with a small watercolor set I bought at the art museum. 

The sketchbook I used was one I found in a great little stationery store called Typo which appealed to me not just because of the name, but for what they carried, too. I managed to fill the entire book with my impressions including a day trip to Bethell's Beach (my husband's favorite childhood hang-out) where some Buddhist monks were also admiring the scenery.

Just a few miles outside of downtown . . .

I couldn't eat of enough of these.

Rain or shine, I never tired of the view.

 

A long time ago--decades ago--Auckland was home. New Zealand is where I finished high school, attended the university, got my first job, and most especially, it's where I met my husband. It's also where I became deeply influenced by the country's art--especially ceramics--as well as the literature, music, film making, and overall sense of "do-it-yourself." When I stop to think about it, I really have to say that without New Zealand there's no "me," nor is there any of my writing starting with my YA novel Better Than Perfect set in suburban Auckland. Without New Zealand, I don't think I would ever have ventured into art, beading, and pottery. New Zealand set the stage for the rest of my life, even being the reason I ended up in Albuquerque thanks to my husband's own unique business brand originating in, where else, but New Zealand.

But regardless of the past and all it means to me, returning wasn't easy. I had been gone for a long time, and Auckland has changed so much it took me several confused weeks to even know where I was. One of the strangest things was I had completely forgotten that Auckland is built on a series of hills and that walking anywhere can often feel like mountain-climbing. More than once, puffing my way home with an armful of books and groceries, I couldn't help but marvel at how strong I must have been in the "old days." Not once as a student had I ever thought it was difficult, or unusual, to run up and down numerous ravines to get to a lecture or to meet with friends for lunch in the park.

Besides feeling that I was on some kind of endurance test just to buy a sandwich, I couldn't help but also feel a genuine sadness at how much of the past had disappeared. Beloved shops and buildings had not only been demolished, but the buildings and businesses replacing them were light years away from my memories. Where there had once been shops selling gumboots and sheepskins I now found Prada and Tiffany's, Dior and Ferrari. Very fancy, very international, but oh, how I longed for the innocence and simplicity of the past when we only had one television channel and talked all night over a jug of beer rather than cocktails. I hope I didn't become too boring with my constant questioning: "Where is . . .?" "When did they go out of business?" "Where can I get a lamington and an asparagus roll? You know, afternoon tea?" 

Oh, well. Enjoy the new and go with the flow. And I finally, after a lot of searching, did find a lamington during a visit to the sugar factory. Yum!

A difficult choice between raspberry or chocolate. 
Both with the obligatory cream and coconut.

To prove I did more than look for cake, here are some other highlights:

Loved taking the ferries to cross the harbor.

As well as the places the boats landed,
e.g., Waiheke Island for lunch.

Coming back to town. Queen Street view
from the Ferry Terminal (pictured below).

My daily route on the way to buy groceries,
books, and art supplies.

One of the many views from my living room: I never stepped
onto the balcony, not once!

Although I did sit close enough to the window to
sketch my cardigan drying in the sunlight.

Auckland University's "wedding cake" where
I spent four years studying Spanish Lit. and politics.
It's also where I was led to eventually meet my
literary mentor, the late author, Hugh Cook.

Auckland War Memorial Museum, always my "go to"
on a rainy day, both in the past and this visit too.

Because who can resist a Giant Moa?

Or a gaggle of kiwis? (Don't ask why they have
a ferret friend. I have no idea.)

The Maori displays at the museum were unfortunately closed
for renovation, but these carvings inside the Auckland Library were a
good compensation for what I missed.

As was this contemporary Maori sculpture
at the Auckland Art Gallery (below), two blocks from my apartment.

Rangitoto, Auckland's most scenic volcano.
Photo taken at Takapuna Beach only hours before
a cyclone hit.

Last view of the Sky Tower.
I'll be back!

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I had truly planned to continue blogging when I set out on my travels. I didn't mean to stop, or for so long, but I'm glad I did. Because, more than anything else, I needed a break--from everything. I needed a genuine vacation; a chance to rest, watch the sunrise, read, go slow and in particular: fill the well. New Zealand, even this modern, unfamiliar version, gave me that in bucket loads. I feel re-inspired to paint, design more jewelry, and to keep writing. More than anything, I feel inspired to meet the future, not just dwell on the past.

Tip of the Day: One of the things I love best about travel sketching is how easy, and quick, it is to capture mood and atmosphere for future writing. Whether it's laying down an abstract watercolor wash in neutral grays, or going for a more detailed study of the greens and blues of sea, sky, and land, there's something about the physical act of painting and/or drawing, especially with some accompanying notes to the page, that a photograph can never duplicate. On this particular trip, I deliberately left my usual sketch kit back in Albuquerque so that I could check out, and purchase, foreign supplies. It was a good decision and one I recommend to anyone else wanting to experiment with some sketching of their own. Best of all, now that I know where the art supply stores are, I'll know exactly where to go on my next visit!

Back from England, Part 2: Traveling with Makeshift, Limited, and Unexpectedly Good Art Supplies

Faversham: How could anyone not paint?

In today's post I want to talk about what I painted, why I painted, and how I managed with minimal art supplies during my recent multi-week trip to Faversham, Kent.

One of my main reasons for going to England was to experience what my daily life would be like if I chose to eventually live there, even if only part-time, and that would include maintaining my daily writing and painting routine. With that in mind, I made sure to bring a few supplies with me:

Limited, but enough to get me started.

1. One Bic mechanical pencil with replacement leads stored inside the barrel. While not the best pencils in the world, these cheap little Bics are great for travel. There's no need to bring a pencil sharpener and the removable eraser actually works.

2. My beloved Sailor Fude Pen. I can't go anywhere without this Japanese fountain pen originally designed for calligraphy. The unpredictable wackiness of the angled nib lends itself beautifully to what gives any sketch a strong sense of energy: the element of surprise. Together with the pen I also brought a box of black ink refill cartridges.

3. One white Gelly Roll pen. You never know when you need some highlights.

4. Three water brushes: one flat and two rounds. The beauty of water brushes is a) they're self-cleaning, and b) you never have to worry about bringing, or finding, water for painting when you're on location, inside or out. There's no need for jars or cups, and certainly no worries about spillage.

5. Two torchons: one large; one small. These rolled paper stumps are wonderful for blending pencil marks and creating shadows.

6. One Faber Castell kneadable eraser in a cute little box. I rarely use erasers for actual mark-removal, but they are super-useful in the same way the torchons come in handy.

7. Two binder clips. For holding down the pages of my sketchbook.

8. Viviva watercolor sheets. The absolute star of the show. I had never used these before, but so many people had recommended them so highly I thought they would be perfect for my trip. And they were. The "pamphlet-style" design took up no space whatsoever; the colors were intense and required only a tiny drop of water to activate; and they lasted for days--weeks! I didn't run out of paint until the very end of my trip, a full seven weeks.

Just add water!

9. My small but trusty I Love Cats zippered pouch. Super-lightweight, sturdy, and made from recycled plastic bottles, it held all of my travel art supplies with room to spare. It also let people know how much I love cats.

The only thing missing from this whole set-up was a sketchbook, a decision I made on purpose. Besides not wanting to carry the extra weight, I thought it would be fun to buy something in England to remember my trip. What I didn't know is I would end up buying five of them.

The first sketchbook I came across was a small mixed-media spiral-bound tablet made by a company in Dorset: Coffeenotes, named such because their products are manufactured from recycled coffee cups. I loved the size, the cream-colored paper, and especially the strength of the smooth-textured sheets that took watercolor without excessive buckling. I need more!

 

The next one I bought wasn't quite as unusual, but highly necessary: a Moleskine A4 landscape watercolor journal. I used it every day and night for the entire duration of my trip.

 

One small snafu I encountered in Faversham was the lack of dedicated art supply stores and I was lucky to find what I did at the local bookstore, Tales on Market St.

 

 

Despite the small amount of choice, I did manage to buy two more sketchbooks when I popped into a pop-up store at the 1697 gallery (really built in 1697). Handcrafted by a Faversham bookbinder, Bindfulness, there was no way I was going to pass up these unique and very special concertina books.

As if I didn't have enough paper already, I also unearthed a pad of the best, best kraft paper I have every found--in a discount general merchandise store of all places. Tucked away on a bottom shelf, I saw it while I was searching for dishwashing liquid. Finding art paper was much more exciting than the thought of doing dishes, and I couldn't believe the quality, or the low price of this incredible paper. Made in India, the thick, grainy texture has an old-world feel missing from much of the modern kraft or "bogus" paper sold here in the States, a texture I'm always in search of. After a few initial ink sketches, I used the bulk of the pad for black-and-white acrylic background studies, something I wasn't planning to do, but the paint was on a shelf above the paper and I thought, hmm, why not?

After I found paper and paint, I realized I could get all sorts of cheap but surprisingly good supplies at a variety of discount stores: children's gouache and oil pastels; a set of twenty-four watercolor brush pens; a package of three synthetic watercolor brushes; three house-painting brushes; and two throwaway fountain pens. The prices were excellent; I don't think I paid more than $20.00 for the whole bundle including the black and white acrylic paint, which meant that I used every purchase with reckless abandon--the exact way paint should always be used, regardless of price.

Added to my stash of store-bought supplies were the items I gathered on my daily walks and took home to use as impromptu art tools: sticks and stones, leaves and acorns, flower petals, tiny apples, and best of all: seagull feathers.

Not dinner.

Before leaving home I knew I wanted to take some kind of a drawing class during my stay, and the one I found, Mindful Drawing taught by Nicole Antras at Faversham's Creek Creative couldn't have been better.

Entrance to Creek Creative studios and art space. Cake and hot chocolate, too.

 

The class was only for a single Sunday morning, but I learned so much in a few short hours that I continued to use Nicole's techniques and advice for weeks after.

My Faversham mini-studio with a sample of my classwork.

Switching to drawing from painting sent me once again to the discount store (they were beginning to know me by now) for more supplies (yes, I have a problem): this time a spiral-bound pad of heavy-weight white drawing paper (technically the fifth sketchbook I bought) and a generic set of both graphite and color pencils that turned out to be as good, if not better, than fancy-brand pencils I've paid a fortune for in the past. Unfortunately I then had to buy a rather bulky pencil sharpener; so much for bringing my "convenient" Bic pencil from home.

Sketching, and especially painting, in the English climate definitely had its challenges, starting with the constant cold and damp preventing me from doing anything on site. Worse yet was trying to get my paint to dry, even when indoors. It was the same with my brushes; always wet and soggy no matter what I did.

I overcame the "can't draw outside" dilemma by doing my best to memorize colors and abstracted landscape features every time I went out walking, which was every day, and usually twice. As I walked I would also try to give what I was seeing an emotional context that I could explore once I got home. As soon as I got out of my coat, cardigan, scarf and gloves, I would immediately set to work in a sketchbook.

Watercolor brush pens in my Coffeenotes book.

Dark and gloomy. Sheer gothic joy!

At the end of the day I think I did pretty well with minimal supplies and a lot of improvisation; discovering that "makeshift" doesn't always mean "inferior," and in fact can be a high road into a myriad of creative possibilities. Every time I came across new and unexpected supplies I asked myself, "What if . . . ?" the same question I ask whenever I sit down to write, and my answers never disappointed me. Especially when those answers then turned me toward an entirely new direction: a brand new book manuscript inspired by my dark and stormy sketches.

And that's what I'll be covering in Post #3: Writing the Book I Wasn't Supposed to Write. (I tell you, I was busy in Faversham!) Until next time--

Tip of the Day: After buying all those pens and pencils I needed some extra storage and Faversham's numerous thrift stores were the perfect place to buy mugs, jugs, cups and trays for everything from mixing paint to holding brushes. I got what I needed within minutes of entering the stores, but there was one thing I totally overlooked and didn't think of until I was back in Albuquerque: buying art supplies in those same stores. It never occurred to me that thrift stores have art and craft sections and I bypassed what could have been some genuine opportunities. Next time that's precisely where I'll start first.

 

Art Retreat in France: Packing My Supplies

 

Just a few more days and then I'm off to France! My first holiday in three years: Le Vieux Couvent and a splash ink class with my friend and art teacher, Ming Franz. Along with 15 other splash ink enthusiasts, I will be gone for two weeks, ending with a final day and night in Toulouse before our flight home.

I've wanted to take a workshop at Le Vieux Couvent ever since I first heard about it in a Domestika class during the pandemic. The course instructor posted on his website that if and when the travel restrictions were lifted, he would be teaching his next workshop there. I remember thinking about how much fun a trip like that would be and how much I wanted to go. Unfortunately, I never got there--until now when Ming told me she was teaching a class in that very spot and I couldn't wait to sign up.

And as excited as I am to finally be going to Le Vieux, there remains a certain bittersweet element to the timing. Back during Covid when I was daydreaming about painting mini-masterpieces close to Cathar country (I'm obsessed with Cathar history), my husband was still alive making great plans of his own. He thought it would be an amazing opportunity to accompany me on the trip not as an art student, but to go vintage car hunting. He had heard of a local car rental company hiring out vintage vehicles and couldn't make up his mind whether we would rent a Lamborghini or just a plain old MGB for touring the Dordogne when my workshop finished. The idea was that while we were out driving, we'd be looking for a vintage auto or motorcycle to buy and bring home for restoration. It was a wonderful plan. Except you know what they say about plans.

Obviously, things didn't work out so well. Instead of packing for two and wondering if I'd be needing a headscarf in case we ended up in a convertible, I'm doing my best to prepare for my first solo attempt at "I-can-do-it travel" without having a non-stop panic attack. To keep myself as distracted as possible, I've been concentrating on accumulating travel art supplies--both the required ones for the course and a complement of fun items for my own daily sketching.

Splash ink, or po-mo to use the correct Chinese term, requires some heavy-duty accoutrements: large sheets of mulberry paper, trays to place the paper in, jars and jars of liquid watercolor and sumi ink, and a wide variety of additional bits and pieces not that easy to travel with. Thankfully Ming will be bringing the paper and paints, but to help lighten the load we've all been asked to bring the following items for individual studio use:

• 12 plastic spoons
• 12 plastic cups
• 1 roll of Frog tape
• 1 apron
• 1 pair of rubber gloves
• plastic wrap
• 1 hake brush
• 4 watercolor brushes, flats and rounds
• 1 mixing palette 
• 1 spray bottle
  

Also required is a roll of heavy duty foil. Again, thankfully, another participant has offered to bring a roll to share with me, and I am very grateful!

So now that I have that all done, my next step is choosing the sketching supplies for my personal use outside of the class, and believe me, choosing the "right stuff" has not been easy. I have dithered and re-thought and changed my mind so many times (including the middle of the night when I jumped out of bed to add yet one more perfect pencil to the pile) I am sure one of my conclusions was to "not bring anything at all." However, I think I have finally settled on my will-not-change kit and this is it:

• A tiny tray of Daniel Smith watercolors. The set I have here began life as the DS urban "Sketcher Set" created by artist Liz Steel of only six colors, but since buying it I have added some personal favorites, including Buff Titanium and Undersea Green. 
  
• A Hannemuhle concertina watercolor sketchbook. I bought this particular sketchbook at Christmas to start a series of "Bunny in the Snow" paintings that morphed into "Bunny Goes Wild" drawings in a completely different sketchbook I won't be taking with me. (The story of my life.) The reason I chose to bring the concertina book on this trip was a) it's very lightweight, and b) I thought it would be fun to experiment with a continuous sketch that filled a single book from front to back, cover to cover, and c) it was just sitting there on the shelf, so why not? Use it or lose it.
  
• A pad of high-quality bright white drawing paper made by Peter Pauper Press. This will be for some "Bunny in France" (or any other animals I may encounter) thumbnail sketches.
  
• 3 waterbrushes: 2 flats, 1 round. Tip for traveling with waterbrushes: do not fill with water until you arrive at your destination, and keep the brush section very loosely attached to the barrel while you travel. If you tighten the sections together too strongly, the compression in the plane can lock everything up and prevent you from taking the brush apart to fill with water when you're ready to do so. Which means you will break it, like I did on a previous flight.
  
• 1 woodless pencil made in Italy that is the most expensive pencil I have ever bought in my life (and it was even at a discounted price). But it is beautiful, doesn't roll off the table, and is the best bunny drawing pencil money can buy. 
• 1 Bic #7 mechanical pencil for detail drawing.
  
• 1 thick lead sketching pencil for shading and because I bought it on a trip to the Metropolitan Museum in New York years ago it carries happy memories. (I bought a few of them in case you were wondering how one pencil could last so long.)
  
• 1 Koh-i-noor Magic pencil. These pencils are indeed magic. Several shades of color all combined into one lead, they are super fun to use whenever you want to quickly add some color to any kind of sketch.
  
• 1 gray shading flexible fiber tip pen. (Confession: I don't really like this pen, but it seemed a good opportunity to use it up and toss it before I go home. My hope is that I will actually grow to like it and discover all kinds of interesting uses for it. Maybe.)
  
• 2 #8 black Gelly pens. I love these pens in all their colors, but black seemed the most sensible for this trip. I am bringing two so that I have one for writing as well as drawing.
  
• 1 double-hole pencil sharpener so that I can sharpen both my large and regular-size pencils.
  
• 1 black eraser. I try not to use an eraser but sometimes they are a life-saver. Black erasers are my favorites.
  
• 1 glue stick. Besides being handy for pasting ticket stubs, fortune cookie wisdom, and any other strange little bits of ephemera inside my sketchbook, the ability to collage or simply paste a clean piece of paper over a failed sketch is one of life's great creative miracles.
  
•  2 binder clips to hold my sketchbook flat.
  
• 1 six-inch plastic ruler to help with my terrible sense of perspective as well as possibly helping me to draw straight lines. (Or that's the hope at any rate.)
  
• 1 zippered pouch (made from recycled soda bottles) declaring my eternal love for cats. The pouch is small but big enough to hold absolutely everything other than the sketchbook and pad.

Because I will also be writing as well as painting, I'll have this cute Moleskine cachet journal handy featuring a Van Gogh sunflower study on the cover. A friend recently brought it home from Europe for me and it's a great reminder to stay loose, stay happy, and stay creative every day! (Thank you, Sue!)

 

Tip of the Day: Seize the day. Go for it. Just do it. Yes--and all the other clichés you can think of. They're true. They're real. They're the best advice ever. So what are you waiting for? Whether it's starting your novel, buying your first sketchbook, or wanting to travel to Siberia--take the leap, because . . . if not now, when?

My Top 7 + 1 Sketching Must-Haves for Spring '25

 

Kit Carson Park; watercolor/ink on stone paper

 

Spring is in the air and all I want to do is go outside and paint! But bringing along too many art supplies has always made me feel burdened and unfocused once I get there. 

As much as I love office and art supply stores, I've never been comfortable owning too much of anything: dozens of colored pencils, hundreds of paint tubes and brushes, shelves and shelves of jars, papers, and stuff is, to me, a nightmare. Not only do I lack the room to store those things, I don't have the mental space to hold it either--all those decisions: which pencil, what color . . .  Instead, I prefer to keep my supplies simple: a few brushes, several pencils, a small collection of watercolors, things that fit easily into my tote bag.

At the end of 2024, however, I decided it was time to treat myself to some new sketching supplies, especially as I planned to meet more frequently with Urban Sketchers. And so I bought (and now can't live without):

 1. A Sailor Fude Fountain Pen

For years I'd read various reviews about how super-fun these pens were: perfect for urban sketching and perfect for self-expression. Now that I own one, I know why everyone is so fude-crazy: they are indeed, amazing. 

Fude pens are a type of fountain pen with a bent tip originally designed for calligraphy, allowing for a thick or thin line from the same pen. As a writer I'm naturally a pen person so the fude has been a delight for both writing and drawing. My only very minor complaint is that the pen is substantially longer than most other pens and it doesn't fit in my pencil case. But who needs a pencil case? With this pen all I need is a sketchbook and brush (Sailor brand ink blends beautifully when wet) and I'm ready to go anywhere in town.

2. Acrylic Bottled Ink

 In the same way that I love pens, I love bottled ink. Although I prefer using pre-filled cartridges with my fude pen, I'm a big fan of using twigs, feathers, bamboo pens, and watercolor brushes for general ink drawing. Despite the availability of ink in every color you can think of, black, sepia, Prussian blue, and indigo are the best for me, along with gold and white for highlighting (with a twig, of course). (Note: the best thing about using twigs for sketching is they're free and you can throw them away when you're finished! Minimalism at its best.)

3. Black Stabilo Woody Pencil (Crayon? Or both?)

Is it a pencil, a pen, a crayon, or even a watercolor?? Whatever it is, it's designed for three-year-olds and that suits me fine. Beyond their versatility, what first drew my attention was how similar Woodys are to china markers. I love drawing with china markers but find them impossible to sharpen due to the outdated way they are wrapped in a coil of paper that requires a dexterity I don't have to unwrap. I've ruined so many markers while trying to remove that stupid paper I can't even count how many I've wasted. But now I have Stabilo Woodys with that same creamy, slightly waxy texture I enjoyed so much from the china markers. 

Woodys, again like china markers, aren't limited to black; there are many more colors on the market that I might investigate one day but for now black is it. Bold, expressive, and water soluble--what's not to love?

4. Stone Paper

Ink experiment on stone paper.

Wow, this stuff is weird, and it's really made from stone! I bought a sketchbook of it from the Albuquerque Museum gift store, but because it was wrapped and sealed in a plastic covering I never got a chance to actually see what it was I was buying.

When I removed the plastic cover at home was when I learned the truth: each piece of "paper" (which I later learned from YouTube IS made from crushed stone) was more like a piece of floppy vinyl than paper. The upside is that it's impossible to fold, tear, or destroy, meaning you can work and rework it without fear of it tearing. While this is certainly a plus, the same smooth, indestructible quality means it has absolutely zero control for what I wanted to use it for: watercolor. Which then turned out to be so much fun. "No control" lets the ink and/or pigment do its own thing; a constant surprise that lets me do what I like best: explore. It's also great for taking out of doors because you cannot ruin stone paper no matter how hard you try. It's even washable if you don't like your first attempts or colors.

5. Graphite Watercolors

I found these while watching yet another YouTube video. What intrigued me most was their similarity to one of my longtime favorite supplies: Derwent Graphitint pencils: water soluble graphite pencils with a muted undertone of color. 

Kuretake graphite watercolors have that same moody, semi-gothic, melancholy quality that appeals to me in Graphitints. One aspect I like is the limited palette of colors. All six work well together whether you choose to use two colors or six in the same sketch. As you can see from the photo above, I've already used them a lot!

6. Blackwing Pencils

"Half the pressure, twice the speed." Or at least that's what it says in the ads. 

I'm always on the lookout for a pencil that works alone and I think I've found it with Blackwings. Originally designed for musicians, Blackwing pencils have a long history of literary and artistic use. I particularly like the rectangular, extendable eraser. The three barrel colors I've shown here: black, white, and gray, are not the colors of the lead, but rather signify three different degrees of hard and softness. Currently, I can't decide which one I like the best, but I'll let you know when I do!

7. Escoda Synthetic Watercolor Brushes

I've wanted Escoda brushes ever since the pandemic and my first Domestika class when they were recommended by watercolor artist, Alex Hillkurtz. For a long time I delayed buying them because they were a) expensive, and b) I already had plenty of brushes.

Several weeks ago I caved and bought a set of three. Made in Barcelona, the hype is true: they are worth every penny and I have nothing more to say. The big brush is REALLY big and not exactly portable, but the smaller brush is just right for local travel. My only question: Why did I wait so long??

8. Bonus "Must-Have" Tip of the Day:

Now that my new supplies are in place, I wanted somewhere other than my apartment and neighborhood cafes to sketch, and with that in mind I recently bought memberships to Albuquerque's Natural History Museum, art museum, zoo, aquarium, and botanical gardens. The memberships help the venues and the venues help me. Whether I'm indoors or out, spending time with dinosaurs and sculpture or sharks and tourists--there's always something fresh to draw and paint, no excuses!

Watercolor Lessons for Writers

I love to write; I love to paint, usually on the same day and often at the same time. Ink and watercolor, stories and images, my mind swirls with so many ideas it's a wonder I can settle down long enough to work on anything. If I could write and draw with both hands, that would be my ideal definition of time management.

Between the two, however, watercolors--no matter how many hands I use--will always be my most difficult challenge. Words come more easily to me than any skill with paint, probably because I consider writing to be talking on paper, and I'm not exactly an introvert when it comes to conversation. After I'd published my how-to book, The Essential Guide for New Writers, I was delighted when one of my writing students said, "The book just sounds like you!"

I don't know to what degree my watercolors "look like me" and I hope it's very little. At the moment they tend to be rather gloomy, not exactly how I want to be pictured for the rest of my life, but let's consider it a phase.

Unlike a manuscript draft which can be rewritten ad nauseum, you only get one chance with watercolors; start gloomy, stay gloomy. There's no going back. Once you begin, there you are. Watercolors simply cannot be "fixed." Whether it's a bug flying into a freshly painted surface, or my hand suddenly dropping a loaded paintbrush onto a pristine area that was meant to remain white, things happen. Yet with every "mistake" I have also discovered I can turn happy accidents into something worth keeping. So what if the white paper is now orange? Call it a sunrise. Bug smears? A vital part of my style.

The other day while I was painting outside on my balcony (not for glamor, but because it's the best place to make a mess), I started thinking about how I would feel if I had to give up one or the other. There was so much I had learned from each discipline and not about technique alone. Patience, realistic expectations, perseverance, these things are integral to my approach to creativity and stem from rock-solid basics:

1. My Favorite Supplies. Every new watercolor painting begins with paper, paint, and brushes, and preferably high quality paper, paint, and brushes. But something I've learned is that quality rarely has anything to do with price. In reality, quality is whatever is the most fun to use. A springy brush from the discount store or a smooth-gliding glitter gel pen can make me want to paint or write all day. Most of my painting disasters have stemmed from using the most expensive supplies because they weren't conducive with what I was trying to do. Student-grade paint, for instance, has turned out to be in many cases much richer in color than pricey "professional" brands. Brown paper bags are an amazing background for painting with opaque watercolors.

It's the same with writing tools: take those gorgeous leather-bound journals you see lined up in bookstores or gift shops. Gilt-edged blank pages, jewel-toned covers; they terrify me! They're so difficult to use: the covers don't fold back enough for writing on the go and the paper can be too textured, making my pen skip, stop, and eventually destroy the pages with ink blots and holes in the paper. For me, the very best journals and notebooks are spiral-bound and have cardboard covers I can collage with my own designs. The paper inside accepts any kind of pen, even an ink-dipped twig. I can't write in anything too genteel, nor with a designer pen that looks great advertised in a magazine, but is so heavy it could double as a snow-shovel. Struggling with supplies because they're beautiful and what "the professionals use," is a surefire way to write or paint nothing at all.

 
2. Work from light to dark. A frustrating aspect of watercolors is how you have to work in layers. It's nearly impossible, for instance, to create a shadow area in a painting with just a single stroke of dark color. To make matters even more frustrating, watercolor has a tendency to always dry lighter than what you thought the color would be. You have to lay down an initial wash, wait for what seems like forever for the paint to dry, and then add another layer of color. And then another. Sometimes this can go on for an entire day!

When we're writing, it's tempting to want to get everything right with only one draft. But more often than not we have to write, and write, and write some more to really achieve the exact meaning of what we're trying to say. Don't give up when you re-read a first, second, or third draft and find it to be too "light" or lacking the depth you want. Keep going. Experiment with different approaches to your subject matter. The main thing to keep in mind is that you will reach the right shade with perseverance. Keep going.

 

3. Let the paint dry! Depending upon where you live, waiting for a watercolor layer to dry can be fast or molasses-slow. In Albuquerque where I'm currently based, I don't have long to wait, but when I was living in Georgia, the humidity kept my paper wet for hours. Whether you're in the desert or at the beach, it's still boring to wait for paint to dry, but it's also essential. The quickest way to create "mud" on the page is to rush into adding fresh paint before the previous layers are dry. My solution has been to work on several pieces at once, which is also the way I write. At any given time I have about three manuscripts in progress: a short story, a journal of ideas and freewriting, and at least one novel. If my enthusiasm wanes for any of it, I can move to something new.

Multiple projects can be helpful with painting, too. If my paper is taking too long to dry, I like to doodle in my sketchbook, or put some color washes onto a new sheet of paper. While the clouds are drying on the first piece, I can start painting the hills on another. It's a handy trick that saves time and keeps me from wanting to rush in too quickly, and thereby destroy, whatever I'm working on.

4. Don't over-mix your colors. A common error many watercolor artists make is over-mixing their colors: putting, say, some blue and red on their palette and stirring it into purple soup. A much better technique is to wet your paper with clean water, then drop in some blue followed by a drop of red and let the two colors find their own chemistry. The ensuing violet shade will be much richer and more interesting than a standard recipe purple.

For writers, over-mixing colors is the equivalent of over-editing. Polishing and rewriting a piece too many times can edit the life right out of it. Sure, you want your words to be clear and understandable, but don't over-strive for perfect grammar or syntax if it's going to end up putting your reader to sleep.

  

5. Use your largest brush. Tiny, delicate paintbrushes are cute and look as if they're exactly what you need for painting hundreds of tree leaves or fur on a cat, but the truth is you can get into terrible trouble by being too finicky. It's a lot more liberating, and exciting, to paint bold and quick with your largest brush no matter how small your paper is. Using a flat, wide brush is the equivalent of freewriting, letting first thoughts, first words spill onto the page in broad strokes and unrestrained, uncensored expression. You can always go back later into a piece with a smaller brush, outlining and emphasizing your details. But start too small and you'll be fussing over your work for hours and days without any visible progress.

Tip of the Day: Find an old manuscript you've put away, one you've given up on either because you were tired of editing it, or tired of marketing it without adequate response. Taking the suggestions listed above as a guide, see if you can apply any of them to your story. Do you need to take a new approach to your theme with some freewriting? Are there scenes that would benefit from added layers of darkness? Have you been using too small of a "brushstroke" to paint your setting or your characters' emotions and reactions? See how far you can go in a new direction. (And don't forget: Extra credit for writers who try some watercolor paintings based on their plot!)