There is a story I read uncounted times before I was ten years old. The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams.
I loved not only the words. I loved the drawings by William Nicholson as well. I would trace my finger along the lines of the words and images. I wasn’t consciously imagining I was writing or drawing. No. But there was something compelling, some feeling that filled me as my finger touched the shapes on the pages. Two dimensions becoming three dimensions in my imagination.
In Margery’s story, love and belief change the velveteen rabbit from stuffed toy to Real.
Isn’t this what I am doing, every time I write and draw? Love and belief becoming the words on the page and the lines in the drawing. Words becoming story. Lines becoming image. Real.
I hear people say believing is seeing. They are right.
Belief changes everything.
So does love.
When I write and draw, I can’t see the end of what I am creating. I don’t know how the story will close. I can’t see the image that will be there after I place the last mark on the paper.