Dear Self,

I’m writing to you because I think it might help to slow you down and reflect, to bring to your studio time the mindset you absorbed in that very green very gulch Green Gulch Farms SCBWI Illustrator Retreat. You arrived early, the tires of your car crunching on gravel as you drove into the parking lot next to the big yurt. You breathed in the eucalyptus scents as you closed your eyes, and you felt thankfulness as you thought about the planning and teamwork that brought you there.

I know that when you returned home, you were eager to integrate every single realization you had, so that as you worked, you could see on the page all the newness living in you. You wanted to make imaginary worlds come to life on the page, making art for kids out of your well of childlike experiences.

But halfway into it, you didn’t see what you wanted to see. It looked full of effort and stunted. You don’t want strain. You want joy and depth, so you can keep making art even when there’s darkness out there. You want to be a part of a good thing.

And so I’m writing today to remind you of calmness, joy, and acceptance. The artists and writers who came each brought love for their work and such varied experience that you were strengthened, especially equipped to face stresses that had shut down your kidlit creative work the past couple months. (We love all the gardening and leveled up sewing, but don’t you miss the stories?) You learned about breathing when pain or trouble flares up in a way that helps you to notice its source without berating yourself. You privately faced your internal spiky parts and— like with the breathing— learned to say “Hello, there you are! I hear you!” as you walked along your path.

So as you work, continue in that way. Keep making art even when it’s not turning out how you want…. Keep making art so you can discover what you want. Keep making, accepting, stumbling, and getting up. It really is good to be you, I promise.

Love, You and Me