I really, really, really wanted to be a part of Neil Gaiman’s A Calendar Of Tales. It was one of those things that I knew I’d make time for. I knew it. Felt it in me’ bowwwwwwns. It wasn’t about getting a chance for winning. Art is too subjective. The chances of winning something like this is so slim, its bonkers. It was about my art being infront on Mr. Gaiman’s eyes, about one of his stories, even for a moment. He is a storyteller of tremendous ability, inspiration, and magic. That honor was just too exciting.
In finishing my coloring book, finishing up some Muertitas for my group show on March 30th, working fulltime and even getting a cold, I have missed the deadline. I could not make the time for a piece for the Calendar of Tales, even though I KNEW I would.
This is one of those personal failures that breaks my heart. The chances of another opportunity like this, being part of a community art piece with NEIL GAIMAN – missing out on submitting art will sting for a long time still.
It sucks to reach for a dream, then have it slip through your fingers. But what about when you never reach, and it just passes by while you watch with your hands in your pockets. That’s a special kind of burn.
Here’s hoping that dreadful stabbing in my chest of sitting on the sidelines turns into fuel for more creativity.
Promising my next post will be good news. Very good news. About a Mer-Kingdom Coloring book. That’s finished. And an art show. With new art. Until then….