Intro: The Dreaded Blank Page

Picture this. You get an idea for a character illustration, you sit down to find some reference, and after a trip down the Pinterest rabbit hole you find what you’re looking for. You open up your drawing software, pull in your reference, set up your drink and snacks, pick up your pen aaaand…your mind goes blank. You thought you knew exactly what you were going to draw, but suddenly all the ideas you start to sketch down (and promptly delete) aren’t cutting it. This used to happen to me A LOT and it was so discouraging. At first I tried to just change up my creative process, use productivity hacks, timers, and Youtube advice. It worked sometimes, but it wasn’t until I stopped to wonder why I struggled in the first place that I actually started to overcome it. Why was the blank page so scary to me? Simple. Perfectionism. I was too focused on getting it “right” from start to finish, still stuck in school mode like everything was an assignment to be graded. Even as I sit here writing this post, I’m struggling to overcome my desire to say the “right” thing and have it flow perfectly onto the page. I strive for excellence in everything I do, but I’ve spent a lot of my life struggling to find the line between high-achieving and overworking. And finding that line was no easy feat.

Let me tell you a story…

I’d thought on and off for years about running my own art business, but the journey to opening the studio really kicked off during my last semester of college. My husband and I were both taking nearly fulltime credit hours, working as close to full time as possible, and just doing our best to make ends meet. In the second half of the semester, I started to experience the thing every artist dreads most. A tiny, twinging click in my dominant wrist and a tingling in my pinky. Between hefting multiple pounds of raw chicken at my job and hours spent drawing and typing up assignments for school, I was tiring out my wrist FAST. I couldn’t just stop using my hand so I iced it and pushed through until I pushed right into an overuse injury compounded by a fall at work. I spent the last two weeks of my semester in a brace 24/7, only able to draw and type for 20 minute increments from the pain, and stuck on register duty at work. I was able to finish all of my finals and pass all three classes to graduate. I finished a 6-year marathon walking across that stage. Unfortunately, 6 years of school and a major injury led to a major case of burnout. Physically, mentally, emotionally, creatively. I was spent. I crossed far into overworking territory and suffered dearly for it. Even after my injury healed, I didn’t make hardly any new art for weeks. Weeks turned into months, and while I missed being creative, that blank page just felt like a mountain to climb after long days at work. I knew I needed a reset of some kind or I was going to go nuts from not exercising my creative muscles. Then on a random Friday morning, I watched a video on creative burnout and the artist advised to “just throw paint on something” in a sense of just making something to make it. While she meant it in a more metaphorical sense, I took it very literally. I looked at the blank walls of our spare bedroom and thought to myself, “wouldn’t it be wonderful if they matched my green velvet reading chair?”

I snatched up one of the pillows to color match at Lowes and proceeded to have the most relaxing and fulfilling day I’d had since graduating. I taped the baseboards as best as I could and tarped to protect the carpet, and then I released the beast. I flung paint, got dirty, and didn’t sweat it when I accidentally got paint on the un-taped ceiling. I listened to music, danced around dripping paint onto my feet, and just enjoyed the process of adding a little extra color to my home. After letting the room dry and air out a few days, I set about putting together my own little study. Within a couple of months of working in this space, I had my first real inquiries about freelance illustration work! I took what projects I could but with a very stressful full time job, it quickly began to overwhelm me. Fast forward to September, after a lot of prayer and discussion on finances, hubby and decided I could quit my job to pursue art full time. It was rough at first, honestly it’s still rough, but it’s been such a rewarding and educational experience. It was so nerve wracking taking the leap of opening a real business with all the taxes and logistics. I hesitated at the “blank page” wondering what I’d even call it, what would it be about? But I jumped and “threw some paint” until something stuck, and voila! Lily-Green Studios was born! I will always remember the day my LLC was approved for registration, the day I officially became a business owner, and how giddy I was. But none of it would have happened if I hadn’t tackled the blank page.

Now here I am, writing to you lovely folks on a website I designed for my very own studio. You may be asking, “so what exactly do you plan to do with this studio?” The answer? Well, aside from the freelancing gigs, a lot! There are at least a dozen things I plan on trying in the first few months. Short stories, true crime videos, art + cooking series, a cookbook, day-in-the-life vlogs, randomizer character design challenges, short films, story reading sessions…you probably get the idea. To put it plainly, I plan to do what I’ve done from the moment I started. Throw paint, see what sticks, and run with it. Eventually I’ll settle on a steady model, open a storefront, and publish my own stories. But for now, you’ll be right alongside me for the “figuring it out” part. Instead of perfecting everything and THEN going public, I want to let you in on the process of starting a creative business. The trial and error, the good, the bad, the ugly.
So, now that introductions are over…who’s ready for chapter 1?