I find myself going back to my roots. I have to explain. I have to tell you a little bit about myself. Ever since I was four years old my favourite thing in the world was drawing. I know, I know, every little girl loves to draw. I was lucky enough to grow up in a small town with an art school. I told my parents early on that there was no way in hell I was going to attend any other school. I was born in a family where my opinion always mattered so my parents enrolled me in this amazing school without hesitation. I was a bit young to start school that year so my mother tried to prepare me for the possibility of having to wait another year. I kinda just told her I wasn’t stupid so there should be no issues with me starting school right away (of course, I don’t agree with my six year old self anymore as I now believe there is no such thing as stupid children. Besides, being prepared for school doesn’t mean you’re super smart anyway).

So believe it or not, I’ve spent all of my school years in this wonderful establishment. I wasn’t the best, the most talented kid, but I loved drawing, painting, sculpting, everything. I still do. I have to admit, I don’t really like sharing my work with anyone. Mostly because I generally create things to surprise my family or friends. I’m terrified of negative criticism but there is this tiny little voice inside my head that keeps telling me this doesn’t matter. This is me, this is what I can do. I don’t want to save the world or become famous (that idea has sailed when I was fourteen and teenage depression and anger kicked in 😛 ). If you like what I do, that’s great. If you don’t, well, that’s life.

I have to add that I have a big, strong brother. Wait, I have to go even further back in time. I had a big, strong grandfather. It’s hard to find the right words to describe him, so let’s just say he was a pretty cool guy. He really liked to write and that somehow rubbed off on all of us. When we were younger, my cousin and I used to spend summers at their house. We always had a notebook we used to write stories or poems in. My brother also inherited this love of writing from him. He always loved to listen to stories when he was a child and now he can invent and create any story in less than a second.

A couple of years ago he wrote a story. He gave it to me to correct his grammar mistakes. I was studying philology at the time so I thought the best way to correct his sweat and blood was to use a disgusting red marker. When he saw my “work” he frowned and told me I can keep it. He doesn’t want it anymore. He seemed very disappointed. I felt bad for years because of this. Then, one day, the Muse whispered in my ears and told me what to do to make this mistake right. She told me to illustrate his story, so I did. I gave it to him as a birthday present. I think it’s safe to say this was my first and only (so far) gift that he actually liked. You can find this story here (it’s not translated into English…yet)

People really seemed to like our work and that encouraged me to start fulfilling my own dream of writing and illustrating stories. This is how I came to write my very first children’s book. You can see some of the illustrations here. This story has not yet been translated but I am working on it 🙂

I knew from the very beginning that I wanted to use watercolours but my first three illustrations weren’t very successful. I didn’t like them. You can check out the evolution of these illustrations below.

If you want to read more about how I see the world, please visit my other posts:

Lucky One

The Rains

And if you want to know what I’m currently working on (it’s my brother’s new story), click here.

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