Every living thing needs sustenance. Your plants need good soil and water. Your cat needs to be fed and watered. You need to be fed and watered.
But I'm not talking about food today. Well, not food as in something you put in your mouth and ingest. And when I say "starving artist," I'm not asking for hand-outs, rattling my tin, hoping to sell the next novel. No. What I'm talking about is your brain. My brain. The artist's brain.
Like any living thing, it needs to be fed. But:
How do you feed your brain?
Simple: put things in it.
Attend a play.
Listen to an opera.
Tour a museum.
Etc., etc., etc.
Those are just a few ways to feed your artist. But this post isn't about you. It's about me. (I know, how selfish.)
My artist is starving.
Oh, I've been reading. And though my brain is being fed in that way, it hasn't been getting the full food pyramid--bear with me.
Imagine existing on a diet made entirely of chicken nuggets. One girl did this for a number of years. The result? She wound up in the hospital.
I've been reading, but I'm been reading the same genre--or non-genre, if you will--for too long. Man cannot live on Literary alone. That's why I'm going to mix things up and try to read in more genres. But it's not enough to eat. One needs to exercise.
But that's another post.
Suffice it to say that I will be playing. And when I say playing I mean, I mean just that. Time to pull out the finger-paints and let my artist go nuts and be a kid.
...and, no, I won't eat the paint...much, anyway.