Oh defeat! I had saved my perfectly clean, white, glittering sketchbook for endless summer days of painting and drawing. Such big plans to fill it every day with beautiful artworks that I would bring to our first day of sixth grade and Mr. Cerulean would take one glimpse and then faint onto to the art room floor. Then, after I wake him with the smelling salts that I will have ready in my backpack, he will hand me a black beret with the word "artist" written in glitter across it and promote me to high school art - no, college art!
Oh! My plans are at risk! Now summer is here and I am sprawled on the living room floor staring at the blank pages. What should I draw? Something from my imagination? Something from my daily life? Whatever it is, it should be perfect. Right? Or else, what is the point?
Signed,
A doomed duck, alone with her empty sketchbook.
PS. It also doesn't help that Myrtle has been trailing me with her magnifying glass and clue notebook every day. Thank goodness she has been obsessed with that cookie. Did you ever learn who took the bite?
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