It's weird that in my mid-fifties I pictured myself as a totally dismal and frustrated cartoonist. As Pat and I dig into the history of Pat Drum Aerobics, we've discovered a stockpile of pretty good drawings that I'd completely forgotten.
Little cartoon figures doing their stretches and warm-ups... And I got paid... so does that mean I was a professional cartoonist?
Why did I completely blot these out? What goal did I have that got frustrated? Is this a life pattern? I launch myself into a new skill, get so far, then back off? Is it a psychological thing or am I simply a dilettante who loves dabbling in this and that?
I have the original layouts for 4 editions of a 2-page Workout Digest, published by PDA in 1984. Pat must have thought they were too expensive to produce, without enough of a payoff in revenues, so there are no more. I think that was my peak.
I remember now also laboring over some cartoons in my day job, too. No payoff there either. Then... computers, clip art, cheap photos, video... I was a has-been before I hatched...
Then I fell in love with writing novels and was sure I'd given up drawing forever...