The chief lesson I chose to take away from art school involved a hearty respect for symbol and metaphor as tools of expression, a lesson that was nicely suited to my fondness of fantasy and science fiction.
The first time I consciously thought that this would be a cool thing to do for a living was around grade six, after reading The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton. Apparently she published or sold that novel when she was sixteen. I was eleven at the time, or thereabouts, and I thought, "if she could do it, then so can I." It took me a bit longer, but hey.
Awards serve to motivate us, to show us what we've done, and to remind us that no matter how well we're doing, we can always get better. Please help us get better; help us become the best!
In the slow creep of delirium / Johnny and Hoagy threatened / to loudly ruin our soft dehydration.
One wing of the butterfly shivered, then twitched itself free of the paper; the other wing, the abdomen, and the antennae followed, until the living insect lay trembling on the page.
