Did you ever wonder what happens to unfinished manuscripts? They get put in the darkest part of your brain, buried in an old steamer trunk under a mountain of useless information like your old bicycle lock combination from 3rd grade, secret Batman hand shake, and the log-in password to that new facebook account you set up last week. Go figure. There they sit, hoping against hope that someday they get the go-ahead to move on to the next plane, or drift away and evaporate forever. It's so sad. Hang in there story of mine, I'll break you out of that place as soon as I can.
A great story trumps a pretty good one every time, and I can always tell when I have a pretty good story. There's just a little something about it that's not quite right. It's like a bump in the road that you've become accustomed to after running over it so many times; you almost forget that it's there, but there it is. Same with an illustration. I could swear that it's the second Mona Lisa... except for that, thing, over there—that, kind of disconnected thought that doesn't really make any sense... Maybe no one will notice. Or maybe I'm just over thinking it. Yeah, right. It you see it, everyone sees it. It's an all or nothing game folks. It either works, or it's just a pretty good rough draft.
So therefore, I decided to ignore my little writing obstruction (if you ignore it, it'll go away) by painting a portrait. One of my favorite things to do. I've told you how much I enjoy telling a story with my artwork... Well, this is the same thing. The story is in the facial expression. Here's my sketch.