As promised, here is one of the earliest excerpts of the novel I’m currently working on.  I wrote this part in high school, most likely around 2004.  It was initially a short story called The Fire Tree but the title has changed several times since.  I cut out this particular slice of backstory completely.  Originally the protagonist was an artist but then I made her brother an artist instead.  Now, no one in the story is an artist, so I guess it’s safe to post.  Trees remain an integral part of the story however.

When I was 13, my art class spent 3 months painting trees with opaque watercolors.  Pine trees, oak trees, ferns, and various bushes I don’t even know the name of.  You say it, we painted it.  The first two weeks were all technique.  Then we painted landscapes for two more weeks.  The first day we went outside to paint from direct observation, the wind was out of control.  Leaves were blowing everywhere, and my easel kept toppling over, threatening to fall on me every five minutes.  Cars drove by on their way to the building and we got some strange looks.  I felt strangely at home there, regardless.

I never looked at a tree the same way again.

I might as well admit that that part is largely autobiographical since I did do that in one of my art classes when I was younger.  Another reason to cut it out.  I’m going to be posting an old video next, because I don’t think I ever posted it, and there will be reminiscing.