I always knew I was an artist, as sketched out by the main character, Ruth in my novel, Tree of Lives:
Four year old Ruthie returned to her room to finish an art project she had been working on for days. She had painstakingly drawn a tree, including every leaf that could fit on the paper. When she felt it was finished she ran into the kitchen, eager to show her mother her masterpiece.
“Mom. Look! Look what I drew! How do you like it?”
Her mother, on the phone, sounded slightly annoyed to be interrupted by Ruthie’s pestering.
“Hold on, Caroline.” Glancing over her shoulder for a split second, she said, “That’s nice, dear” and seamlessly resumed her chat.
Ruthie returned to her room a little crestfallen, having just learned two important lessons: Not Everyone Understands Art and Timing Is Everything.