I found a book at the library titled, "How to be an artist". I always dreamed of being an artist. I had this little creative cocoon in my heart that was desperate to emerge. I grabbed the book and ran home to read it. I was absorbed by the pages and traveled inside the pictures. I returned several hours later bubbling with ideas and images. My heart was fluttering and I danced to the library to get more books. I took home books on arts and crafts and painting and drawing. I carried home books on origami and collage and stencils and acrylics. I was spinning with joy as my house overflowed with how-to books on creativity. I started to work my way through one pile at a time. Twenty piles later, I was drowning in books and sinking into other people’s imagination. I had so many ideas that I had no idea where to start. I was trapped in towers of creative knowledge. I left my house and went outside with my sketchbook. I forgot everything I learned from all the books, and started drawing the little creative butterfly bursting out from inside of me.