Pink Sherbet Photography
*A few years ago I’d been sitting at a really arty coffee shop waiting for a friend. It was the kind of coffee shop that had worn couches along the walls, bookshelves with new and second-hand books for sale, art supplies in one corner, and a real eclectic mix of patrons. It was one of those places that made people-watching a real treat.
So while I waited for my friend, I sort of spied on the middle-aged man at a table near me. He was a sketch artist, and the table he occupied was littered with pencils of various sized, crumpled pages, and eraser shavings. I think when I chose that table, he’d already been there a good half an hour, just drawing. The artistic mess in front of him might have been what made me choose that table, because my friend was notorious for being late. Most of the time very late.
But it was when I combined that mess with the business suit he wore that I chose a table that allowed me to watch him without him being aware of it. Not that he would have noticed, he was too engrossed in sketching the bus stop across the road along the lady waiting there.
In truth it was a really inspiring sight, this man in his business suit, sketching. Just by the look of him I could tell he probably worked as a manager or an accountant, something along those lines. It might have been his lunch hour, and he spent it doing something he loved. Something he was exceptionally good at, if what my spying had shown me was anything to go by. I had been an inspiring thing to see. Somebody with a day job still finding time to do something he loved. I’m sure had I asked him, he would have told me he’d much rather devote more time to his art, but he had a family to support and he loved them more than he did his art. He’d looked like he kind of guy who would have a wife who tried giving him as much time to devote to his passion as possible. Sometimes you could just tell these things about certain people.
My timing couldn’t have been more perfect if somebody had sent me there on purpose. A couple of student had walked into the coffee shop, and after they’d all placed their orders, gathered around a table and started talking about all kinds of random student things.
One of them, a guy I guessed could have been twenty or so, had leaned back on the two hind legs of his chair and looked at the man drawing. He’d complimented the man on his skill, and the man had accepted it graciously. The student then went on to tell the suited man how he used to draw until some personal issues got in the way. The man had asked the student if those personal issues were still in the way, and the student had said no, they weren’t. ‘Then why aren’t you doing it again if you love it so much?’ the suited man had asked him.
You have to understand, this conversation fascinated me. I’d once asked myself the same question, right before I’d started writing again. It had changed my life, that question. Why aren’t you doing it if you love it so much? Good question, right?
The student had replied that the man had made a good point, and the man had agreed. He’d said that there would always be things that get in the way of doing what you really wanted to. The trick was finding ways around it or making those things work for you. Bad things are only bad things until you decided to do something about or with them.
It had been a strangely wonderful thing to see, the light of comprehension in the student’s eyes as he assimilated what the man had said to him. He’d returned to chatting with his friends, but I’d seen the change in him. Good change, and maybe the change had gotten to me too. I like to think it had.
Fifteen minutes after the encounter, the artist had gathered his pencils and pages and placed them all inside his briefcase. Before he’d left, he’d touched the student’s shoulder and had pointed to the corner where all the art supplies were on sale, then left.
I have no idea if the student went to buy any of the supplies, but I like to think that he had.
* Please ignore my tense issues. I blame it on almost being the end of November and my brain not functioning properly. Any of the H&C ladies are welcome to correct anything they want. I take no responsibility 
Courtney Koschel has been writing since she could hold a crayon. She has worked as a journalist, editor, technical writer, and technical editor. Young adult fiction is near and dear to her heart, which is why she writes YA and all of its glorious sub-genres.
Tonia Marie Houston is a mother, writer, poet, bookworm, and blogger. When sheís not chasing her three spider monkeys, she spends her time revising a young adult novel about life after death and second chances. Though she began to pursue her career later in life, she hopes to inspire and motivate other writers to put their best book forward.
This native Texan now lives with her Scottish hubby in North Ayrshire, Scotland, where she wanders the moors in search of William Wallace. She has been a guest blogger on Writer Unboxed and is currently working on the sequel to her YA supernatural novel, Touched by Darkness.
Jamie Raintree writes what she likes to call everyday fairytale love stories, featuring the little moments in life that are truly magical. She lives in Arizona with her husband and daughter and is currently editing her second novel.
Jani Grey is a South African ambivert, writer, reader, optimist, and bacon enthusiast. When her boss isnít looking she writes, revises, or edits YA Urban Fantasies in between work. Sheís sneaky like that. Sheís a NaNoWriMo addict and is currently working on two NaNo novels.
Rebecca Fields is a modern gypsy, roaming from place to place in search of ñ well, sheíll let you know when she finds it. Writing has become a way for her to share her adventures, both real and imagined. Along with her on her journey are her son and an assortment of rescued animals.
