Step 8. Bronx cheer from Brooklyn

Another sketch from the Tropical Pavilion at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden. I was charmed by this plant, Pavonia Multiflora from Brazil.

I sketched it quickly in the garden and then colored it in a simple style when I got home.

When I researched the plant, I smiled at a description that the flower looks like it's sticking out its tongue. The author of The Artist Way, Julia Cameron, prepares the reader to expect some criticism from others as you work through the book. That happened to me this week, and this flower came in handy. I wouldn't stick out my tongue in response to negative remarks, but the flower on my page will.

Step 7. Stay a little longer

After my Artist Date yesterday and sketching the knitted flowers in the gallery, I wasn't ready to go home, and I had enough time to walk through the tropical plants room before I had to end the date. A couple of flowering plants in the conservatory caught my eye.

I wanted a couple of quick sketches to put in my Artist Date notebook, and that's all. As I was drawing a bloom, a woman stopped to ask what I was writing about.

"I'm not writing anything actually. I'm drawing this flower," I said to her.

"Oh," she said. "Drawing."

And then she said, "Why are you drawing? Is that plant interesting?" I wasn't sure how to answer her question.

"Well, I guess that's up to you to decide," I said.

She must not have found it as interesting as I did because she walked away and didn't linger. I would have liked to linger longer, but it was time for me to head back to the subway and make the long ride home, but not until I stopped at the gift shop and bought a couple of plants to take along with me.

Step 6: Go on a date

I went on a date today. I was looking forward to it for over a week, and it was as good as I expected it to be.

If you've read The Artist's Way like I'm reading it right now, you'll know what I mean by Artist Date. The date is a weekly outing you take by yourself to be inspired, to have fun, to get a change of scenery, to recharge. This week I picked the Knit, Purl, Sow exhibition at the Brooklyn Botanic Gardens.

I was smitten, sight-unseen, when I first heard about the show, and going to see it in person was the perfect way to treat myself to a date. The art pieces were larger-than-life botanicals made out of knitting. Seriously. How cool is that?

After walking through the exhibit, I sat down and sketched some of the pieces in my tiny sketchbook I bought especially to use on Artist Dates so I could remember them later when my spirit needs a pick-me-up.

An elderly man sat on the bench next to me and we had a conversation. At one point, he leaned closer to me and asked if I was a knitter. I told him no. "I like to draw," I said. "You do?!" he said in surprise and pulled back up straight. I was drawing the whole time we talked, but I guess some people don't pay that much attention to what's right in front of them.

As he left, I said, "Have a good day," and he said, "How could I not? Every day you're alive is a good day."

I've had a bunch of bad days in recent months, and the man's comments reminded me that I'm set out to have as many good days as I can bank. You've got to store up the good ones to see you through the bad ones, I've learned. But sometimes you don't get an entire day that you'd count as good, so I'm learning to pay more attention to the good moments, even if they last just a minute. Sitting on a bench in a gallery sketching knitted renditions of giant flowers talking to an old man about how he takes his wife to art exhibits counted for a few good moments.

Later, at home, I received bad news in an email that hurt my heart. There's no script to follow, as someone reminded me recently, when you receive bad news. You're on your own.

I picked up my little sketchbook and colored pencils, and I filled in the outlines like a little girl with a coloring book. I colored until my whole universe was on that page and I could live there.

I don't want to show up empty-handed, even on a notebook page. Especially on a notebook page. I need to bring something to it, give myself, and that's where living a life comes in handy. What happens in life goes through my soul and ends up, somehow in some way, on the page. Good or bad, like it or not, that's where I am.

Tonight I went to a book club meeting up the street. I brought salad, friends brought wine and cookies and cheese and crackers, and the host made chicken with cream, mushrooms, and noodles. Now that I'm home again, I will read some, draw some if I'm not too tired, pray, and then I will go to sleep with a cat or two next to me and with my notebook set up for early morning writing.

I'm alive and on the page, and that, I know, means it was a good day.