I've been thinking about this, and it's funny how I've never felt 'jealous' of the image of a Writer. You know the one, all the artfully arranged photos of Moleskine notebooks alongside the obligatory mug of herbal tea in a dedicated writing nook, or sat in a cafe looking Intellectual for the benefit of Instagram. I find all of that vaguely pretentious and not at all conducive to creativity. I'm far more comfortable twisted into a knot on the sofa with a cheap reporter's notebook and whatever Biro I could find that still worked, or tapping away on a decidedly NOT Apple laptop on the dining room table. Whatever gets the job done, really.

And yet. If I try to apply the same logic to making art, I can't. I feel like my doodles or sketches aren't Proper Art because I did them in a meeting with a Sharpie on an old envelope, not in a dedicated studio. Or I was just faffing about with a fineliner and watercolours to see if I could draw a fox, rather than trying to express some innermost truth about class struggle or something.

Creativity is weird.