Picking up the pen in his usual fashion he let his hand guide the journey. As it slid across the paper like a paint brush on a canvas the creation came to life. If he took a moment to pause and think about the character the creativity would stall. Focused, he didn’t want to miss the chance to meet him, so he shut out the world and followed the pen’s lead.
As the large black ears started to develop he wasn’t quite sure what he was drawing yet, but he knew it was something memorable. No drawing was ever the same. There were no recognizable resemblances between them and no predictable patterns. Each character was new and it’s very own.
The pen stalled as he started to analyze where to go next. He lifted the pen from the paper, frustrated and almost angry that his brain would do that to him. He shook his head as if to shake the thoughts from his mind and placed his palm on his cool forehead. Gently smacking his palm against his forehead he ushered the analytical thoughts away.
“Stop thinking, just draw.”
He allowed the pen to find the paper once again and the smooth ink rolled across it as if it were the first line he had drawn that day. Minutes passed and he realized there was now a round, jolly, little belly that existed and it wasn’t very far from the ears. He laughed as he envisioned what this might turn into. All of a sudden a button nose appeared but it was much further out from the characters non-existent face. He was unique.
“This little fella needs a face”, he thought as his pen wistfully connected the thin nose to a wide smile.
The end of the pen met his chin as he admired the creation that revealed itself in its final form. A mouse. Not just any mouse, this little fella was memorable just as he had predicted. He smirked as his pen found the paper once again. Black scrawny legs connected to large and potentially cumbersome shoes emerged only to be balanced out by bulky gloves at the end of both his stick forearms. Was he done?
His arms slowly crossed over his chest as he leaned back in his chair. The pen lay lifeless on the pad of paper as he gazed toward the ceiling. Thoughts traveled through his head about the travels this fella would take, and whom he would meet. His friends may even be more memorable than him, he thought. The mouse won’t ever be lonely, he’d make sure of that and he’d inspire love and friendship. He’d embody optimism and a can do attitude. Yes, that was him. His wide smile already reflected that.
As he sat forward and admired this mouse that had somehow created itself within his hand, he realized there was only one thing left to do to bring him to life. He needed a name.
Before another thought could make its way into his mind the pen had found the paper one last time. An M formed as script swiftly followed.
Mickey. Mouse.
