I’m sitting at my dining room table right now with this:
Eighteen coloring book pages, including four placeholders for pages that aren’t done yet (two finished but not yet scanned, one mid-inking, one waiting to be sketched). I’ve got them in an order I like, and the cover art is on my computer.
I keep looking at the table and wondering where all these pages came from. I don’t remember doing that much work! It might have something to do with how much childish glee I’ve gotten from drawing these. Friends who’ve been around me while I draw can vouch for this. Every so often I’ll burst into giggles and say something like “SPACE TIARA!” out of the blue. They put up with this behavior. I have good friends. (Who appreciate space tiaras.)