Several months ago I started the process of applying to graduate school. Researching universities, composing a portfolio, nagging former, always supportive professors for letters of recommendation, drafting and re-drafting and re-re-drafting a personal statement, requesting copies of my undergraduate transcript, attaining the English translation of my diploma because apparently not everyone is fluent in Latin… it was a multi-layered undertaking. Of course, that was just to get accepted. Once I had the acceptance there was the visa application, which is an animal all its own. But at long last, here I am. In London. Ready to start a degree in Children’s Book Illustration and Graphic Novels.

Though it was only within the last year that I started applying, the passion, interest, and love for Children’s literature has been with me for years. After college I considered illustration a hobby I would be able to maintain in my free time. And in many ways this is exactly what it was for me, foregoing store-bought cards for handmade ones, sketching here and there in art books, doodling little dogs on the bottom of receipts. But as anyone who has worked with me knows I am not the most adept at a life-work balance. I wanted to dedicate more time to learning and exploring illustration yet finding the time was difficult. Attempts to connect with others on work or advice on getting started fell short. Eventually I came to the crossroad: either make an attempt to pursue my passion or spend my life wondering.

Doubts as to whether or not this was a good idea, to leave a full-time job working with some truly incredible people to move halfway across the globe, evaporated when I was accepted into not one but two programs. The decision felt right. At last I was moving in the direction I truly wanted.

So that’s how I landed on the decision of moving to the UK for a year (or more???). Next came actually getting to jolly ‘ol London. My life became packing. For the better part of two weeks every time I picked up an item, from toothbrush to tuning fork, I contemplated whether or not it was a necessity which would be critical in my trip across the Atlantic. Two checked bags, one rolling carry-on, and a backpack somehow had to hold everything I would need for four season (though I understand London sometimes seems to only have two: cloudy or cloudy with rain). It was a struggle. Slowly items had to be eliminated, choices made, sweaters or jeans or shoes left behind. I thought I was doing so well when at long last I was able to zip closed all my bags. How proud I was for about ten minutes until I brought down the scale and weighed them. Of course just because something fits doesn’t mean it ships (USPS doesn’t run the airlines). 50lbs max for the checked and 22lbs for the carry-on was all that I had, and I was more than a little over. Frustrated thoughts such as "My clothes aren’t that big, why are they so heavy?” and “Maybe if I squeeze more air out of these packing bags that’ll take 5lbs off.” So after rationing bobby pins, weighing my need for three books vs. surviving with only two, scanning some of my recipes to GoogleDrive, and parting with yet more clothes and such, I got the weight down to my allotted amount. Maybe I couldn’t bring everything I had hoped, but I was able to bring what mattered to me (although I am still wondering if a bunny would have counted as my small, personal item…)

It’s both terrifying and exciting when you realize you’d rather pursue what you love than succeed doing anything else. The biggest reason why any of this was possible, from applying to getting to London, is thanks to the support of my family and friends. (Shout out to Treat Yourself Travel for booking my flight!! Premium economy made me feel like royalty. Two checked bags included? Early and expedited boarding? A complimentary glass of prosecco when I got to my seat? A footrest for during the flight? Never going to be able to fly basic economy again.) So thank you, to everyone who got me here. I’m keeping the kettle hot for all of you to visit :)

taking off