It sort of started here.

In my About section, I talk about being born with an insatiable need to communicate by pairing words and images. As proof of this, I offer the following (as a side note, the grandmother I drove nuts by reading the dictionary was my father’s mother; more on that some other time).

When my maternal grandmother, Nans, died in 1999, I found this among her belongings:

I’m guessing I was about seven. I don’t remember creating it. But I was proud enough to dedicate it to my Nanny Francie (later in life I called her the truncated, more adult-sounding Nans).

I adored her. She encouraged my creativity, even though she wasn’t particularly creative. In fact, she was a no-nonsense woman raised in Indiana farm country. She was the third oldest–and oldest daughter–of 16 children. She helped raise her younger siblings. Because of this, or maybe in spite of it, she loved children. She loved chores, for that matter. OMG, she loved doing laundry! She proudly separated the whites from the colors (tattletale gray was unforgivable), and hung it all outside because she didn’t have a dryer (and besides, dryers aged fabrics too fast). Seems silly, making such a fuss over a mundane task, but I treasure the memory of being enveloped in crisp, fragrant sheets that have dried in the sun.

But I digress.

She would not indulge me with material things. I knew not to whine for toys in the supermarket. But I was fascinated with the typewriter in the spare room, and she let me play with it. Or maybe she left me alone in there to give herself a break. Whatever. I was in heaven in that room. Writing is such a deliciously solitary pursuit. And when I emerged from my confinement, masterpiece in hand, she was my fan, my gentle reader. She fed my soul.

It’s a funny thing: she’s been gone for almost 13 years, yet she still feeds my soul. Knowing her, I think she’d be both proud and embarrassed by this post, because she was humble. She taught me to be proud and humble, though I don’t always live up to either one.

So what did you think of my little masterpiece? It’s a real page turner, isn’t it? All four of them.

Copywriting, Graphic Design, Greeting Cards, Marketing Communications, Paper Crafting


My name is Dee Short. I’m a writer, graphic designer, crafter and appreciator of all things creative. I have a marketing communication practice, Dee Short Design, and like to dabble in handmade greeting cards. I love, love, love paper.

I’ve been struggling with designing a website, and it finally occurred to me that it’s probably a losing battle. I will never have the time to build a site that shows me or my work in an honest light. Or any light, for that matter. And if I do find that kind of time, it probably means I’m out of business.

This landing page was created in 2009. What have I been doing for three years? Let me think. I’ve been feeling overwhelmed and taunted by the ‘elephant’ on my plate. Even one little bite at a time, it’s too big to digest. So many years, so many projects. And I don’t want a website that simply functions as an online portfolio. Borrrrring. Besides, design is subjective. If, by casual viewing, you don’t care for one (or more) of my designs, it does me a disservice. Every project is a collaboration, and when it’s complete, all that matters is a solid outcome and a satisfied client. Otherwise, I’m not in business.

Which brings me to what else I’ve been doing: staying alive in this wretched economy. I’ve been watching the landscape shift and change. I’ve watched businesses merge or fall away; heard about the struggles of fellow designers. Some have thrown in the towel and are looking for other meaningful work, some are using food stamps(!), some are close to retirement age, not sure if they should stick it out. Me? I’ve watched my income trending downward for the last three years, but I’m surviving. Adapt or die, so I adapt. Trim the fat, be more proactive with self-promotion and marketing.

That’s why I’ve decided to create a limber blog, rather than labor on a lumbering website. This is a good fit for my constantly juggling attention span (or, to put a positive spin on it, my multitasking talents). It fits with my pinball machine neurons and synapses. It’s an indulgent place where I can dump my stuff. And you can get to know me, if you’d like.

I enthusiastically welcome your comments with one caveat: please be polite and thoughtful. I encourage differing viewpoints, as long as they’re constructive.

Thanks for visiting.