Ovals, Feathers,& the Trouble With Sky

I know these are imperfect drawings. I hesitated, but included them anyway, so you can see how much fun this can be.

I am in love again, this time with a shape. As soon as I pick up the pen, my hand draws an oval and then it can’t stop. Big ones, small ones, one after another. I don’t know why. Maybe because they are so easy. One lovely swoop and it’s done! I always begin carefully, and the first few are fine, but then I get excited, and go too fast, and when completing the oval, a line quivers, or one end meets the other in a tiny blob of ink. I could turn that imperfection into the eye of a fish, but it might not be a fish. They might be clams, or spaceships or even planets. I don’t know yet, So I color them in. Badly.

Speaking of drawing, and I usually am speaking of drawing, there’s the problem of sky. When I was a kid a strip of blue went across the top and that was that. But now I know sky is everywhere, and if the creature I am making has lots of feathers on her tail, and some on her head, and so does her baby, and their skinny beaks are touching, well, how do I stick sky in such narrow spaces? Not to mention branches with leaves drooping down. It’s easier with words. Words are more efficient, but words fail me these days, and I need to make things that are separate from me. Otherwise, I might resort to reckless shopping.

Yesterday I made a whole solar system with a red pen. Stars and moons and fish and planets and clams and unidentified flying objects. So much is going on I don’t notice the flaws. Looking at it makes me dizzy. And that makes me laugh.

This is my new strategy for staying sane: if you’re a writer who can’t write, maybe fool around with drawing. Forget perfection. Enjoy yourself. Maybe start with an oval.