Doodles 🖼️

It’s been a hot minute since I shared some doodles, so I felt like a post would be in order.

I’m not above using erasers or cover-up tape to make my drawings better if the first try goes awry. 😉

For my birthday last year, my awesome sister got me a doodle journal. I’ve had lots of writing journals over the years, but never one specifically to encourage my development as a visual artist.

Each page has a prompt. They range from very broad and easy to interpret to real headscratchers that make me amp my creativity and test my sketching abilities, like the day it suggested drawing the final scene from a movie (gulp!).

I spend just ten to thirty minutes on each drawing (the shortest sketch was my Easter tulips), often in-between grading and making a snack or at the end of the day when I’m wide awake but too mentally tired to dig into a draft in-progress.

I find I care much less about whether the sketches are realistic enough to satisfy my inner censors and much more about the fun of using the art supplies.

The slowdown is very rejuvenating on my nervous system—almost like swimming, I can feel the languid time opening up. I was thinking about that a lot this week, as I paged through what I’ve doodled so far and treated myself to a box of soft oil pastels, which are new to me.

This has also given me a chance to practice doodling people, one of my weakest skills. I gave it a whirl on a doodle of a Jane Austen book cover as well as my version of The Bard.

I used a variety of colored pens, colored pencils, gel ink, whatever was handy on these sketches.

Sometimes, I accompanied the sketch with a short sentence or two reflection, almost like a journal, either in answer to the prompt or just a thought on my mind, such as the day it was 18 degrees outside.

Enjoy this medley of doodles from my sketchbook, and may you continue to find enjoyment and inspiration in your own writing and artistic journeys! Create on. 🥳

Thanks for taking a look at these sketches and for all of your support of my books and teaching. Signed copies of my latest poetry book, Does It Look Like Her? , available at my Etsy store: clickety-click. Also, available (unsigned) through Amazon: clickety-click. 📔

This prompt asked doodlers to draw a self-portrait of themselves from another era. I drew myself in an 1860s tintype. My 1860s self is not as smiley. 😁

“Interior/Exterior: Reflections on Drawing a Scene” 🖼️

Happy March! I had so much fun writing a fresh flash essay about my doodle last month that I decided to create another one to share. 🤗

“Interior/Exterior: Reflections on Drawing a Scene”

I almost wrote this reflection yesterday afternoon, but I was hungry and promised myself that after eating I’d get right to it.  And then, I just needed to pay a bill quickly and I’d sit right down and write. And then, I remembered a time-sensitive email, and then…well, you know the rest.

Yesterday’s writing didn’t happen.  

Alas, I had the “perfect” hook pop into my head yesterday, but tonight is no longer yesterday. So, scrap that. My tone today is different, and my hook has evaporated like a cartoon bubble. So be it. This reflection won’t be about whatever that would have been, and that’s okay, too.

Earlier this week, I also promised myself some time to doodle during a break, and I did follow through on that intention. I decided to try to draw a scene—a whole interior SCENE!—which I haven’t attempted since…probably middle school. Yeah, it’s been a hot minute.

I usually doodle one thing at a time, or parts of a scene, or words/phrases paired with a mini doodle or two, but to fill a whole sheet with myriad elements kept my brain and my hand hopping.

I put on some music, broke out a coffee-table book filled with gorgeous photos, picked the one that called to me most as a reference photo that I then adjusted as I went.

I started my scene on a scrap piece of newsprint paper I bought online this summer in a jumbo, 500-sheet package.

There’s something about knowing that I’m not going to save the first drawing because it’s on the kind of paper that tears when an eraser hits it that frees up my creativity. Nobody will ever see this first sketch so, who cares? Onward!

Without contemplation first, hand motions of pencil on paper are often quite soothing.

I try to get that way about more things: that not skipping ahead to envision outcome. Sometimes, my creative process lands, and I don’t stop to examine or even to think about forming whatever I’m creating until I have a draft or five. Those are the best days.

More often, though, my mind loves nothing more than just to keep skipping ahead. Ahead, ahead, ahead!

I’m certainly not the only creative to find my process varies like this. Depending on my day, my mood, how tired I am, how hungry I am, fill-in-the-factor-here, the challenge of crafting something is either easier than imagined, or more frustrating than imagined, or (most frequently for me) somewhere in-between, but it’s rarely the same type of journey more than once.

Each piece needs something different of us, like every friend, like every life circumstance.

My original sketchbook scan in all of its uncropped glory, spirals and all.🤗

So, my interior scene (which I also drew in pencil first, free-hand, on the sketchpad page and then traced with felt-tipped marker and pops of color from watercolor pencils) has some walls that are certainly not architecturally sound, a baseboard that shouldn’t look like it’s cutting through one of the plant’s fronds, some picture frames that are crooked despite practicing perspective, and a chair that I’m pretty sure doesn’t even resemble a chair.

On the other hand, I got the happiest kick while drawing the arched doorway between the rooms that reminded me of more than one friend’s home, and drawing the little locks on the big bay window, and then having a light-bulb moment about adding in a pop of life-giving green on the plants, and attempting some splash of light across the floors, and making the one rug a sisal rug with squiggle motions, and then drawing lines for wooden floors, my favorite flooring—all, nothing but joy and in the flow. 

The floors!

The wooden floors. That’s right—I was going to write something about those yesterday.

There was also originally going to be something about the lemonade I tried recently and loved. But today’s reflection needed to be the way it turned out here—about the challenges (for me, anyway) of drawing whole scenes in scale and with perspective but doing it anyway, and something about the comfort of putting elements together that make an interior that becomes exterior, which is also, pretty much, what we do when we create, whether it’s a conversation, a painting, a poem, a dance, or a birthday party. So be it.

On the balance, not bad for a cozy interior. Not great or professional, but not shabby, either.  Onward!

Indispensable: New Doodle Art and Flash Essay 😃

I don’t often publish musings or unpublished essays in my blog, so I thought it’d be fun to sit down, write one, and share it tonight. Ta-da. 💐

Indispensable 

I’ve begun to sort through clothes and such for donation a half an hour here and there, a half bag at a time, low-key and gradual. 

I’m very grateful to have more than I need. It’s meaningful to inventory and also to pare back and then pare back again. To make room and space. To share. As I’m sorting, I imagine the new uses and happiness the items will bring others as I fold and accumulate things in the donation bags as well as the money it’ll bring the thrift store and their charities. A few things had a random pull or hole or stain and went into the circular file/garbage.  I also have found some sweaters and dresses I forgot all about and haven’t worn in a few years, so they feel new to me and ready for another season of enjoyment. I call the latter “shopping in my own closet,” and it’s a great way to save money and time.

The process of sorting is, much like the rest of life, figuring out what is essential—what lights us up inside—and what we’re tired of and ready to change or switch out for a while.

I’ve also been reading a new book about sketching and so my mind is in the mood for seeing older or ordinary things with fresh eyes, like the beautiful shape of the dish-liquid bottle. Suddenly, walking into the room, I saw the bottle outline anew and took a half-hour break to break out my new watercolor pencils that I’ve had in my tote bag of art supplies for almost three months but not used before now. I’ve used dish soap since I was a kid and literally never thought about the shape of the bottle until drawing this sketch.  My hand-drawn bottle shape turned out a bit different (read: uneven) than the uniformly graceful curve of the original bottle, but there’s authenticity in that, so instead of scrapping it, I ran with it.

Also, the word “indispensable” is one that makes me sweat before I write or type it, because I’ve misspelled it for years. I looked it up about five times before doodling it with the marker and misspelled it when I first typed this paragraph. It’s a tricky word, with several different vowels and the –able ending instead of the –ible. My brain wants to insist it’s an –ible. I have to slow down or doublecheck. Much like the process of sorting, it has something to show me, something worthwhile I get to learn again and again at my own pace and little by little, like most worthwhile things.

So, I almost chose another word for my sketch, but then I pushed through it (and checked it a few more times, just in case), using the word after all. Sometimes, it’s worth persevering, and other times, not so much and it’s okay to sort it out and do something else. You’ll know as you go; do what works best for you in your art and in your life.    

To 2023! 🎉

I bought this fanciful party horn at a greeting-card store and have lost track of when.

Doodle by yours truly. Mechanical pencil, Paper Mate Flair Medium and Arteza Bold 1.0 mm pens, and sketchbook paper. Digital filter used in larger version seen below.

It doesn’t have a year on it and the store is now out of business. It has golden paper that shimmers and a fluffy frill of ebony feathers that I think gets prettier with time.

It’s a little crooked (in real life and in my drawing) but holds a lot of hope and cheer.

Each time this calendar year we get to start over, to reset, to look ahead in art and in life, and that feels fitting and good. Thanks for all of your camaraderie and support.

Here we go, 2023! To all that we’ll create and experience in the year ahead!