I recently saw a bunch of kids drawing.
They had paper and pencils and colored markers, and while I only watched for a couple minutes, it only took me that long to realize: “I can’t do this.”
If I had tried, I think I would have just stared at my arm and my hand. Even if I had thought of something to draw, if it was anything other than basic stick figure, I don’t think I could have done it.
Well, at the very least, I couldn’t have drawn anything I’d ever want another person to see.
At least when I have writer’s block, I know that if I can actually force an idea out of my head, there’s a chance I could attach words to that idea.
If I had to write something describing a scene in Central Park, I could do it, especially if I took notes of what I saw and had pictures to help me with the visuals.
But if you asked me to draw that same scene, like “Central Park, Winter,” by William James Glackens, which is pictured at the top of this post? No chance.
It’s just not a skill I have, nor is it one I’ve ever had.
The good news is that I’m decent at taking relatively simple photos on my phone and pretty good at stringing words together, so I think I’ll just stick with those.