I’m a doodler. Of all places, I picked up the habit one summer in a writing course at the Port Townsend Writer’s Conference. The instructor, Dan Chaon, began our week long class by teaching us how to draw monsters.
We started with a blank 8 1/2 x 11” sheet and drew one line down and one across, creating four equal-ish squares. In one box, we added a shape, such as a circle or triangle, and passed the paper to our right. Next, we drew a squiggly line or polka dots and again passed to the right. This went on two more times until all four squares had something inside.
That’s when the fun began!
Looking at the page in front of us, we were to choose one shape as a base for our creation. With enough time to finish but not overthink, we set ourselves to task, and the real world faded away. When done, we passed to the right and began another.
I don’t recall how it started or which shape I chose, but I penciled a giant duck that terrorized a small town. There’s a scene in my novel, Katy’s Song, that references the doodle—embellished a bit from my faded memory. A woman in class asked if she could keep it. I wish I’d taken a picture first.
By the end of the exercise, we each possessed a collaboration of four odd and wondrous drawings of newly formed beasts—as if they’d been hovering all along, waiting to land on the page. Similar to writing fiction, which might’ve been the point all along.
Before leaving for lunch, Dan Chaon advised, “Keep your monsters handy. You never know when you might need them.” He meant it literally, but I’d like to think the saying also applies metaphysically.
Ever since that class, I’ve used doodling to help me concentrate while listening to lectures, open mics, or podcasts. I’ve sprinkled a few throughout this blog, because they brighten my mood and I love color. I hope you feel the same.
Please note, if you wish to duplicate or use images and/or writings from this site that are original to me, you’ll need to obtain my written permission. I believe that’s fair.