Looking for Shapes
The Practice of Looking Beyond (and a Prompt)
Art Lessons
Yesterday at my weekly art lesson, as she typically does, my teacher chose some random items from her gallery and arranged them on a pedestal for me to draw. She’s always intentional about how she sets them up, looking to challenge me with certain angles. And certain spaces.
As I worked, she happily noted how I was taking my time, measuring, and being deliberate with my lines.
And she was thrilled with how my drawing turned out! She noted how I’m improving quite quickly and said (with a laugh), “I’d ask if you’ve been practicing at home, but I already know the answer.”
The answer: I always think about practicing at home. 🤣


The Practice of “Looking”
Though I may not physically practice my drawing outside of my lesson, I do practice “looking.” Let me explain.
My teacher always tells me not to think about what I’m drawing. In other words, if she sets a shoe in front of me, I’m not to think “I’m drawing a shoe.” She tells me to look instead for shapes, including (especially) the negative space—the space (and shapes) around the objects.
So now I find that no matter what I’m doing, I’m picking out shapes, e.g., between my plants’ leaves, between dishes in my cupboard, between the branches of trees I pass while I’m walking.
All day long I’m looking for shapes. (And when I told my teacher that, she said she was excited to hear it—because she does the same thing!)
This is similar to what I often tell writers who say, sometimes sheepishly, that they don’t write every day: Thinking is a part of writing—a very important part. And it will help you improve. I do some of my best “writing” while I’m running; likewise, I do some of my best “drawing” while I’m walking! Of course, you do have to practice the actual skill at some point, too, but “practicing” without actually practicing does have some legitimacy.
A Shoe Is Not a Shoe
I’m frequently comparing what my teacher teaches me about drawing with what is true about writing. Specifically, she and I often talk about the critical thinking component of art. Particularly, the ability to look beyond. She says that some people can’t see beyond what an object is, which hinders their progress. It’s a shoe—I’m drawing a shoe. No, you’re just drawing shapes.
In my mind, creativity and critical thinking are indelibly linked. Both require looking beyond. If you see only the thing in front of you, you’re limiting yourself.
And this is apt advice for writing.
Especially when you’re stuck.
The other day, while contemplating a story I’m stalled on, I realized I needed to heed my own advice—from my video on writer’s block. I want very much for this story to work—I love the premise—but every time I approached it, I was only looking at what was there—or what I thought was there. I wasn’t looking beyond. I finally recognized that I needed to employ some “radical revision.” That is to say: What else can the story be? What can I do that will allow me to see beyond what’s written?
A shoe is not a shoe. A shoe forms from shapes and negative space.
And a story isn’t all that different.
Prompt: Pick a Line, Any Line
It’s easy to get stuck on what we think a story is, as opposed to what the story actually is. Creative thinking—and critical thinking—require flexible thinking.
For this prompt, take a draft that you might like aspects of but feel stuck in, and pick out one line or sentence that you think is interesting or at the heart of the story; make that sentence the first sentence of a new draft.
From there, let the story unfold anew. You may keep the original idea of the story, but I encourage you to start with a blank document and write a new draft without looking at the old draft. Surprise yourself. Look for “shapes” and not what you think should be there.
For the story I’m stuck on, I picked the very last sentence. What will happen when I move that sentence from the end of the story to the beginning?
What shapes will appear?


Love the prompt... I think it'll work well for poetry too!
I love this sort of side-door approach, because approaching something full-on so often leads to paralysis. It's like staring at the sun hoping to see it clearly!