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lo-and-behold-ocelittle · 4 years ago

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I actually wrote something. Blink and you’ll miss it. @whygodohgodwhy thanks for the prompt, @your-fluffy-murder-writer thank you for bringing it to my attention

“Small talk is for cowards. Tell me about your parents’ untimely murder.”

Maurice' inquisitive stare was unnerving and wholly different from his usual, very punchable smirk. Had he dragged her into the Silver Hide to ask her this—this one—of all questions? What an idiot. Effie carefully lowered her cocktail and, after pushing it out of the way, deflated across the counter until her hands dangled over the far edge. Flicking her wrists up and down periodically, she pressed her forehead against the wooden slab and waited for it to reply in her stead; it didn't—and it wouldn't until happy hour came around—and even then, Effie surmised, the counter top's list of discounted drinks was not the reply he was waiting for.

"What the fuck, Maurice?"

Their end-term circuitry assignment had been due today alongside a practical demonstration. Weren't they here to celebrate everything worked without a hitch? Well, almost none; apparently, and contrary to Amidea's insistence, not everybody liked Floofaloos and they found that out when another student tried to set their varmint on fire—hardly their fault. That aside the summoning worked flawlessly, their bait-and-tether-scheme proving efficient and effective. They passed with merit. And after all that, was this really how today will flame out, Maurice?

"Uh, beg your pardon?"

"I said—" and with a sigh Effie slid herself back into an upright position, retrieving her drink— "what the shit, Maurice."

"Oh, I heard you the first time. So, what happened to your parents?"

Effie rolled her eyes and shunned him with silence. A couple passed them, seating themselves in one of the somewhat secluded booths at the back. Effie wished she was here with Amidea instead; the dryad had never tried to shine a spotlight on her past. She gave her glass a good swirl. The liquids formed a purple vortex, which speedily climbed up the sides. It rose above the rim, but instead of sploshing all over her hand, it kept on rising and rising, forming a shaky column in the air. She opened her mouth and beckoned her drink inside.

"I'm dry, so I think I'll turn in for tonight…" Brave move, Maurice, but this is none of your business. She reached for her wallet. Just then, as if someone had tied a feather to the tail of her last thought, something itched at the back of her mind. The coins were already on the counter, but sure as death and taxes she hadn't placed them there… What in…

"Wait, wait!" Maurice jumped from his chair and intercepted her before she could put on her jacket. "Would you stay, if I bought you another one?"

And then it clicked. Oh, oh bother…

"Well… An offer so kind, I'd be a fool to refuse." Flashing Maurice a smile, she stuffed away her wallet, tied her jacket around her waist and climbed back onto her stool. He had bought the first drink too. None of the usual begging, the puppy dog eyes nor any of his other cheap antics had he displayed today. How intriguing… and drop-dead suspicious. For the first time this evening, Maurice diverted his unblinking ogle to the chalk board above the bar.

"What would you, um, like? Another of those… uh…" Why was he squinting? Did something happen to his eyes? Or perhaps…

"Come on, Maurice, don't tell me you left your glasses at home again?" Effie asked with pointed disbelief. His hand wandered down to where other shirts might have had a breast-pocket, but hastily slid by and patted around his other pockets.

"I suppose you're right. That's where I must have left them." Effie took a deep breath. As if annoyed by her dangling sleeves, she tucked them into her pockets, thereby completing a circuit woven into the fabric. A precaution. Maurice doesn't wear glasses. What kind of a fraud was this? And what's with the question about the death of her parents? More information, she needed more information! These thoughts racing through her mind, she decided to throw "Maurice" another bait.

"Just spell yourself some; we learnt the formula in illusional optics like, when? Last semester?" And laying on extra thick: "C'mon, Sperry, that old hag, even had you demonstrate it to the entire class because you were so good at it!" Maurice shifted uncomfortably.

"Uh um, I don't recall it right now. Sure it was last semester and not longer ago?" Effie chuckled. You came up with the spell yourself, idiot, long before we even met. Watching "him” flip-flop was entertaining—no denying that—but this line of questioning would probably give her game away before she could figure out who was really behind the blunt inquiry into her past.

"Are you mocking me?" Oh neat, was that a nervous tremor in his voice? Until now, with his complete lack of blinking, Effie had assumed she was dealing with some sort of replication—a bad one someone had hastily crafted lacking proper routines and research—but regardless of how badly they had been made: replications do not get nervous. Perhaps a dynamic illusion on a bad actor? Those tend to break on close contact: a punch? A hug? A ki—

"Effie?"

Realising it was her turn to reply Effie brought up her hands in self-defence. "Gosh, no, sorry. I didn't mean… It's just that—" Effie coughed to cover another chuckle— "you can be such a ditz at times. Wait, wait. Oh, don't look at me like that! Alright, no need to sulk, I'll give you a hand. But only tonight, okay?"

"Fair, what do you need me to do?" This was almost too easy. She'd touch him and the whole thing would fall apart.

"Here, just lean a bit closer." To her surprise Maurice immediately obliged. Huh, not an illusion then, are you? As he drew closer, she noticed a blotchy web of blood vessels slowly spreading around his twitching irises. Not a replication, not an illusion, and yet you still refuse to blink… A polymorph? Or was this actually the real Maurice in a bit of a bind?

"So, about the murder of your parents…"

"Hold it, Maurice," Effie pressed through clenched teeth; organic circuitry was her strong suit but constructing a spell with two covert addenda did not leave her mind free resources to commit to polite conversation. Tiny sparks jumped the gap as she brought her index and thumb together. Circuit locked. The rings she formed where about as round as the circles she drew as a toddler, but they would do. "Now hold still."

"Mhm." Maurice nodded. Effie sighed.

"What did I say? Ah! No, don't respond." She placed her joined fingers over his eyes and extended the rest of them across his temples. Definitely not an illusion… The muscles in her hand contracted in a familiar way as she passed the flux through her body; practice prevented her from digging her nails into his skin. You could always tell when the younger semesters started their introduction to organic circuitry by a sudden surge in inadvertently clenched fists being waved around campus.

"Tell me, once the curvature is right."

The air in front of Maurice' eyes turned viscous, quickly taking an oblong shape with a wavy, rounded edge. As Effie grew the lattice, the addenda pulsed between her other fingers, prodding Maurice' thaumic resistance and response. Effie knew them by heart: sampling had been a routine procedure during their assignment. But—outside a controlled environment and without proper lab equipment—this was going to be a rough estimate at best.

"The right one's good, but I think you overshot left." Effie frowned. His resistance was completely off: not lower as she had anticipated from a polymorph but so high her pulses were sapped before they reached her other hand. She didn't need instruments to detect they barely passed between fingertips of the same hand. And the response was... enigmatic.

"Yeah, almost… That's it." Effie retained the stance for another moment, just long enough to deconstruct her addenda, before ending the circuit; better not scatter any suspicious remnants into the face of a suspected fraud.

"I'll channel the spell until we leave," she stated falling back onto her stool. "You better get your crap together by tomorrow though." Effie was turning to the bartender to order another drink, when she saw Maurice’ finger inch towards one of the lenses flanking the bridge of his nose. By the gods fucking damnit. As if on cue, Maurice paused to look at her.

"Don't touch the illusion, idiot, you'll break it." Maurice lowered his finger, still unblinking. While waiting for her drink to arrive, Effie reclined back against the counter and watched Maurice spin on his stool. His eyes ran up and down the chalkboard, jumped over the other guests in the room, and dwelled on the couple in back. By the time he turned back, a smug grin had appeared on his face that was at least familiar to her in an indentable manner. He opened his mouth to speak—

"Pay up first!" Effie chimed and nodded towards the bartender. Maurice had a bad reputation and no one in their right mind would allow him to accumulate a tab. Three coins rolled out of his hand. Had this clumsy fool subtly reached for his wallet so swiftly and elegantly she of all people had failed to notice? In your dreams, Maurice, in your dreams; this off-hand magic is beyond your abilities.

"So…"

“…about the untimely murder of my parents?" Maurice nodded. "Go on. Just ask me what you want to know."

"Why do you think it was murder?" Befittingly Effie furrowed her brow. The insane resistance, the lack of blinking… Was he possessed? It would explain his sudden generosity, but what could have been the conduit?

"Why I think it was murder… Let me turn that around: why do you think it was murder?"

The second time this evening Maurice surprised her by responding without hesitation: "Someone slipped me an envelope with old newspaper snippets. It didn't take much thinking to notice something suspicious about that." Bingo.

"What? The papers?" Effie pried. Those snippets had to be some forty... fifty years old by now! How very unlikely without divine intervention.

"Not them. That. The envelope. Why would anyone send me such an envelope, if there wasn't something weird about it." Could it be Her? The nemesis? Would She really dare come here on such a flimsy plot hook only to flaunt her rhetorical questions? "Did I say something wrong?"

"Yes! No! Um, I mean—" stuttered Effie, whose mind had been dwelling on her last thought. "Sorry, do go on. What did those snippets say?" Checking if this really was Her was easy: all she had to do was turn the drama up to eleven.

"The gist was: Mr and Mrs Miranelli died in a tragic steam-coach accident that resulted in the destruction of their vehicle and its prototype engine. The National Theatre Society is bereaved at the loss of acclaimed actor Leanelle..."

Effie waved her hand, wiping away an imaginary tear. "Yeah, yeah. I know the rest," she sniffled, "and now you're asking me whether I know what really happened? Don't you know how painful this is?" Too much? Maurice immediately swooped in, putting his arm around her drooping shoulders and stroking her head. Just right.

"There, there." By the gods—all of them except Her—the book-bitch was really spying on her and using Maurice as a vessel. It took Effie all her willpower to maintain the act; had he been responsible for his actions, Maurice would be crying in a corner by now.

"Just tell me all about the murder of your parents, when you're ready." What a nice way of saying: tell me, in how much trouble I am.

"I've got all night, dear." You might, but Maurice doesn't. Effie had to get the Goddess of Fate out of Maurice' body before she ruined more than just his eyesight. When powerful entities possess a body, they tend to burn through it in a matter of hours. Perhaps, with a little extra effort and a tiny bit of luck, she could find and disable the conduit circuitry. Let's hope he's suppressed and remembers none of this in the morning.

"Th-thank you," she sobbed and threw her arms around him, touching her hands behind his back and burying her face in his chest—what a relief to no longer have to hide her simpering.

"There was a blizzard… And the road… The road was very bendy…

"And another vehicle forced them off the road...?” Maurice, no, the Goddess in Maurice' body suggested misleadingly. Effie decided to buy in; whatever narrative the Goddess was trying to make her spin, She had a goal in mind.

"Nn… nyes. They hit a tree… A pressure valve broke..."

"And then the engine caught fire…?"

"Mhm…”

"They must have burnt in the wreck then…?" Had that been Her original plan for her parents? The Goddess of Fate was conducting this entire circus just to right an old, screwed-up narrative? Did she kick up this much of a fuss about all her derailed plots or just those, who managed to stick it to her goons? Effie embraced him a bit harder than necessary and squeezed the wind from his lungs.

"Irk... poor girl..."

She softened her grip again. Nothing. While they had been talking—Maurice talking and Effie trying her best to seem miserable—she had probed the field surrounding Maurice' body, looking for irregularities stronger than the interference she produced by clinging to him. And: nothing. There had to be a divine conduit somewhere on his body for the Goddess to maintain her possession! From what she had heard, it could only be the envelope Maurice had received, maybe even one of the snippets inside. But: nothing. Her circuitry came back inconclusive. Even crumpling all pockets of his vest simultaneously returned nothing, not even the tiniest of rustles—it just left Maurice wheezing. As far as she could tell, there was no paper on his person. No conduit to destroy, no way to free Maurice of the Goddess. Ah, to hell with it…

"Answer me one thing though, Maurice." Effie dropped the whimper and withdrew herself from the hug. "Did any of those snippets mention their daughter?" Maurice froze, veins swelling all over his face until he looked like he was about to pop an aneurysm. Effie clawed small strands of fabric from her mouth and downed the rest of her drink—he had paid for it and she wasn't going to let that go to waste.

"Humans blink, you colossal moron. Look!" She pointed at an empty table behind him. Maurice turned his head.

"There's no one—"

SMACK!

His glasses exploded in a flash of light as Effie sucker-punched through them. Right on the brow. Maurice crashed to the floor, taking two more stools with him. Effie tore the jacket from her waist and threw it into the air. She gave him no breather: a glowing rune appeared on his vest—her tongue curled at the memory of it—and locked onto its reaction circuit. The jacket slammed into the cobwebbed ceiling, upsetting decades of dust. Maurice cursed, righting himself up just as the full force of the spell came to bear on him. He was back on the floor before he knew it.

CRACK!

"Shit!" Effie winced and profoundly hoped that sound had come from one of the floorboards. Immediate feedback suggested he was no longer struggling against her spell and—

"He's out." The barkeeper barked, glancing at the limp figure on the floor. "Now cut the crap, missus, I don't need a skylight in 'ere!

She didn't hear him. Why didn't she resist? The first blow must have taken her by surprise but not breaking out of her pin-down—a celestial of her calibre?

"Oi! Ye list'nin'!?"

A thin red line crept out of his ear and began accumulating in a pool beside his head. She hadn't broken him, had she? Oh no, no… no!

The bartender cleared his throat: "Effie, dear, stop crushing the poor sod."

Her jacket dropped to the floor and her jaw followed suit. Impossible! Even the divines required a conduit! This was unheard of! Effie turned to face the bartender. He was leaning on the counter and regarded her with the same unblinking stare Maurice had exhibited the entire evening.

"How did you—"

"He should see a doctor asap," remarked calm voice behind her back. Right, Maurice... Shit! Despite their past grievances the Goddess seemed unwilling to pounce her just yet. Two people, the young couple from earlier, kneeled beside Maurice, one taking his pulse and checking his breathing while the other concernedly examined his head. Three steps and she knelt beside them, shaking all over.

"I- I know some restoration spells," she hastily offered but the woman affixing his head declined.

"You'd just hurt him even more. This isn't a graze or a simple cut. You have no idea what the inside of his head—probably any head—looks like."

"Tch, do you?"

"Yes." Their eyes met and Effie let out a yelp. She was back on her feet before it had cleared her throat but one of the lying stools caught her backing heel. The world spun and she tumbled towards counter when someone grabbed her flailing arm.

"Whoa, young lady! We don't need you banging your head as well, do we?" Effie mumbled her thanks to the dwarf, who had conveniently appeared and began picking up the stools. The Goddess was able to possess two, no, three people simultaneously? Just as unheard of as possessions without a conduit. But by her own accord she understood the nature of Maurice' injury—

"So, you can help him—heal him—right?" The woman didn't respond but from the corner of her eye she saw the bartender shake his head.

"We forfeited our right to use magic on the prime plane a long time ago."

"You're the first divine I've met to ever bring that up." Maurice looked worse by the moment. "Perfect timing!”

"I'm not the one, who bashed his head against the floor."

"I KNOW!" Jolted by her outburst more patrons rose to their feet and agglomerated around Maurice in a circle of loose clusters. "But I NEED to help him!"

"And you will, dear, just take a seat and listen to me." There was no point in arguing. Begrudgingly Effie settled back onto her stool.

"Now what?!" The bartender's unperturbed face resonated well with the other patrons', who appeared to be similarly uninvolved while observing her very closely. It sent shivers up her spine to have so many eyes resting in her.

"I can't heal him, but I can help. Quite frankly: things are not as bad as they seem. The local clinic has a couple of experienced anatomists in their neurology department and they're expecting us—I know that for a fact, I alerted them." Effie took a deep breath and carefully picked her words. She never thought she'd say this to her nemesis but for Maurice' sake…

"How can I help you?"

"You've threaded an impressive arsenal into this garment." The bartender retrieved her jacket from the floor. "One of my patrons is an obviator and he's about to finish moulding a barrier around your friend's body. But no one here is as nimble as you are. Take my poor child to the ER—the quick way."

"Wait," Effie objected while slinging her arms into her sleeves, "I thought you're not allowed to use magic on prime!"

"Oh, I'm not involved there: he's using his own skills as he sees fit. I might have given him a little nudge though."

"Then… you’re not possessing any of these people?"

"The ones standing here? Not in the strict sense, no. All of them are my children and I care about them deeply. I wouldn't want any one of them to get hurt."

"What about me?" The bartender's eyes turned into slits.

"You. You are a turbulence in my narrative, a nuisance preventing my children from fulfilling their destinies." Effie rolled her eyes and straightened her collar.

"Thank goodness, and I was afraid we'd bond over this." She buttoned up her jacket. "So, about the untimely murder of my parents…?"

"An inept plot hook on my side—I apologise—but let's save that conversation for another time." Effie followed the point of his arm. Some distance above the floor, encased in a scintillating membrane Maurice adhered to the obviator's outstretched hand.

"He's ready to be signed over." Effie limbered up a bit, wringing her shoulders and cracking her knuckles before the spell did it for her and left her stuck with the sensation. Three steps and her hand settled next to his. A breath later she had usurped his channelling and the obviator drew away. The other patrons opened their circle and took a few cautious steps back. One by one the fingers on her free hand probed the weaves in her sleeve. To her delight the door had been opened and the heavy curtain to keep the cold air out drawn back. The fewer objects she had to interact with the better.

But how on Earth had the Goddess of Fate gained control of every person in this bar? She brushed it aside: a question for tomorrow. Effie closed her eyes and tapped a parallel channel to her source. The initiation sequence spread up her arm and fanned out across her body, enclosing Maurice in the same plexus.

"Try not to run over any pedestrians, dear. I'm drowning in your revisions lately."

"I'll try to keep our future interactions to a minimum." The world being Her stage this was going to be challenging. A drop in flux signalled the construction was complete and the spell ready to use.

"And Euphemia..?"

"Yeah?"

"I- We all would like you back as part of our family."

"I imagine." Maurice in tow, Effie took a step forward and the world stalled.

Quote Prompt

“Small talk is for cowards. Tell me about your parents’ untimely murder.”

#lmao i wrote something #story prompt #writing #original fiction #melphi #writeblr

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lo-and-behold-ocelittle · 5 years ago

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“Horror Vacui” or the fear of the blank page [for amateur artists]

[A really long post]

If you fit this description, this post is for you:

I’m a hobby artist/writer/creator with a broad interest and I don’t have enough to time to practice any of my interests beyond the amateur level. Creating is something I commit to about 10 to 15 times a year - when I need help, I don’t want to take an online course, just give it to me quick and dirty and I’ll see to the turnover.

This post contains:

mandatory motivation delineation

step-by-step drawing guide for amateur artists by an amateur artist

all reference pictures for the above

tracing - a technique shunned by my Grade 8 art teacher and the last time I attended art class

cross-hatching and contours

a tiny bit of perspective

a bit of shading

tools

tips for shaky hands

Why this post, when the internet has countless of tips to overcoming writers’/artists’/creators’ block already?

I mean, Google churns out some 20 million search results in under 0.55 seconds! That’s like 10 search results you are might look at tops - 20 if you’re desperate enough to go to page 2 - and realize most of the tips a lot of work, not worth the trouble, things you’ve tried before, or too abstract to be applicable to the thing.

One thing most of these guides get right: getting started is the most crippling step of the creative process.

The most common advice to overcoming your block - so I have read countless times - is establishing a routine until you “instinctively” know how to achieve your goal. Are they wrong? No, definitely not. Is it good advice though? Depends; at least not for me - and if you’ve read this far, then not for you either.

What are my other options?

Planning. And being aware of all the tools at your disposal. I documented the process of this drawing as an example. This process has limited applicability to paintings.

You will need:

an idea

drawing utensils

paper (some scraps to start with)

patience

Step 1: Rough Sketching

Take scrap paper. Unless your documenting this (hi, mom) you’ll throw this away asap. Get down the rough shape. This may a while and will involve you questioning your sanity - barge through the doubt, don’t erase what you’ve made, use the best parts and try again.

Example:

I would like to draw a cat. I take a pencil and...

Lol, no. Cats are not pizza with ears.

Let’s try that again. Maybe a reference picture will help.

Much better. Start with some crude shapes but sketch out the entire body with shapes like they do in some drawing guides - only draw what you need. In this case about two and a half ovals are enough. Now make a better copy beside that initial sketch - I hate doing them on top of the first because that gets messy real quick. Draw some helping lines from the reference image. Don’t bother too much with proportions or posture, or going big; all these sketches are about 6 by 4 cm.

I want to draw a companion for this steampunk cat, about the same shape and posture with a head tilted one way and the torso another. She’ll need a proper headdress too - I went through three options visually and added some notes for other ideas I had in case neither of these worked out.

Step 2: Break it down

Break down the drawing into smaller bits and pieces and look up reference images if you need them.

I broke down my sketch into:

Head/Face

Torso/Clothes

Hat

Fan

The head

I want my cat to look slightly to the left and this is what I found online:

Not quite

Almost

Perfect

The torso

I found this image, which contained most of the parts I needed. I didn’t like the hat, head, fan, and all the mice scampering about ‘er so I just took the torso - the corset is really neat. Unfortunately, her posture is not quite what I need so that will be the biggest challenge for this body part.

The hat

I considered a few options such as this 1920s flapper’s headpiece and a couple of Victorian hats before settling on this one.

The fan

I own two so no reference image necessary.

You can keep a couple of tabs (or books, if you have some at hand) open in case you change your mind while drafting.

Step 3: Fine Sketching

This is the hardest part but if you’ve made it this far, you might as well go all the way, right? Understand how your brain operates and beat it at its own mind-game: create a sunk-cost-fallacy and drive yourself forward.

There three ways to get your fine sketch onto paper:

Cool, if you can pull it off go for it, usually takes the longest if you lack the practice (like I do)

Generally a good approach, especially when scaling up

Use a ruler to measure and plot key points of your outline

Print it and hold it against a window.

If it’s dark outside unhinge that glass cabinet door, duct tape it between two tables and put a lamp beneath.

Pull it up on your screen and adjust your zoom. Be careful with the pressure of your pen!

Use sticky tape to prevent it from slipping

(Below) Using a reference grid (the dots) on a canvas for another project.

(Below) Tracing the head. Slight rotation of the page to achieve the desired orientation of the head.

I also traced the torso and the head first. Then I added some rough shapes for the arms and the fan - this was also when I realized I can use the fan to hide parts of the face I don’t want to draw. Everything ended up a little twisted and short so I dashed lines where I want these limbs to go. The fabric of the corset also needs to be pulled up on the right and pushed down on the left, hence the arrow there. The neck is way too long too. Add some more notes of things you want to change - like adding a fuck-ton of flowers to the hat.

To judge whether the proportions make sense take a look at yourself in the mirror or ask random people in the hallway to pose for you - afterwards exchange a friendly, confused smile and move on.

(Below) First fine draft after about 5 hours of intermittent work - just take breaks when you’re bored, but leave it prominently lying in your way so you don’t forget about it. I reconstructed the arms’ outlines and added some bold comments.

Once you have everything you need, clean up your first draft as much as possible by erasing help lines and drawing strong borders. Next, open something bright on your screen (or whatever your tracing equipment happens to be), tape a blank paper to your first sketch and take down all the details you want to keep. You can move the paper around to shorten or elongate distances.

Add borders if you want to frame the drawing later.

Now change all the things you don’t like. I changed the cat lady’s hat to be less round because I didn’t want her to wear a wide-brimmed bowler and added a fuck-ton of flowers and - for good measure - a feather. If you can’t draw the feather flicking back up like me, hide it behind the brim of the hat.

Think about any fur you want interacting with the fabric (hat or collar). I added one curl to flow down the left side of her collar - didn’t really work out but A for effort.

Add any major decorative elements like the fish on her corset or the patterns on her fan.

Add major textures like the lines on the brim of her straw hat. The dotted texture on her sleeve was way too fine and didn’t carry over to the next tracing. The same goes for the shading from the last draft, which didn’t carry over well and I ended up bundling all the fur together in larger bundles.

Save the puffy shoulders for last (because I had no idea what to do there and eventually opted for “brains”).

(Below) About 90 minutes on the face to compartmentalize all strands of fur into proper bundles. Note six key bushels that define her expression: on both side of her nose, her “eyebrows” and the trailing of her eyes. Look up cartoon cats for help. 2 hours on her torso and another hour on her shoulders.

Clean it up again and judge your work. If you are still unhappy with the positioning, do another tracing. Don’t forget to embolden all important features

Step 4: Inking the outline!

You’re patience is paying off! Next up is inking! Inking is fun!

Oh shit-

Don’t ink your final draft!

Step 4a: Screw up

I never get my inking right on the first try and it’s hard to hide mistakes you made with ink. I ran my draft through the photocopier once (because I didn’t want to trace it) so my mistake here wasn’t that big a deal - I lost five minutes and this paper went into the my scrap tray. Always start inking the most difficult part so you don’t regret screwing up after being almost done.

At this point I realized I couldn’t erase the pencil lines anymore and went back to tracing paper on paper on screen. Be aware of the ink you use and how thick your paper is or you might end up leaving marks on the draft below.

(Below) The pattern on her brow is off in two places.

Step 4b: Finish inking the outline

As before focus on borders and major textures; about now you’ll notice which parts of your draft are to fine to trace well and which ones need some extra weight. Drop any lines you don’t like.

By now you probably have a couple of pages with sketches and bad inkings lying around - make sure you label them or find some other method to remove them from your line of work (like throwing them in the bin).

(Below) About 45 minutes, 5 of which were spent on the feather, 5 on the flowers, 10 on the fan, 10 on the face, and 15 on the torso including arms.

At this point you could scan and stick it into a colouring book.

Step 5: Textures!

This is the best part. Texturing a drawing is so satisfying it makes up for all the hardship up to this point.

Make a couple of copies this time to practice your texturing. Afterwards, feel free to continue the page you traced or run it through the photocopier once again.

(Below) Two versions with different types of shading.

It’s very easy to get carried away when shading; always go for a little less than you think you need. You can always add more later, but you can’t take it away.

Fur

Use lines that flow parallel to the outlines you’ve already drawn. Make the strands flow apart at the beginning and back together at the end. Try to keep the numbers of strands that begin and end constant. This will result in a larger spacing and thus a lighter centre of your bushel.

I like shading an entire area, in this case the entire head uniformly but very lightly, then I start thinking about accents and where light could come from. Wherever fur bundles together (usually at the end of a bushel) I add some more of the same texture to make it darker. You can lift some of the shading from your reference pictures and just copy it. But don’t limit yourself to what your references provide.

To be honest, I only roughly take notice of where I place my imaginary source of light and just emphasize parts of a bushel that were darker to begin with. Usually turns out okay.

Fabric

Generally, keep your texturing parallel, perpendicular or at a fixed angle to the next leading edge. The lines don’t have to be - and most of the time shouldn’t be - straight. Allow them to trace out wrinkles in your fabric or reinforce the fabric’s rigidity by copying the leading edge at short intervals.

The same formula of repeat the leading edge applies to other parts of the clothing - just vary the line separation and how strictly you follow the leading edges.

In other places lines placed at constant angles make a good texture.

Know your tools: my pens stop drawing at an angle of about 30-45° and drawing lines at this angle will make them lighter and discontinuous. This is a good approach to lightly shading a large area like most of the corset.

Cross-hatching gives the sleeve a wrinkle and two light-spots. Two layers at roughly 70-90° gives a good hatch, only add a third layer if you need it really dark - careful: this will make any contours established with two layers disappear.

Shadows

Some places just ought to be darker though, like the spot I marked behind the ear or below the chin. This gives your drawing some depth. Just reiterate the same local texture over and over again until it’s dark enough.

Without my annoying comments, the final result will look like this:

Is it perfect? Fuck no. Is it pretty good? Aye, meets my standards.

By the way, this is what we started with:

Tips for shaky hands

Sugar, caffeine, medical condition? Hands come in all degrees of shaky but don’t let that discourage you. Here’s how I approach the most important elements in my art.

Long lines

Long lines are hard to draw, if you don’t have practice sliding your hand across the page. I can do it sometimes but not reliably. Instead I place my wrist firmly on the page and draw the part of the line that is within my mobile range. The more of my wrist rests on the page, the less I shake. Then I lift my pen and move on to the next bit - sounds trivial?

Wrong.

Whenever you start or end a line you go from rest to drawing speed or vice versa. During these moments the constant flow of ink is spread over a shorter distance, resulting in a thicker line. Appending a new segment causes a brief overlap and results in a blotch, especially when you need longer than an instant to correctly put down your pen.

Coming in at an angle prevents the ink from flowing prematurely and gives you more control of your line.

Curved lines

Place your wrist on the inside of the curve (segment) - drawing towards yourself is easier than away. Rotate the page to make it happen or rotate yourself if the page is stationary (like a large canvas). Additionally, I like to keep my fingers stiff and only rotate around my wrist.

Textures

For very fine textures I keep the tip of my pen above the page and start repeating the pattern. About two thirds of the strokes will go into thin air but the shaking will make one third hit the page - a statistical approach to texturing.

Conclusion

My longest post so far - I starting making this almost 8 hours ago. A blank page is a scary thing, so many possibilities, so many ways to screw up. The most important advice to take from this post is plan, save, trace, repeat. You don’t have to be ashamed for tracing art; just don’t parade an exact copy as your own work and always keep your references at hand.

Why does this feel like academic writing 101...

I invite anyone to contribute their own quick and dirty drawing tips for amateurs to this post. DM me, if you have any questions or would like to use this a last-minute-Christmas gift - I’ll send you a free high-res. I don’t judge, not this year nor any other.

Best, Ocelittle

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