It’s probably no surprise that our bathroom isn’t done yet despite my confidence of last week; the plumber showed up 5 days after our scheduled day, but at least we have hot water again, plus the shower and sink plumbing has been upgraded a prepped for the installation of the shower and fixtures. We are now ready to install the shower stall and door, before moving onto drywall repair and baseboards.

A couple other items I have moved on this week include getting the household go-bags stocked and organized (up until now, I have only had one kindof pathetic bag for the two of us), and finding a roofer who will come replace our roof later this fall. Writing about my household procrastination problem last week seems to have helped me confront my to-do list and make some headway on it. Hooray!

Earlier this week I came across the concept of extroverted processing over on Austin Kleon’s Substack (paid post, sorry). He includes it in a list of old notes to himself and says “I never really felt like I really had that much going on in my head — I need to make things with my hands and talk about things with my tongue in order to process them properly. Most recently I’ve discovered that art isn’t just a way of uncovering what I think, it’s probably more valuable to me as a way of discovering how I feel.” This really jumped out at me because that is 100% what most of my talking and writing is about – discovering what I actually think and feel about things. I just don’t come to a lot of conclusions inside my head without some kind of output to get there.

I first understood this tendency way back in a college Canadian literature class when I was twenty-one and I started speaking about a text we were reading. I remember feeling a bit amazed with the interesting connections I was making in the discussion, that I hadn’t previously thought of. Back then, there was no Internet, and so it took me years before I came across the term “verbal processor” which is essentially a person who speaks in order to clarify thoughts. As I have spent more and more time writing over the years, I have come to understand it in the same way, that writing is a way for me to uncover what I actually think. I do not think things and then write them down, the writing itself helps me think about my ideas. And for whatever reason, sharing that externally is an important part of the process – hence I’ve had a blog for 20 years, and a newsletter is part of my current output. This is what moves me, from simply being a “verbal” processor to an “extroverted” one. I don’t simply need to talk it through, but no matter the medium I work with, externalizing it is key.

I think this orientation is often misunderstood as classic extroversion more generally, something I’ve often been confused about in my life. For while I tend process externally, I don’t necessarily get more energy from being with people, then being alone (which is what separates the ‘verts from one another). When I was younger, I think my extroversion, which manifested in my teens as a desperate need for connection with others, was a way to heal from a somewhat alienating childhood. But as I’ve aged into a life I truly choose, I have discovered I am much more an ambivert, with a tendency towards introversion (I recently took an online personality test over at 16personalities which strongly suggests I am in the camp of introverts).

Crazy, I know! This does not square with what people think of me since I throw a lot of parties and dinners, and host musicians and all that. But the truth is, I’m happy alone working in my studio or the house, most of the time. It’s where I feel most at peace, and most productive. I have increasingly recognized (after reading Enchanted by Katherine May who discovered this tendency in herself to be linked to autism) that to be comfortable in my social world, I rely on alcohol to help me get in the groove with others – which means that I’m almost always drinking when I spend time in the outside world. At home, alone or with Brian, I almost never drink because I don’t feel the need to loosen up in order to allow others in (which is a whole other set of issues I’m working on in therapy). I do not love this about myself, but I’m starting to understand where it come from, and it suggests something about where I am most at ease. On the other hand, without social engagement, I would have nowhere to process – which is pretty essential to my intellectual and creative capacity. It’s no wonder that I spend a lot of time orchestrating social engagements that bring interesting/smart/creative people into my life – my own output depends on it!

The other day, Brian and I returned home from a social engagement with some old activist friends and I found myself making a list of all the people I could talk to about my book project. People who would get where I was coming from, and be able to argue with me where I might be off in my thinking. I’ve never consciously made a list like that as an approach to my writing before, but it seems to me very important that I create a circle in my life with whom I can have an ongoing conversation as one way of staying on track with my book. My friend Jill is my creative coach, so I’ve got her in my corner already, but I think I might branch out this time and find more focused conversations to fuel my work, particularly as I start to really unpack my ideas in writing.

Self-discovery for the win? I will let you know how it goes.

A big part of my personal story is that as a child I learned early on I did not have the skill for drawing or other visual arts. This was evidenced by a note on my Kindergarten report card which read, “Megan lacks hand-eye coordination when using scissors,” and was proof enough in my family that my skills were to be found in other areas, such as writing and playing the violin. At the time, my parents believed that one best work with our natural proclivities rather than spending too much time on skills where we showed poor aptitude.

This never felt like a big deal to me. As a child with a mercurial temperament I was frustrated by things that did not come easily. Drawing and painting fell into that category – I had a hard time even colouring inside the lines on pre-printed sheets – so it didn’t seem much of a punishment to be deterred from spending time making art. My brother had more natural talent for drawing and so he got to be the artist; I got to be the writer/musician, and thus our family roles were set.

For all of my life until I turned thirty, I did not make art unless I was forced to in school projects (which always turned out miserably). I did pick up a few technical skills in my twenties, teaching myself how to cross-stitch using patterns from books, and learning how to use a sewing machine, but it wasn’t until I started quilting and sewing in my early thirties that I started to explore a bit more. At that point, I still believed that I would never effectively learn how colour or composition work because of my innate artistic deficiency. Even though I knew from years of making music, that the key to learning most things is practice and repetition, I saw art-making as separate and somehow related to genetics or inborn skill, and thus inaccessible to me.

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One of the substacks I love is Draw Your World by the very talented Samantha Dion Baker. As someone with no skill for drawing, I am mesmerized by those who can turn a few lines into something meaningful.

In February, right around my 50th birthday, I won a draw via Samantha’s Substack (exciting!) and she mailed me a set of Derwent watercolors and a set of water brushes. At the time, I figured I would use them for application on textile, as I do occasionally use watercolors on fabric when making a textile piece. I was very grateful for the gift.

Not long after that I started taking a local, in-person workshop called “The Healing Power of Art” which has encouraged me to take up a kind of meditative drawing on a semi-regular basis over the last few weeks. Nothing figurative, with no intention to make “art”; I journal a bit, and then I draw a bit, sometimes incorporating a phrase that comes out of my writing.

It might look something a bit like this:

As you can see, there is no sophistication here. I draw like a six-year-old (likely because I stopped drawing entirely around that time of my life). But my total lack of skill allows me to turn off the inner critic in a way I don’t with pretty much anything else. The act of drawing gives me a period of focus, and no expectations leaves me pleased with almost any result.

All this recent drawing reminded me of the watercolour set in my drawer, and that in turn reminded me of Samantha’s book Draw Your Day which was sitting in my studio “to-read” pile. In it, Samantha encourages a practice of visual journaling, using drawing, watercolour, and collage techniques to make a record of the day. Her Instagram, books, and courses are full of positive affirmation, technical tips, and inspiring artwork – and somehow I’ve found myself yearning to learn how to draw figuratively, at least a little bit, so I can add some colour and texture to my written journaling practice.

Over the years, I have collected up good pencil crayons, pencils, waterproof pens, and ephemera for collaging because the impulse to draw and decorate has been there for a long time. I didn’t have to invest in any supplies to get started when I decided to get over myself and just start practicing!

It’s been ten days of daily drawing practice and so far what I’ve learned is that I really *don’t* know how to draw. That is, I struggle with looking at an object and knowing how to represent it in lines and colour. My pencil strokes are not confident, I can’t freehand a circle to save my life, and perspective is an elusive concept. However! I find the practice completely absorbing (an hour or more can go by and I barely notice), my drawing has improved a little in just a few days (easy when there is so much room for improvement), and I’m learning to see my world differently as I move through my days looking for basic stuff I can draw. I’ve realized it’s much easier if I draw from an object or photo, rather than from my imagination – so I snap a lot more pics with my phone during the day to keep as a reference. And I’ve discovered so many “how to draw” YouTubes, and Skillshare courses on lettering, drawing and watercolouring, that learning some basics is practically free.

Most importantly for learning is that I have become a bit obsessed in the last couple of weeks – which is what it takes for me to put other things aside and pull out some paper. I don’t have big expectations except that I learn to express myself visually for my own enjoyment – and I’m finally at a place where I can drop the baggage that has weighed me down in this area for so long.

Below is my first attempt at a “Draw Your Day” page which I have followed up with other kinds of sketch and journaling exercises. This is such a portable practice that I plan to take it on the road over my summer holidays to see what comes of it.