Comfy Socks, Set of Prompts, Trying My Hand at Inktober

This October, I finally took the leap and committed to Inktober—the drawing challenge where you create one piece every day based on a prompt, using only ink. You can use pencils to sketch before adding ink. I’d known about it for years, but this is my very first time actively participating, and I’m finding the experience unexpectedly peaceful. It’s often not perfect, but it forces me to commit.

My process is simple, cozy, and often a little chaotic. I usually settle in wearing a pair of comfortable socks, put some music or the TV on in the background (yes, I know, I’m a bit weird!), and get the paper in front of me. I stare at the daily prompt and stare at the paper while I imagine what the final drawing might look like. I have plenty of ideas, but the real mental block is getting started. The focus is on executing something I can finish. It usually involves making a rough pencil sketch, deciding if it’s worth doing, and then either starting over or working with the initial idea.

The Tools and The Messy Page

I’m working with a simple ballpoint pen alongside a proper drawing pen (which is far more useful, honestly). It’s been a great creative outlet alongside my writing. A short story I started even helped inspire one of the drawings—that’s a project I definitely need to finish and revisit, as parts of it often come to life when I go for a walk. Sometimes the drawings happen in the morning with a quick pencil trace, and sometimes it’s just pen-to-paper in the evening.

This year, I’m embracing the mess. All my drawings share the same “ish” page—a collection of pieces with some lovely wasted space in between. I’m even tempted to draw some simple lines to connect the dots and unify the page, turning the collection into a larger, sprawling piece. I do have a confession: sometimes I haven’t been doing it daily, but have instead done a couple at once over the same day. The good news is, at the time of writing, I’m all caught up.

Finding Peace in the Imperfect

It’s in these moments, engaged in a creative flow, that I find myself entirely at peace—I enter the zone and my emotions are calm. As the weather gets colder and darker, this daily ritual has been a genuinely calming, relaxing exercise, providing a much-needed change of pace. Since I can be rather serious, it’s a nice little getaway.

I look over my shoulder and my cat appears, completely asleep, though she normally likes to check out what I’m doing. It reminds me that this process is deeply personal. Normally, I don’t like to share my art but I have done that more so in last couple of years. I often judge myself against others, not against what I’ve done before. I can see some improvements as I practice my craft.

This challenge has also forced me to confront drawing things I never would consider. I’m thankful for a gifted practice book that relit this interest, reminding me that while practice helps, sometimes not perfect is what makes art good. It’s a powerful thought, especially when I look at my finished work, like the cute bee based on the ‘sting’ prompt. I have plenty of drawing supplies, but I’m content with starting small right now. On a brighter note, looking at my practice book, I see potential drawings of nature, dragons, and more—my pens are moving at the thought of what I could be creating next. Passion is slowly returning.

Writing can be messy, just like drawing; I know charcoal, which I’ve used once or twice, is certainly messy! I still have a long list of blog drafts and drawing ideas stuck in my mind, but that’s okay. So much of it hits the cutting room floor. It was actually the creative spark from my fursona drawing that led me to Inktober this year. That started as an idea, I used AI to help generate an image which I then started sketching. It just proves that creative momentum, no matter where it comes from, is contagious. I’m tempted to share the art I’ve done on my social media, but the only problem is them being all together on the same page. This blog was originally meant to be an outlet for frustration and a way to understand the world. Perhaps, through the quiet commitment of a daily challenge, confidence is returning in my drawing skills.