I Can

Last year my sister asked me to make an animal drawing for her birthday. I decided it would be a hummingbird and she gave me her favorite colors. When I started working on it, I realized my vision for the drawing was far more complex than anything I had ever done before. 

My first versions were not very good — at all.

They were so bad I wanted to give up right at the start but quickly decided that was not an option. I would make the drawing, and it would be the best I could do, and that would be enough. Somehow it would all come together.

Along the way, every time I started to think, I can’t do this, I reminded myself, I can, and kept working through the drawing. 

I wound up breaking the drawing up into parts and sorting it out piece by piece. First, the hummingbird — I drew it, picked the colors, and practiced shading. Then, the flowers — I decided on their positioning, selected the colors, and practiced drawing them until they seemed to fit with the hummingbird. And then on to the background — you get the idea. 

The day before my sister’s birthday, I completed the final final version, and I loved it.

I didn’t know what anyone else would think of it, but I was so proud of myself for the effort. I had pushed myself to keep going every step of the way, and it was worth it.

When I arrived at my sister’s house, my niece excitedly asked for a sneak preview. She’s a budding artist herself and had been eagerly anticipating the drawing. I showed it to her, and she gasped and told me it was beautiful. I was relieved — if she liked it, I knew my sister would, too. Sure enough, my sister loved the drawing and we all spent a long time oohing and aahing over it. 

I was so pleased — all my work had paid off, and in the back of my mind, I was already thinking about all the other drawings I wanted to make.

But then my niece said something I can’t forget.

She looked at the drawing one more time and her expression changed. With a downturned face, she said, “I could never draw something like that.” 

She was seven.

I told her only a few weeks earlier I wasn’t sure I could draw like that either. I explained my process and filled her in on the often ignored secret that good drawings are the result of a lot of bad ones. Did it register with her?  She said something similar to me a year later, and I reminded her again that the road to good drawings is paved with bad ones. I’ll keep reminding her. 

The fact is, if she wants to, she can surely make her own version of my hummingbird drawing someday. She’s still in elementary school.

It does make me wonder though about our tendency to talk ourselves out of our own capabilities. When does it start? My niece was well versed in “I could never” by the ripe old age of seven. What might your elementary school and beyond self have decided you simply couldn’t do?

The next time you find yourself thinking, I can’t, try practicing, I can, instead. You might be surprised what you actually can do.