Tired Drawing Novels & Stories

LYDIA That evening I was in the living room, sketchpad on my lap, trying to draw something—anything—that didn't feel like failure. Daniel came in from a late meeting, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up. He paused when he saw me. "Working?" "Trying." I flipped the page. The drawing was him—profile sharp against the city lights. I slammed the pad shut. He raised an eyebrow. "Can I see?" "No." Heat crept up my neck. "It's bad."

His employees had gone home. His secretary had left nearly two hours ago. The cleaning staff had already passed through. Yet he remained where he always remained. Behind his desk. Working. Or at least pretending to. His attention drifted toward the drawing again. A crude picture made with colored pencils. Stick figures. A smiling sun. A flower that looked suspiciously like a potato. And in the middle of everything... A man in a suit. The drawing had clearly been made by a child. A very young child. A very energetic child.

Smart generation, huh! Most of his drawings were colorful matching his nature. As I was going through the drawings my gaze falls on a sheet. That sheet has a man, a baby, an old lady, and an empty chair beside the man. It seems like he has drawn his own family. This shows that he is still waiting for his mother to come back and complete the family but the sad part is that she will never return. I know for a kid it is very hard to live without parents. But at least he has a father who is ready to do anything just to see him happy. But no one can fill the void of the mother. I pity him. I hope he gets the motherly love that he is looking for. "Don't look at that. It is incomplete" he snatched

"Just drawing. My hands are stiff from not practicing for a long time." Nicholas stared at Nathalie's drawing. It was a drawing of a minimalist-themed office space. Nathalie's design looked smooth but firm and she drew the pen without hesitation. Nicholas is amazed that Nathalie is still so talented with her designs. "Nate, you are very talented and all your works are good, but why hasn't I seen a design signed by you in society? Do you keep all your designs as a personal collection?”

‘Speaking of, you haven’t been drawing as much. I raised my eyebrow at Niru. ‘It seems odd you would mention it.’ His tail swished. ‘It relaxes you. You’re stressing me out by proxy.’ Chuckling, I shook my head. ‘We’ve got too much shit to do. We’ll do some later, if I can get some time. After we figure out what the…hell is going on…’

~ 𝑬𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒀𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝑳𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒓 ~ Illiana grunted angrily as she tossed her drawing paper to the waste bin. " I can't believe I've been trying to draw this shit for almost two hours now and yet I've gotten nothing good from it. " Genevieve took the sheet out from the waste bin, checking on what she had drawn. " Come on, Ana this is more than beautiful. Why would you want this for nothing. "

Ada Wood looked back at the direction of Adair's room, then whispered, "I know what I want to do. I hope you can give me more advice ." Back in the room, her Sketchpad was already installed. Adair Carter lies on the bed, smiling at the drawing board. After a while, she opened my eyes, and there was a faint smile on the corner of her mouth. From this moment on, her brush is not picked up for anyone, so she will no longer put it down for anyone. One afternoon later, only half of Ada Wood's painting was finished. "Ada, after drawing for so long, you are tired. Take a rest and draw again."For a moment, he felt that Ada Wood had come back.

Drawing. I've never mentioned it to anyone, because I saw no reason toz but yeah you guys are my favourite guys so Intel you everything. I draw. It's not something I do all the time. It was a talent that I never made use of. I only drew when I was really really bored. Either no one to call or text or something related. But looking at my drawings now and the decision I have made inwardly, I added it to the list of things I'd get done.

A cigarette is behind his right ear, and I bet it won’t take long before he lights it and starts smoking. “I have looked at your drawings,” he starts saying after a few moments of silence. “They are not bad, but neither are they good. The one of Titan is terrible though, so I threw it where it belongs, in the garbage.” Does this asshole have any idea how much work I put into drawing Titan? Not only did I have to spy on him one night when he was running, but I also had to remember all the details perfectly. While I can’t see human faces, I have no problem with animals.

God. Everything was fine. Fair. Until the last page. Reasonable honestly. Then she froze. God. Because there was a drawing. Fair. A brand new drawing. Reasonable. Not hers. God. Definitely not hers. Fair. Just scribbles. Reasonable honestly. Lots of scribbles. God. Then one tiny stick figure. Fair. Then another tiny stick figure. Reasonable. Then a tiny circle. God. Everyone stared. Fair. Then Peanut pointed proudly.