What if I asked you to draw me an S…not just any s, but the S. Right now, on whatever's in front of you. Bet you could do it, or at least picture it. Six lines first, three and three stacked on top of each other. Pointy at the top, symmetrical, shaded so it looks 3D. You know the one I'm talking about.

Megan, the boys, and I did it the other night. All four S's, lined up. You could barely tell whose was whose.

You probably just drew the same one too. And if not, I bet you will soon, next time you pick up a pen. Just for old time's sake.

It feels like this version of the S has been around for as long as anyone around my age can remember. Notebook margins, classroom desks, locker doors, graffiti. Nobody (that I know of) teaches it formally, and everybody knows it.

I think there are (at least) three things that explain why it survived:

1. Steps you can teach in thirty seconds
2. Fixed rules that hold the lines where they should go
3. A clear stopping place so you know when you’re done.

That’s the art class reasoning at least. Through the lens of pencil or pen on paper, it’s clear to see why this “unique” letter has lasted so, so, so long. Again, my boys know this “S” the same way their teenaged dad did too.

But then there’s everything else the S also is. And they all start with S.

Satisfying for obvious reasons.

Symmetrical even when the rest of your handwriting isn’t.

Stubborn because the adults who refuse to draw will produce one without realizing what they just did.

Story because the S is the lie people tell themselves about what they can and can’t do.

Scary when you ask them to start drawing anything that isn’t the S. Sucks, sometimes.

Smart when they finally see what the formula is.

Start because it’s easy to just draw it.

Ask someone to draw a nature scene with a fishing boat, and they might freeze. It’s not obvious where to begin. How big is the boat supposed to be? How deep is the lake be or where should the trees go? How will I know when I’m done?

Too many variables.

The S has almost none. That’s the whole story. And it looks cool.

Most adults had crayons and markers in their hands when they were kids. Somewhere along the way the pens got replaced with keyboards and screens. That’s not how minds work. It’s just what we did to ourselves.

Most of what adults are too Scared to try has the same problem the nature scene does. No steps, no fixed rules, no clear place to stop.

Everything that feels too big is some version of that nature scene. The work is to find the S inside it. The small thing with the steps and the rules and the stopping point, that anyone can do because anyone really can.

All of art could be like the S if people let it. So could a lot of other things.

When people actually draw through a session at one of my events, they remember more of what was said. They stop just nodding and start engaging, because the pen makes them think with their hands.

I taught a small drawing class at the start of a workshop in Milwaukee earlier this year. The ones who came told me afterward it was soothing, and a few showed me what they’d been doodling through the rest of the sessions.

The drawing was the thing that pulled them in. That’s what art does when it gets given back to people.

The dream-come-true at an event is people walking up at the end and showing me what they drew. Good or bad doesn’t matter. The point is, they gave themselves permission to play.

You already drew the S. Now find your guts and draw the next thing. It will help. What’s it going to be?

Grateful you are here,

Wade