Aquatic Prozac

Perhaps I need to seek professional help.  Everything I draw is sad.  I'm not a sad person; in fact, I tend to run happy.  Happy is my go-to.  Happy is my default.

... or am I deluding myself?  Is my "inner Heather" crying out for an intervention?

This clown fish tells no jokes.

Obviously I was reaching for the stars with my previous attempts at drawing (though one lucky boy or girl will be getting the ox -- framed and matted -- as a birthday/Christmas present this year).   I thought it best to demote myself to more, uhh, entry-level art.  My library has a fantastic children's section.  I learned how to draw that fish up there from Ralph Masiello's ocean drawing book (ages 6 and up!).  It also had a few pages on sharks:

 

Step-by-step.  Simple lines.  No problem.

Captain, we have a problem.

I try not to censor myself too much on here, but I have to admit, I was (ok, am) almost too embarrassed to post this picture.  I'd like to say I messed up it up on purpose to be funny, but ... no.  With the exception of he extreme buck shark teeth (he looks like an asshole, he should have giant asshole teeth), it was legit.

I was talking on the phone, so distraction clearly played a part in the shark demise.  I'm sure that's it.  Next time, no phone, no "West Wing", no annoying cat.  Just me, my pad, my pencil and an empty mind (that last one shouldn't be too hard to accomplish).  I'm telling you, shit's about to get real at Chez Heather.

I did stay in the lines yesterday.  That has to count for something.

You should do more of this, less of all that crap up there ↑.
Stick to what you know, lady.