The Glorious Scribble

The greatest tool in my animation career

Ah, the scribble.

It was the thing that finally saved me from those stiff, perfect lines that boxed in my work. Early in my career, I was completely locked onto the model sheet—just like every other animator around me. We were turning out beautiful drawings, all on-model, and all completely handcuffing our animation.

Photo by Kier in Sight Archives on Unsplash

Now, I know that might sound like I’m contradicting myself. Didn’t I say earlier that great drawings make great animation? That’s true—if you know how to move.

Movement comes first. But that’s not how most beginning animators work. We start by obsessing over getting the drawing right—getting it “on-model.” We pour all our energy landing one clean pose, then another, hoping the inbetweens will somehow carry the performance.

They don’t.

This approach killed my early animation. It produced animation that was flat, rigid, lifeless. I’d spent hours refining a pose, then reworking it again and again. The more I fussed over the drawings, the stiffer they got.

What I didn’t understand back then is this: the most important quality of a rough animation drawing is how easy it is to throw away.

Throw it away? Yes.

We don’t easily throw away beautiful drawings. We’ve invested too much in it. It’s too precious now. But a scribble? A scribble is different. It didn’t cost much. It’s disposable. It’s just a whisper of an idea—fast, cheap, and easy to toss if it doesn’t work. And because it’s not trying to be perfect, it moves fast—almost at the speed of thought.

That’s what sets you free.

The scribble lets you chase performance—the life of the scene—without getting bogged down by drawing. It focuses you on the guts of the performance: silhouette, rhythm, emotion. You’ll never hang these sketches on your fridge, but that’s not the point.

Good animation isn’t about nailing one perfect drawing after another. It’s about how all the drawings move together—how they define movement, emotion and life.

And scribbles don’t fight you like pretty drawings do. They don’t resist change. You’re shaping movement from the start. I can’t tell you how much agony I could’ve saved myself if I’d figured this out earlier.

Once the scribble leads you to a great performance, then you can shift gears. That’s when you move into the carpentry phase—cleaning up, refining, bringing your work on-model with real confidence. Now you’re not guessing. You know what the scene needs because the performance is clear.

And yeah, this stage takes work. But it’s joyful work. You’re discovering drawings you never would’ve found by just chasing pretty lines.

Don’t lock yourself into beautiful drawings too early. They can turn into a wall you’ll never break through.

Let the scribble lead. The spirit comes first—the polish comes after.