Follow the Dotted Line.
Years of refrigerator-bound coloring book mediocrity combined with paint-by-number masterpiece-impersonators designed for the artistic and mathematically disinclined (the latter of which I was not), did little to prepare me for the high school and college-level drawing classes that bruised my ego as much as the patiently-posing fruit-in-the-bowl. As I marveled at the effortless glide of my classmates' graphite drawing tools that magically produced praiseworthy-replicas of the snack that sat before us, I begrudgingly smudged poorly-conceived shadows on my otherwise lifeless plums and longed for the overly-generous praise of my parents. Enjoy!
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