Monthly Archives: July 2023

Think of something you regularly resist doing. Something you make excuses to avoid, that you always put off until the last minute, or that you dread until you actually get started.

What comes to mind? Paying your taxes? Leg day? Going to the dentist? Flipping your mattress? Writing thank you letters? Leg day? Is it leg day?

For me, it’s timed writing exercises. (And leg day.)

There’s something unsettling about being given a tightly constrained topic, coming up with an idea, writing under the clock, trying to write well, and—gasp—sharing whatever writing you’re able to churn out. In our writing group, I’m usually the one who greets a new writing exercise with a groan and lost-my-pen-sorry-can’t-write excuses.

I don’t really know where this resistance comes from. My inner asshole will say it’s because I’m lazy. My inner therapist will say it’s because I have a fear of failure and a fear of success. Let’s say they’re both right. Writing, and writing well, is hard work, and sometimes it’s easier to do just about anything else.

I got to face this resistance head-on in a Restless Writers meeting back in April. We had just wrapped up our pre-meeting ritual of Sun Chips, sparkling wine, and catching up. Beckie’s idea for a “pen-to-paper power 10” activity was the first thing on the agenda, and she asked if we were all still up for it.

I felt the resistance burble up immediately. I knew that this activity was meant to spark some creativity, activate our writing muscles, and give us some quick writing wins. Still, I piped up with, “I’d be okay with skipping it.” I assumed my mind would be blank, I wouldn’t know what to write about, and whatever I did end up writing would probably be garbage. Yikes. But the others were gung-ho, so Beckie pulled out a stack of prompts.

The prompts were simple but intriguing:

• Write about an item you have that isn’t expensive but means a lot to you.
• What colour do you feel like today and why?
• Write a recipe for something abstract like a feeling or an event.
• Write a magic spell for something you need right now in your life.

My interest was piqued. I ignored the remnants of resistance hovering at the edges of my brain and told myself that at least this would be over in 10 minutes.

We all picked out the prompt that worked for us. I chose the magic spell one. Beckie set the timer, and we settled into silence.

The first minute was bleak. I told myself I could literally write whatever I wanted, even if it was a magic spell to win the lottery. Because if there’s anything I need in my life right now, it’s cash-ola. This got me thinking that winning the lottery isn’t the only way to get money—I could get a windfall some other way, or snag a promotion, or one of my business ideas could hit pay-dirt.

The second minute was when the prompt clicked. I came up with a pagan-inspired spell to put me on the path to good fortune. (I’m still on that path, obviously, otherwise I’d be on a beach in Cabo right now.) I wrote as quickly as possible in my signature chicken-scratch, and even had some time to edit before time was up.

When the timer dinged, I had written something I thought was funny and clever, with a tongue-in-cheek style and a smidge of satire.

In fact, everyone had written something. We read our writings out loud, which led to new conversations and tangents and ideas. I had a frisson of excitement in my tummy, like I just accomplished something a little bit brave. I get that same feeling when I single-handedly exterminate a centipede or put an Ikea bookshelf together.

It felt…good.

On YouTube, I follow Kara and Nate, an adorable couple from Nashville who have a travel channel. (You should follow them; they’re a blast.) Kara has this saying that goes something like, “Future Kara loves past pain.” That saying helped her power through extreme challenges and achieve impressive things. She might not have wanted to do the thing—like go skydiving or hike up the equivalent of Mt. Everest—but her future self was really glad she did.

Participating in a short timed writing exercise may not be apples-to-apples with skydiving, but it was still the thing I didn’t want to do. Getting myself to get started and do the work was the hard part. While I was writing, the words came easily. When I was done, I felt energized and exhilarated—and ready to do more.

We tried out the same writing activity at our next meeting. And guess who was a convert? Yours truly. I may now be our group’s writing-exercise evangelist. Those 10-minute sprints are fun, unpredictable, challenging, surprising, and real. They remind me that if I want to accomplish my writing goals, I have to put in the work.

If you’re resisting getting started on your writing project, give a timed writing exercise a try. Or book a writing session in your calendar, or have your SO/best friend/accountability partner harangue you into writing.

Lean into the discomfort. Future you will thank you.

Maria

PS: Have you tried a timed writing exercise before? How did it go? Do you have a favourite prompt to share? Leave it in the comments.