Part 1 Timed Writings

It was the mid-1980s. We were three writers teaching writing. Joy, KLujan, and I shared an office, our ideas, our frustrations, and our love of writing. The more we shared the more we wanted to stop talking about writing and WRITE! So, during breaks in our schedules and on days off, we did just that. We brought along Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg to get us started and keep us going. When we began, we had no idea of the wild ride we would ultimately go on. 

Goldberg brought us back to basics: a good-feeling pen or pencil, a notebook to love, and favorite times, places, topics, and “nudges.” She reminded us again and again of “the basic unit of writing practice”—the timed writing—in which a writer sets a time—any amount of time—and writes, keeping the pen moving and ignoring logic, spelling, and grammar, etc., until time’s up.

This is writing practice. Composing and shaping a product come later. Editing and proofreading come much later.

We did our timed writings simultaneously, and at the end of each one, we read our pieces aloud. Sometimes they were dull, stuffy, and uninspired while at other times, they were hilarious and edgy.  

We were practicing. 

Part II Writing Off Of a Line

As we worked our way through Goldberg’s Topics for Writing (pp.19-25), Joy suggested we try number 14, writing off of a line, and she gave us John Keats’ line, “Thou still unravished bride of quietness.” Each of us copied that line into our notebooks then continued writing from there until our set time was up.

Keats’ line led us into uncharted waters, generating new ideas, images, and symbols. When we read our pieces aloud, we noticed subtle differences in our writing styles and that our acts of writing had become more fluent and unselfconscious.

 We were exhilarated. We did lots more “writing off of a line.”

Part III Passing Our Notebooks

 A few sessions later, KLujan enthusiastically suggested another variation: passing our notebooks. So, at the end of a timed writing off of a line, we exchanged notebooks, read only the final line of our neighbor’s piece, and wrote off of that line in the neighbor’s notebook. To complete the exercise, we passed the notebooks again and did the same. Then we returned the notebooks to their owners and each of us read the entire pieces in our own notebooks.

What grand fun we had! Sometimes the entries would be a comically disjointed mishmash of thoughts and images, but many times, in that mysterious way that creativity works, we’d produce a surprisingly cohesive—and dare I say—brilliant gem.

If you enjoy writing, try this. Any number can play!