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Making daily contact with their writing self is a way of touching home.
There is a memory of a ____________
Write about a bed
The last we heard
You got it second hand
Something stolen
While you were driving
These were my mistakes
In my grandmother's house
I'm thinking of …
Write about a summer fling
You are lost
What you see in the distance
You thought nobody noticed
This is what you need for the journey
Write about receiving messages
Write one true thing
This is a prayer
Thoughts from a Queen-sized bed
I want to return to that place
You received a letter
It's what was left behind
Things to do on a Tuesday
Write what you try to forget
Write about a time you changed your mind
Once, with another woman …
Write about sleeping
Write about the best of intentions
Write about a time you wanted to leave but couldn't
You're waiting...
Write about taking risks
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"But does all this practice ever really produce anything?" you may ask. My students ask this question all the time. At least those who are new to the practice of practice. "I mean what's the point?" they say. "I fill my notebook and then start another and what?"
After nearly a decade of regular writing practice, done both alone and with groups, here's what I know:
Notebooks will be filled. Page after page of your original writing. Not all of it good. But not all of it bad, either. And some of it will be absolutely gorgeous. For some writers, this is enough. Making daily contact with their writing self is a way of touching home. It is an affirmation of their deepest longing. For them, the process is what matters most.
Others discover what they want to write about. Through practice sessions where no directive is given except Write, they find their voice and the genre in which it hits the truest notes.
Many fiction writers use practice sessions to explore scenes and characters. There's something abut the freedom and no-holds-barred atmosphere of a practice session that encourages the authentic expression some writers crave. Like dancing without a partner. It's not about following or leading, you just give yourself over to the music.
Then there is the freedom to take risks. You can try anything. What the heck, this is just practice. You can always tear out the page. You can write the things that scare you most even as you cross out every other word and your handwriting gets more pinched and crabbed with every line and you can hardly breathe. Still, you keep going because it is, after all, only practice.
And, like anything else you do repeatedly whether you're papering a wall, shooting baskets or throwing pots, with practice, you really do get better.
About Writing Practice >>>
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