Here are over 130 ten-minute writing exercises for you to dip into and enjoy.
Approach these challenges with the minimal of mental preparation. Don't agonise over writing the "perfect" response; simply put pen to paper and start writing!
Try carrying a notebook and paper with you, for the next time you find yourself with 10 minutes to fill waiting for the bus/train/doctor/etc.
Monday 3 June 2013
Writing without "A"
"So silently the night creeps over me..." TASK Continue writing for 10 minutes without using the letter A.
So silently the night creeps over me, my legs, under the covers sending me secret missives. I try to decode their restlessness. Worry? Too much coffee? Not enough of some miniscule molecule in my blood? Or just mysterious forces prompting me to slip out, to get up. Finally there’s no choice, the stiller I try to be, the more energy burns up and down my shins and feet. I rise, glimpse beyond the blinds to see the moonlight between the clouds. I scowl. Full moons now mock me, they used to bring night-long sprints into unknown corners of my phyche, now they just remind me of how glued I’ve become to my fleece PJs, the sturdy curves of my sleeping lover, the comfort of the tiny room that once felt like prison. I predict my tiredness in the morning, the weight of my cheek on the pillow while my sweet girl, bright like the morning sun implores me to get up. But still, in my little glimpse of the endless night outside my window I feel fleeting rushes of excitement in knowing that it is me now conscious whilst so many sleep. It is intensely mine, this moment so I tilt my brow to the window open my eyes wide, stretch my restless legs.
So silently the night creeps over me... I did not feel it come. The coming is the beginning of not the end of one more cycle without her, but the birth of the next. The bed stood empty for 14 hours without her, but only now does her missing bite home, do the sheets cry their lonely tune. The bed is empty, my soul pines for her touch of fingers dressed with words. I know from experience, this is is the beginning of the long nights, punctured by subconscious visions of her, of nights of desire unfulfilled, of spirit unreflected in her eyes, of words unspoken. Only now does the night seem so long, so full of longing. Will I find succour in this wine, in this TV, in this, this, is there something else to try? when I rise, the bed will still be empty, this soul seeking, this cock seeking - her element fire. This mind seeking her commune, this body seeking hers. It will sublime once more into the slow drudge of time, the slow ticking of the clock till she is in my orbit once more, slow torture of unspoken missing, wondering if she is thinking of me like I think of her. The river of time, flowing frozen toffe like until we meet one more, till the night is ours once more.
Wow that was hard - 10 minutes to write - 7 more to remove all the a's I could find.
So silently the night creeps over me, my legs, under the covers sending me secret missives. I try to decode their restlessness. Worry? Too much coffee? Not enough of some miniscule molecule in my blood? Or just mysterious forces prompting me to slip out, to get up. Finally there’s no choice, the stiller I try to be, the more energy burns up and down my shins and feet. I rise, glimpse beyond the blinds to see the moonlight between the clouds. I scowl. Full moons now mock me, they used to bring night-long sprints into unknown corners of my phyche, now they just remind me of how glued I’ve become to my fleece PJs, the sturdy curves of my sleeping lover, the comfort of the tiny room that once felt like prison. I predict my tiredness in the morning, the weight of my cheek on the pillow while my sweet girl, bright like the morning sun implores me to get up. But still, in my little glimpse of the endless night outside my window I feel fleeting rushes of excitement in knowing that it is me now conscious whilst so many sleep. It is intensely mine, this moment so I tilt my brow to the window open my eyes wide, stretch my restless legs.
ReplyDeleteyeah pammy :) Golden bit: "It is intensely mine".
DeleteGonna try this tomorrow - I am expecting two sentences if all goes well, less maybe - no "A" - that is harsh...
ReplyDeleteSo silently the night creeps over me... I did not feel it come. The coming is the beginning of not the end of one more cycle without her, but the birth of the next. The bed stood empty for 14 hours without her, but only now does her missing bite home, do the sheets cry their lonely tune. The bed is empty, my soul pines for her touch of fingers dressed with words. I know from experience, this is is the beginning of the long nights, punctured by subconscious visions of her, of nights of desire unfulfilled, of spirit unreflected in her eyes, of words unspoken. Only now does the night seem so long, so full of longing. Will I find succour in this wine, in this TV, in this, this, is there something else to try? when I rise, the bed will still be empty, this soul seeking, this cock seeking - her element fire. This mind seeking her commune, this body seeking hers. It will sublime once more into the slow drudge of time, the slow ticking of the clock till she is in my orbit once more, slow torture of unspoken missing, wondering if she is thinking of me like I think of her. The river of time, flowing frozen toffe like until we meet one more, till the night is ours once more.
ReplyDeleteWow that was hard - 10 minutes to write - 7 more to remove all the a's I could find.
beautiful. the slow torture of unspoken missing. yeah.
ReplyDelete