Free to Write

I have quite a few books on writing prompts. Way back when I wasn't a parent I'd have hours to do nothing but write. I'd take my sweet time thumbing through my prompt books looking for the perfect one. It couldn't be too hard (I didn't want to work at writing), and it couldn't be anything weird like sci-fi (God forbid I stretch my imagination).

Then the struggle began. The writing then deleting. The banging of the head on the keyboard. The sweat over knowing my grammar sux sucks.

Then I discovered freewriting. Glorious uninhibited freewriting.

And my writing took off. (No, not published, but off...somewhere other than my head.)

One writing prompt said to write about your family during the summer when you were little. Lord knows I have enough When I Was Little stories. Instead of writing about my parents fighting and splitting up, I pretended they were still together.

I went on and on for pages without stopping once and wrote about the made-up summers we spent in our beach house in Cape Cod. I skipped the reality of Steak-um dinners and went for seafood ones instead (and not fish sticks!). I wrote about how we laughed all day playing on the beach, and played games on our screened-in porch at night while listening to the waves.

Sure, I made up that part of my childhood. But I would have never even thought to do that if it wasn't for freewriting and being open enough to see where it would take me. Now I have those summer Cape Cod visions in my head. In some alternate universe I spent summers there. I can see it.
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Saturday

Free to Write

I have quite a few books on writing prompts. Way back when I wasn't a parent I'd have hours to do nothing but write. I'd take my sweet time thumbing through my prompt books looking for the perfect one. It couldn't be too hard (I didn't want to work at writing), and it couldn't be anything weird like sci-fi (God forbid I stretch my imagination).

Then the struggle began. The writing then deleting. The banging of the head on the keyboard. The sweat over knowing my grammar sux sucks.

Then I discovered freewriting. Glorious uninhibited freewriting.

And my writing took off. (No, not published, but off...somewhere other than my head.)

One writing prompt said to write about your family during the summer when you were little. Lord knows I have enough When I Was Little stories. Instead of writing about my parents fighting and splitting up, I pretended they were still together.

I went on and on for pages without stopping once and wrote about the made-up summers we spent in our beach house in Cape Cod. I skipped the reality of Steak-um dinners and went for seafood ones instead (and not fish sticks!). I wrote about how we laughed all day playing on the beach, and played games on our screened-in porch at night while listening to the waves.

Sure, I made up that part of my childhood. But I would have never even thought to do that if it wasn't for freewriting and being open enough to see where it would take me. Now I have those summer Cape Cod visions in my head. In some alternate universe I spent summers there. I can see it.
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