freewriting on friday.

Freewriting is like a slap in the face. No matter how often I do it, I am still surprised by the feelings it evokes. And it's sort of like running. I think to myself, I don't want to run. I want to get into bed and eat ice cream. But then I run and I feel good and happy.* Same thing with freewriting. I think to myself, I don't want to write. I want to read a book and check the weather and go to sleep. But then I write and I feel cracked open inside. Which is good, even if it isn't always happy.

And it doesn't matter how often you do it. You will be surprised by the words you write down. Freewriting takes you to "first thoughts" (as Natalie Goldberg calls them), uncensored and somehow almost separate from yourself. I promise, there are things in your brain that you don't even know about.

I have been in love with the idea of freewriting for a long time; only recently have I actually experienced the real thing. First, let me tell you how I do it.

1. I find a spot. At a table in a coffee shop, in my bedroom with the door shut, at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, on a bench in the park.
2. I set a timer. I'm a fan of 10-minute intervals. Usually I'll do a whole string of 10-minute intervals, but I haven't reached the point where I feel ready to set the timer for longer. 20 minutes? 30 minutes? Scarytime.
3. I start the timer and go. I just write, sometimes starting with a prompt or some idea that's been floating through my brain. Very often I get stuck and I write the word "blank" over and over.
4. When the timer rings, I stop. I immediately write (10 minutes) even mid-sentence and then decide if I want to go for another 10.

That's it. It's really not hard. The only rule is keep going. Don't stop and think, don't check for grammar and spelling, don't erase or delete - just go.  For a long time I thought it was hard and didn't really try. I'd freewrite here and there without a lot of commitment and didn't produce much of anything. But when you set the timer and stick to it, you'd be surprised. You get over the first blank hump and then something breaks loose a little bit. And you keep going. I always know when I've really broken through because my handwriting gets crazy and loopy and not at all like myself. In controlled situations my writing is very elegant and tidy. When I get into the freewriting groove, it gets wild.

So let me tell you about my first, real, honest freewriting experience. I tried it in college and afterwards, but never lost control (which is the whole point). This past holiday season, I lost control and ohmygod it was something else. My flight was cancelled (as often happens when you're trying to fly in or out of Minnesota in December). A friend offered to pick me up and let me stay with her for the few days in St. Paul (yes days) until the next flight. Unfortunately, this meant sitting at the airport and waiting for 6 hours. And then sitting at the apartment for 2 quiet days while she was at work. Obviously, I could have entertained myself with TV and trashy magazines, but instead I told myself I would write. It started at the airport. I just said, Ok girl - write for 10 minutes. I started to write about the man outside waiting for a ride, writing about who he might be waiting for.  I did it and the words just came and so I did another 10 minutes. And another and another. All said and done, I filled 40 pages of a notebook in less than 3 days. A lot of it was garbage, but the floodgates just opened.

Since that experience, I have become a firm believer in the timed freewriting practice. I have been awakened to my own ability to create and surprised by the words I have to say.

Try it.

And now for some freewriting. The prompt I started with, Write about being cold.

It was the first day of fall today the first real fall day. I've been looking forward to it the whole summer. I can't understand why, but lately I hate the heat more than anything. So I was walking to work this morning and it was chilly and I had been so happy that it wasn't hot and then my toes got cold. I was walking in flip-flops and my toes were cold. And I got to the office and had to sit cross-legged in my chair to warm up my feet. And so I was thinking about discontent. You know, how I can spend an entire summer complaining about being hot, and then the very first day I'm not hot, there I am complaining about cold toes. My lord, that is discontent if I ever saw it. Blank blank blank blank I was also thinking about cold faces. I'm just having one of those days where I feel a little out of it, who knows why. Maybe I didn't sleep too well, maybe I shouldn't have had cheese and beer right before bed, but I feel tired and groggy and headachy and wishing I was wearing my glasses and not my contacts. So I was staring at my computer this morning just staring at a spreadsheet and I realized I was making the lemon face. The lemon face. I can explain the lemon face. It's when your resting face looks angry and your mouth gets all twisted up and you don't even realize it. Your resting face isn't peaceful and happy it's sour. I used to say that to my mom all the time. Mom, you're making the lemon face. I guess maybe it runs in the family. I just read something not too long ago, a list of good things you should do and one of the things on the list was "work on your resting face." The face where you're just reading a book, walking to work, staring at a spreadsheet. Make it peaceful and happy. It makes me think of blank-face disease, which I have. Also a family trait. I often think that I look happy and smiley when my face is really looking blank. No one's mentioned it lately, but I had a friend once who would make a face at me every time I was making blankface - just to let me know that I had absolutely no expression. So I had cold toes this morning and I had a lemon face and it's true, it's true: all I'm thinking about is laying out in the warm sun. I'm looking out the window and thinking about a Cape Cod summer day at Newcomb Hollow and laying out in the sun, drifting in and out of sleep, reading a book, splashing in the ocean. Man I miss the Cape and I've only been gone for a month. Well it's time to embrace fall because it's here. I'll get in the groove - I'll bust out my scarf and my mittens and some knitting needles and I won't wear flip-flops to work again and I do love fall. Eating squash and apples and drinking hot drinks and being chilly and sleeping under a big comforter. I do love all of those things. Blankblankblankblank this makes me think of how, by accident, I've stopped drinking coffee. Lately I cannot seem to get up early enough to make it, can't walk to work carrying it, can't afford to buy it and so I've just stopped drinking it. It's surprising but I feel (10 minutes).

Of course, I want to delete not 10 seconds after I finish. Believe me, I know it's just rambling. It is nothing special. You probably don't care. But it's just some proof that I'm working the muscle. I can also tell you that this is nothing compared to my real freewriting - the stuff no one sees. My real freewriting is weird and nonsensical and scarycrazy. I'm still not brave enough to put it out there, even if only friendly eyes will see it. So we've got some self-censored unimportant rambling on our hands here, but per our agreement, I will not delete.

Remember: to be brave, sometimes you have to start small.

*Ok, one time I went running and I didn't feel happy.  There were some unwise lunch decisions before the run and I'll say no more.  Except: think twice before eating a plate of stuffed quahogs right before you run.