Make sure you check out the list of writing tips I posted earlier today! It's the blog post right below this one.
And, in keeping with that theme, here is today's first line:
Monday, June 25, 2012
The only writing advice you'll ever need.
I came across this little gem on the interwebs and had to share. May Quicksies help you with at least one or two of these steps each day.
~Lisa
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~Lisa
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Sunday, June 24, 2012
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Friday, June 22, 2012
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Tuesday, June 19, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
Sunday, June 17, 2012
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Friday, June 15, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Wednesday, June 13, 2012
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Monday, June 11, 2012
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Saturday, June 9, 2012
Friday, June 8, 2012
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Monday, June 4, 2012
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Daily First Line -- 6/3/12
Today's first line comes from Tim Steffen again. And farther down on the page, I posted what I wrote using his first line as a starting point. Write yours first before reading mine. And feel free to email me what you write -- I'd love to read it, and to post it so everyone can see how different stories can be even using the same first line.
The first line:
A sci-fi quicksie
Tim Steffen submitted a few first lines for me to use in the blog. Today's comes from him. Below is what I wrote as a result.
I love this story. First of all, I love science fiction, so it's no wonder I went in that direction. But even more, this is a perfect example of how you must not stop to "fix" anything when you're doing this exercise.
As I wrote, I was aware of the inconsistencies. My main character's age and city change within the span of a few paragraphs. I had forgotten how old I made him when I referenced it again, so I guessed. I knew the newspaper and city name didn't match, but I kept going because the timer was running.
Without that timer spurring me on, I would've spent who-knows how long figuring out where I wanted to set the story, and making all of the details consistent. I couldn't even remember what I named him, and I admit I did take half a second to glance at the top of the page to see what name I'd given him, so at least I could keep that consistent.
But that's not what these exercises are about. That kind of work is for the first rewrite. Quicksies are for following inspiration and letting ideas fly from your brain into your fingers. Reading back over this exercise, I see all kinds of seeds planted that I could develop through a much longer story. I'm especially interested to find out why people are dying of boredom.
So, I hope this exercise encourages you to keep doing your daily quicksies. I've been doing this exercise for years, and this is only the 4th or 5th time that I've come up with something that I really want to explore and develop. Keep at it, and you'll be surprised with what your brain gives you!
Love,
Lisa
======================================================================
He opened up to the obituaries and saw his name. He knew it had to be a mistake. He was a 35-year-old stock broker, not an ageing man with liver failure and four children and nine grandchildren.
Yet there it was, staring back at him. His name. His own name. His middle name. His parents’ names preceded in death by. What was this?
He flipped to the front of the paper again. The New York Times, blazoned right there at the top of the paper, in the familiar old font.
Wait a minute. The date. The date was today’s date. But the year was 2045?? How could that be?
He flipped back to the obituaries. He read other names. Birth dates in the 1960s, ‘70s, ‘80s. A few in the 21st Century, dead of accidents, horrible disease, ennui.
Ennui? People could die of boredom? Apparently, here in the year 2045 – if it really was the year 2045 – people could die of ennui.
Chuck went to the window and looked out. Sure enough, the landscape had all changed. No longer did his apartment overlook the Lake Erie and east side of Cleveland that he knew so well. There was a bit of water there, somewhere, under lots of landing pads. And sure enough, there were some flying cars!
It MUST be the future! The flying cars were proof! Only the future has flying cars!
Well, he had to admit it might be a stretch to call them flying cars. More like helicopters with wheels and retractible blades. But that was close enough to flying cars. They landed, they drove off the landing strip, and they headed down East 9th Street to Euclid Avenue.
What was going on? Chuck ran to the mirror. He saw his same face peering back at him. That certainly was not 30 years older than it should have been. He was still a 45-year-old stock broker getting ready for work.
He looked around his apartment. It was still his apartment. Nothing looked out of place. He still had his old stuff that he loved. His was a Traditional taste, so the apartment could’ve looked appropriate in any year. Yeah, staying in here didn’t give him much of a clue. He had to go outside.
He finished dressing, put the paper under his arm (as tangible proof of the insanity ahead), and walked out the front door.
That’s when everything changed.
The moment he stepped out of his front door, he felt like he had walked through some sort of gooey electrical field. The hair on his arms stood up, his muscles had to work a little harder, like they were fighting against something, and his vision got a little blurry, like he had something in his eye.
Once he was in his hallway, he felt fine. He looked back into his apartment. It looked OK. He walked back through his doorway and it was as if his apartment sucked him in. His body suddenly sped up and moved quicker than he thought possible, back into his foyer.
What the fuck was going on?
He walked back out the front door again, through the gooey electricity. He reached back to pull his door closed and his arm was momentarily sucked into the apartment, nearly ripping the limb out of his shoulder socket. He managed to get his door closed and locked, hoping that he’d return home tonight and find everything inside still OK.
Now... What was he going to find outside?
Hurdle one: The elevator.
Chuck walked to where the elevator should be, but he found only a large silver disk on the floor. He must’ve walked up and down the hallway a dozen times to see what he could find, but everywhere it was the same. Doors with numbers on them into the apartments, but no elevator.
He walked back to the silver disk and cautiously stepped a foot onto it. No gooey electrical field. He tentatively walked forward and stepped all the way onto the disk. Nothing happened. He looked up and saw what looked like a speaker overhead.
On a whim, he said, “Lobby, please.”
I love this story. First of all, I love science fiction, so it's no wonder I went in that direction. But even more, this is a perfect example of how you must not stop to "fix" anything when you're doing this exercise.
As I wrote, I was aware of the inconsistencies. My main character's age and city change within the span of a few paragraphs. I had forgotten how old I made him when I referenced it again, so I guessed. I knew the newspaper and city name didn't match, but I kept going because the timer was running.
Without that timer spurring me on, I would've spent who-knows how long figuring out where I wanted to set the story, and making all of the details consistent. I couldn't even remember what I named him, and I admit I did take half a second to glance at the top of the page to see what name I'd given him, so at least I could keep that consistent.
But that's not what these exercises are about. That kind of work is for the first rewrite. Quicksies are for following inspiration and letting ideas fly from your brain into your fingers. Reading back over this exercise, I see all kinds of seeds planted that I could develop through a much longer story. I'm especially interested to find out why people are dying of boredom.
So, I hope this exercise encourages you to keep doing your daily quicksies. I've been doing this exercise for years, and this is only the 4th or 5th time that I've come up with something that I really want to explore and develop. Keep at it, and you'll be surprised with what your brain gives you!
Love,
Lisa
======================================================================
Yet there it was, staring back at him. His name. His own name. His middle name. His parents’ names preceded in death by. What was this?
He flipped to the front of the paper again. The New York Times, blazoned right there at the top of the paper, in the familiar old font.
Wait a minute. The date. The date was today’s date. But the year was 2045?? How could that be?
He flipped back to the obituaries. He read other names. Birth dates in the 1960s, ‘70s, ‘80s. A few in the 21st Century, dead of accidents, horrible disease, ennui.
Ennui? People could die of boredom? Apparently, here in the year 2045 – if it really was the year 2045 – people could die of ennui.
Chuck went to the window and looked out. Sure enough, the landscape had all changed. No longer did his apartment overlook the Lake Erie and east side of Cleveland that he knew so well. There was a bit of water there, somewhere, under lots of landing pads. And sure enough, there were some flying cars!
It MUST be the future! The flying cars were proof! Only the future has flying cars!
Well, he had to admit it might be a stretch to call them flying cars. More like helicopters with wheels and retractible blades. But that was close enough to flying cars. They landed, they drove off the landing strip, and they headed down East 9th Street to Euclid Avenue.
What was going on? Chuck ran to the mirror. He saw his same face peering back at him. That certainly was not 30 years older than it should have been. He was still a 45-year-old stock broker getting ready for work.
He looked around his apartment. It was still his apartment. Nothing looked out of place. He still had his old stuff that he loved. His was a Traditional taste, so the apartment could’ve looked appropriate in any year. Yeah, staying in here didn’t give him much of a clue. He had to go outside.
He finished dressing, put the paper under his arm (as tangible proof of the insanity ahead), and walked out the front door.
That’s when everything changed.
The moment he stepped out of his front door, he felt like he had walked through some sort of gooey electrical field. The hair on his arms stood up, his muscles had to work a little harder, like they were fighting against something, and his vision got a little blurry, like he had something in his eye.
Once he was in his hallway, he felt fine. He looked back into his apartment. It looked OK. He walked back through his doorway and it was as if his apartment sucked him in. His body suddenly sped up and moved quicker than he thought possible, back into his foyer.
What the fuck was going on?
He walked back out the front door again, through the gooey electricity. He reached back to pull his door closed and his arm was momentarily sucked into the apartment, nearly ripping the limb out of his shoulder socket. He managed to get his door closed and locked, hoping that he’d return home tonight and find everything inside still OK.
Now... What was he going to find outside?
Hurdle one: The elevator.
Chuck walked to where the elevator should be, but he found only a large silver disk on the floor. He must’ve walked up and down the hallway a dozen times to see what he could find, but everywhere it was the same. Doors with numbers on them into the apartments, but no elevator.
He walked back to the silver disk and cautiously stepped a foot onto it. No gooey electrical field. He tentatively walked forward and stepped all the way onto the disk. Nothing happened. He looked up and saw what looked like a speaker overhead.
On a whim, he said, “Lobby, please.”
.
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Friday, June 1, 2012
Daily First Line -- 6/1/12
June 1st. Summertime here in the northern hemisphere! Lazy, hazy days. That means a LOT of time to write. Whether it's early in the morning or late in the evening, you have a lot of extra daylight keeping you energized. Use that energy to write for ten minutes a day.
Here's your prompt for today:
Here's your prompt for today:
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/31/12
Yep, there was no Daily First Line posted yesterday. The boring truth is that I was sick and I had technical problems, so I spent the entire day sleeping. But I'd like you to come up with a much more interesting excuse. Therefore, today's first line is:
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/29/12
Here ya go. The weather here in NYC is too hot to think, so I'll write what I know:
Monday, May 28, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/28/12
Happy Memorial Day!
I don't want to influence what you write by giving you an overtly holiday-themed first line, so here's something nice and generic:
I don't want to influence what you write by giving you an overtly holiday-themed first line, so here's something nice and generic:
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/27/12
Tim Steffen likes doing Quicksies, and he's sent me a couple of his exercises to read. I love that! I love when people get as excited about this writing exercise as I do. So, I asked him if he'd also like to submit some first lines for me to use in the blog, so I could write from them.
The problem in thinking up a new First Line each day is that I don't get to write for ten minutes based on it. By the time I come up with a line, and post it in the blog/Facebook/Twitter, I've already thought about it too long. Anything I'd write from it would be premeditated instead of spontaneous.
But writing from someone else's first line lets me be spontaneous! Today's earlier post farther down the page is what I wrote from Tim's first line.
Do your exercise first, then go read mine. And send me yours if you want. I'd love to read it and post several different exercises all written from the same first line.
Here is today's first line, compliments of Tim:
The problem in thinking up a new First Line each day is that I don't get to write for ten minutes based on it. By the time I come up with a line, and post it in the blog/Facebook/Twitter, I've already thought about it too long. Anything I'd write from it would be premeditated instead of spontaneous.
But writing from someone else's first line lets me be spontaneous! Today's earlier post farther down the page is what I wrote from Tim's first line.
Do your exercise first, then go read mine. And send me yours if you want. I'd love to read it and post several different exercises all written from the same first line.
Here is today's first line, compliments of Tim:
I made this!
Tim Steffen contributed a few First Lines to the Quicksies blog. I'll post them over the next week or so. I'll also post what I wrote from his first lines. Below is what I wrote from today's First Line by Tim.
My thought process while writing this was kind of interesting. A bunch of ideas sprang to mind, and I ended up dismissing a few and running with the ones I liked best. At first glance, that seems to contradict the purpose of Quicksies: write for ten minutes without judging what you write. But I wasn't judging. I was selecting. It's a subtle but important difference.
I kept my fingers moving for the entire ten minutes. I never stopped typing. I type very fast, and I think very fast. Ideas came to me in bunches, not single-file. I want to admit that when I get multiple ideas at once, I don't necessarily go with the first one just because it's the first. I pick one over the others, yet never let my fingers stop moving. That's the important part. I didn't judge the ideas that cropped up, or take time to analyze and judge. I made a decision, but it was an instant decision to go with one over another, for whatever reason.
I realize this decision-making process is a sign of growing as a writer. We all have loads of ideas which come to us at any time. I think the mark of a true writer is the ability to commit to an idea and develop it, instead of fretting over which idea to pick and, as a result, never committing to any of them. That's what I used to do. Quicksies have helped me get past that.
So, here's what I wrote from Tim's suggestion. I like it. If I wasn't me, I'd read me.
~Lisa
=====================================================================
The cup fell off the table and shattered. Karen cowered under the table as items fell and crashed to the floor around her. She’d lived through tornadoes and earthquakes. She could handle those. These were acts of nature. Acts of God, if you believed in that sort of thing. But this was a direct attack. This was a direct attack on her neighborhood. This was a direct attack on her HOME. HER home.
How could this be? How could she have moved to a “nice” neighborhood 20 years ago only to have it turn into a frightening slum now? She was close to retiring. Her children were grown and her husband was dead and she was alone and loving it. She came and went as she wanted. She made her own schedule and answered to no one. For someone born in the 50s and married early, that was a whole new world that she welcomed. Three kids all before she was old enough to drink. Her entire life had been dedicated to home making.
That term always made her laugh. She didn’t make a home. She provided love. That was all. She nurtured, and got nurtured in return. Her children were fabulous adults who came to visit her at least once a week. They had begged her to move. They moved out to the suburbs as soon as they got married. But she wanted to stay in her house her near the city. The house she and her husband bought together after years of scrimping and saving. The house where her children had all of their firsts. She grew up here and she wanted to die here.
But not today.
She would not die cowering under her table from a bunch of thugs who decided to wreak havoc because some dirty cop had beaten some lawbreaker to death, and some lay-about with nothing better to do had decided to capture the whole thing on his iPhone and post it online.
Rodney King was supposed to have taught the world something. Karen also just wanted everybody to get along. But this new wave of kids, these new malcontents, these weren’t poverty-stricken rebels storming the castle. These were well-to-do kids who had never known want. Their lives had been smooth. Featureless. Now they were becoming adults and in dire need of making some features on the landscape.
But why did they have to destroy things? Why destruction instead of creation? That’s what Karen couldn’t understand.
Karen crawled out from under the table and peeked outside. Some scrawny guys were trying to turn over her car.
That was the last straw. Without thinking, Karen grabbed the baseball bat her son-in-law made her keep behind the front door. She ran outside in her sweatpants and t-shirt, aging tits sagging with no bra to restrain them.
She screamed at the scrawny boys in her driveway. More out of shock than fear, they stopped and stared at her. She ran at them, bat swinging. She didn’t remember what she said, but knew it had something to do with “damn kids” and “get a job” or something banal and trite like that. If she wasn’t so angry, she would have laughed at herself.
In fact, she did laugh at herself when, the next day, her granddaughter emailed her a link to a YouTube video that had gone viral. “Raging Granny” already had over 200,000 hits. Apparently, the spirit of Rodney king was alive and well in the 21st Century. Her neighbor’s little boy had recorded Karen going ballistic on the scrawny boys, and lord did Karen ever get a kick out of that!
And it certainly kept the boys away. The cops could see quite clearly who they were, and within days, the boys no longer bothered anyone, and would not be bothering anyone for a very, very long time.
The cup fell off the table and shattered. Karen cowered under the table as items fell and crashed to the floor around her. She’d lived through tornadoes and earthquakes. She could handle those. These were acts of nature. Acts of God, if you believed in that sort of thing. But this was a direct attack. This was a direct attack on her neighborhood. This was a direct attack on her HOME. HER home.
How could this be? How could she have moved to a “nice” neighborhood 20 years ago only to have it turn into a frightening slum now? She was close to retiring. Her children were grown and her husband was dead and she was alone and loving it. She came and went as she wanted. She made her own schedule and answered to no one. For someone born in the 50s and married early, that was a whole new world that she welcomed. Three kids all before she was old enough to drink. Her entire life had been dedicated to home making.
That term always made her laugh. She didn’t make a home. She provided love. That was all. She nurtured, and got nurtured in return. Her children were fabulous adults who came to visit her at least once a week. They had begged her to move. They moved out to the suburbs as soon as they got married. But she wanted to stay in her house her near the city. The house she and her husband bought together after years of scrimping and saving. The house where her children had all of their firsts. She grew up here and she wanted to die here.
But not today.
She would not die cowering under her table from a bunch of thugs who decided to wreak havoc because some dirty cop had beaten some lawbreaker to death, and some lay-about with nothing better to do had decided to capture the whole thing on his iPhone and post it online.
Rodney King was supposed to have taught the world something. Karen also just wanted everybody to get along. But this new wave of kids, these new malcontents, these weren’t poverty-stricken rebels storming the castle. These were well-to-do kids who had never known want. Their lives had been smooth. Featureless. Now they were becoming adults and in dire need of making some features on the landscape.
But why did they have to destroy things? Why destruction instead of creation? That’s what Karen couldn’t understand.
Karen crawled out from under the table and peeked outside. Some scrawny guys were trying to turn over her car.
That was the last straw. Without thinking, Karen grabbed the baseball bat her son-in-law made her keep behind the front door. She ran outside in her sweatpants and t-shirt, aging tits sagging with no bra to restrain them.
She screamed at the scrawny boys in her driveway. More out of shock than fear, they stopped and stared at her. She ran at them, bat swinging. She didn’t remember what she said, but knew it had something to do with “damn kids” and “get a job” or something banal and trite like that. If she wasn’t so angry, she would have laughed at herself.
In fact, she did laugh at herself when, the next day, her granddaughter emailed her a link to a YouTube video that had gone viral. “Raging Granny” already had over 200,000 hits. Apparently, the spirit of Rodney king was alive and well in the 21st Century. Her neighbor’s little boy had recorded Karen going ballistic on the scrawny boys, and lord did Karen ever get a kick out of that!
And it certainly kept the boys away. The cops could see quite clearly who they were, and within days, the boys no longer bothered anyone, and would not be bothering anyone for a very, very long time.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Monday, May 21, 2012
Sunday, May 20, 2012
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Friday, May 18, 2012
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/17/12
In honor of the gorgeous spring weather covering much of the United States right now:
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
Monday, May 14, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/14/12
Today's first line, with a little background shading to make it easier to read:
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/13/12
It's Mother's Day here in the States. In honor of all the moms, here's today's first line:
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Friday, May 11, 2012
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/10/12
Since I was travelling and wasn't able to post today's first line early in the morning, we're working that theme into the first line:
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Tuesday, May 8, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/8/12
Here's a variation of a sentence I saw on a sign today. I thought it would make a great opening line. What do you think?
Today's first line:
Today's first line:
Monday, May 7, 2012
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/6/12
I'm experimenting with different font for the daily first line. Let me know if there's a type or color which makes the line easier to read at a glance, so you can get typing as soon as you see it.
Today's color is purple:
Saturday, May 5, 2012
A reader-submitted Quicksie!!
We've got our first submission from someone who used one of the Daily First Lines! Tim Steffen is a writer and illustrator who writes children's and young adult books. Check out his website for info on everything. His newest, Sailboat In A Cellar, is available to buy or borrow through amazon.com.
Below is what Tim wrote from last Wednesday's first line, "The fog hung around the morning," exactly as he wrote it, in the ten minutes he wrote.
Please submit your own quicksies! I love reading them.
Lisa
=====================================================================
by Tim Steffen
The fog hung around this morning. It’d been a long night with friends and everyone was still sleeping by the time I woke with my dog, Gio, by my side. Gio is a dog of habit, much like humans are in our own ways, and the first thing he wants in the morning is his breakfast. After a tasty meal he barks and let me know that it’s time to go out and shore up the property while doing his duty, or doody, if you prefer.
It was on this particular misty morning that I let Gio out in the fog that had rolled in over the Berks County hills of Pennsylvania. His usual routine is to romp around for a half and hour, come back to the door and bark for me to let him in, wipe his feet, and then throw his ball for him to play with for another ten minutes. After that, it’s shut-down time on the sofa for a few hours.
As the guests slept, I made coffee and waited for the dark brew. I poured my first cup of the day and waited for Gio’s bark at the door. Nothing. I had another cup. Still nothing.
I opened the door to the patio and looked out, but couldn’t see any farther than a few trees. The fog lay heavy across the upper meadow. I can usually hear the jingle of Gio’s pendant on his collar, but again, nothing. Silence. Almost creepy silence on that Sunday morning.
I called out, “Gio!” I called once more, but there was no jingling and no Gio in sight.
I put on my Docksides and walked outside, up the meadow, and there in the highest point of the expansive field was Gio, standing nose to nose with a doe. They regarded each other. The doe looked up, saw me and then trotted off into the woods.
It was on this particular misty morning that I let Gio out in the fog that had rolled in over the Berks County hills of Pennsylvania. His usual routine is to romp around for a half and hour, come back to the door and bark for me to let him in, wipe his feet, and then throw his ball for him to play with for another ten minutes. After that, it’s shut-down time on the sofa for a few hours.
As the guests slept, I made coffee and waited for the dark brew. I poured my first cup of the day and waited for Gio’s bark at the door. Nothing. I had another cup. Still nothing.
I opened the door to the patio and looked out, but couldn’t see any farther than a few trees. The fog lay heavy across the upper meadow. I can usually hear the jingle of Gio’s pendant on his collar, but again, nothing. Silence. Almost creepy silence on that Sunday morning.
I called out, “Gio!” I called once more, but there was no jingling and no Gio in sight.
I put on my Docksides and walked outside, up the meadow, and there in the highest point of the expansive field was Gio, standing nose to nose with a doe. They regarded each other. The doe looked up, saw me and then trotted off into the woods.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/4/12
We'll avoid all references today to Star Wars or Kent State. (Check Wikipedia for "May 4th" if you aren't familiar with those references.) Instead, here's a little family conflict, for you to dramatize or comedy-tize:
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Daily First Line -- 5/1/12
It's been a month! April's list of First Lines will be available soon on the First Lines page of the blog. Go back any time and grab a line you missed and write on that one.
For today, a new month begins with this.....
For today, a new month begins with this.....
Happy One-Month Anniversary! Now don't break the chain....
The Quicksies blog started one month ago. Happy Anniversary, everyone!
How many days this month did you write?
In physical fitness, it's said that there's a very small difference between the mindset of someone who exercises for five hours a day and someone who exercises for fifteen minutes a day. The biggest gap is between those who exercise for fifteen minutes and those who don't exercise at all.
Behaviorally, you have to do something for 28 days in a row for it to become a habit. This blog is now a habit with me.
I'd like to challenge everyone reading this to make Quicksies a habit. May has 31 days. Pick 28 consecutive days this month and make yourself write for ten minutes. You can use the Quicksies first lines, or some other exercises. But do it every day for 28 days. See what results from it.
A great way to stay motivated is to use a "don't break the chain" calendar, like this one at The Writers Store. The idea is that you draw a big "X" on each day that you do your exercise. It tricks the mind into not wanting to break the chain of Xs on the calendar. When you focus on "keep the chain going," you forget to make excuses or find reasons not to write.
In fact, the opposite happens. You go out of your way to find time to write, not for the satisfaction of writing, but for the satisfaction of putting a big X on your calendar to keep the chain unbroken.
There are tons of calendar aps that let you do this, or a good old-fashioned wall calendar can provide great motivation as it hangs over your desk. Pick a calendar, write for ten minutes, and get the satisfaction of drawing a big X to show you did it.
Kisses
Lisa
How many days this month did you write?
In physical fitness, it's said that there's a very small difference between the mindset of someone who exercises for five hours a day and someone who exercises for fifteen minutes a day. The biggest gap is between those who exercise for fifteen minutes and those who don't exercise at all.
Behaviorally, you have to do something for 28 days in a row for it to become a habit. This blog is now a habit with me.
I'd like to challenge everyone reading this to make Quicksies a habit. May has 31 days. Pick 28 consecutive days this month and make yourself write for ten minutes. You can use the Quicksies first lines, or some other exercises. But do it every day for 28 days. See what results from it.
A great way to stay motivated is to use a "don't break the chain" calendar, like this one at The Writers Store. The idea is that you draw a big "X" on each day that you do your exercise. It tricks the mind into not wanting to break the chain of Xs on the calendar. When you focus on "keep the chain going," you forget to make excuses or find reasons not to write.
In fact, the opposite happens. You go out of your way to find time to write, not for the satisfaction of writing, but for the satisfaction of putting a big X on your calendar to keep the chain unbroken.
There are tons of calendar aps that let you do this, or a good old-fashioned wall calendar can provide great motivation as it hangs over your desk. Pick a calendar, write for ten minutes, and get the satisfaction of drawing a big X to show you did it.
Kisses
Lisa
Monday, April 30, 2012
Daily First Line -- 4/30/12
Today's the last day of ScriptFrenzy. Did you work on a script? Did you finish it?I did neither. Instead, I started this blog on 4/1 and have been putting my time into it. It's amazing what you can accomplish if you just make it a priority!
Some big news to talk about tomorrow, for Quicksies' one-month anniversary. But for now......
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Saturday, April 28, 2012
George Clooney
Years ago, a group of us exchanged first lines every day, and one of the guys gave us the first line that I gave you today.
Below is what I wrote from it. It demonstrates that you always know more than you think you know.
In it, I mention Darfur. At the time I wrote this, it was long before news of the genocide there became common knowledge in America. George Bush the Younger was still in office and the war in Afghanistan was still raging.
It was the news reports from Afghanistan which I visualized while writing this. When the name "Darfur" popped into my head, I remember another part of my brain thought, "What? Where's that? Is that a real country?" I even spell it wrong in the story. But I didn't edit myself. I didn't judge my writing. I just kept writing.
I have no idea how I knew the name of the country. Most likely, George Clooney mentioned it in an interview I saw. I watch a lot of George Clooney interviews.
The name and the news story didn't register in my conscious mind, but clearly, my subconscious absorbed it, where it lay in wait to be recalled for a story.
If I hadn't been writing with a timer, doing a 10-minute exercise, I know I would've stopped and researched Darfur -- found out where the country was, what was going on there, and (I hope) how to spell it. And that break would've prevented me from finishing this story, falling in love with Frankie, and wanting to put him in a screenplay someday.
So, don't psych yourself out. You know more than you think you do. You're better than you think you are. Let your stories write themselves.
Love,
Lisa
P.S. I just now gave the piece a title. It didn't have one previously.
============================================================
His life had become unrecognizable. Frankie could still see and hear and process everything. His mind was exactly the same. But his body was gone. Literally and figuratively gone. His life had become a succession of assistants helping him and washing him and moving him. When the assistants weren't doing something medical or toilet-related, his family paraded one after another through his room, reading to him, talking with him, or just sitting and watching TV.
Why didn't they understand he wanted to be left alone? Why didn't they understand that it would be better to die than to live like this for the next 60 years?
He had no memory of the attack at all. The last thing he remembered is that his division had been sent into Darfour simply as a "peace-keeping" mission. They were under strict orders not to shoot and not to engage with the citizens in any way. They were simply a presence meant to instill fear in those wishing to instill fear in us, and meant to instill a sense of security in everyone else.
Apparently, they failed to do either. He remembered an elderly woman coming up and yelling at McCormick. She was screaming and crying and pointing at him and the captain. No one knew what she was saying, but everyone watched her.
Frankie watched her for a second and then began to scan the street. He thought she might be a diversion. At the moment that he called out to the captain to convey that very thought, that's when the car exploded. It had just been sitting there across the street. No one even paid any attention to it. No one was in the car. It didn't drive up. It didn't drive away. It was just part of the background picture, and since Frankie wasn't responsible for checking out the background picture, he didn't think anything of it.
He remembered the screaming, crying old lady and he remembered the percussion of the explosion. That's all he remembered.
The next thing he knew, he was in some hospital in the States, his family were all in the room, and he couldn't feel his legs.
He still hadn't been able to lift his head and look down. He didn't know if his legs were paralyzed or gone. He could see his arms because they were both in casts and were elevated with the wrists higher than the shoulders.
He knew he could talk once they took the tube out of his throat, but he didn't know when that would be. They told him he was injured and burned and they didn't want him breathing on his own yet, even though they said he would probably be able to eventually. He could move his face and make expressions. He could laugh and cry with his eyes, though his throat made no sound and his diaphragm didn't move.
So there he lay, wondering why he was laying there, hoping it was for a damn good reason. His life had become unrecognizable and with each day, he became more and more resigned to the idea that it would never be like it was, that this would be his life from now on. He hoped it was for a damn good reason, but he had a very strong suspicion that it was not. And just as soon as he could talk, he'd tell people about it.
Below is what I wrote from it. It demonstrates that you always know more than you think you know.
In it, I mention Darfur. At the time I wrote this, it was long before news of the genocide there became common knowledge in America. George Bush the Younger was still in office and the war in Afghanistan was still raging.
It was the news reports from Afghanistan which I visualized while writing this. When the name "Darfur" popped into my head, I remember another part of my brain thought, "What? Where's that? Is that a real country?" I even spell it wrong in the story. But I didn't edit myself. I didn't judge my writing. I just kept writing.
I have no idea how I knew the name of the country. Most likely, George Clooney mentioned it in an interview I saw. I watch a lot of George Clooney interviews.
The name and the news story didn't register in my conscious mind, but clearly, my subconscious absorbed it, where it lay in wait to be recalled for a story.
If I hadn't been writing with a timer, doing a 10-minute exercise, I know I would've stopped and researched Darfur -- found out where the country was, what was going on there, and (I hope) how to spell it. And that break would've prevented me from finishing this story, falling in love with Frankie, and wanting to put him in a screenplay someday.
So, don't psych yourself out. You know more than you think you do. You're better than you think you are. Let your stories write themselves.Love,
Lisa
P.S. I just now gave the piece a title. It didn't have one previously.
============================================================
Soldier On
His life had become unrecognizable. Frankie could still see and hear and process everything. His mind was exactly the same. But his body was gone. Literally and figuratively gone. His life had become a succession of assistants helping him and washing him and moving him. When the assistants weren't doing something medical or toilet-related, his family paraded one after another through his room, reading to him, talking with him, or just sitting and watching TV.
Why didn't they understand he wanted to be left alone? Why didn't they understand that it would be better to die than to live like this for the next 60 years?
He had no memory of the attack at all. The last thing he remembered is that his division had been sent into Darfour simply as a "peace-keeping" mission. They were under strict orders not to shoot and not to engage with the citizens in any way. They were simply a presence meant to instill fear in those wishing to instill fear in us, and meant to instill a sense of security in everyone else.
Apparently, they failed to do either. He remembered an elderly woman coming up and yelling at McCormick. She was screaming and crying and pointing at him and the captain. No one knew what she was saying, but everyone watched her.
Frankie watched her for a second and then began to scan the street. He thought she might be a diversion. At the moment that he called out to the captain to convey that very thought, that's when the car exploded. It had just been sitting there across the street. No one even paid any attention to it. No one was in the car. It didn't drive up. It didn't drive away. It was just part of the background picture, and since Frankie wasn't responsible for checking out the background picture, he didn't think anything of it.
He remembered the screaming, crying old lady and he remembered the percussion of the explosion. That's all he remembered.
The next thing he knew, he was in some hospital in the States, his family were all in the room, and he couldn't feel his legs.
He still hadn't been able to lift his head and look down. He didn't know if his legs were paralyzed or gone. He could see his arms because they were both in casts and were elevated with the wrists higher than the shoulders.
He knew he could talk once they took the tube out of his throat, but he didn't know when that would be. They told him he was injured and burned and they didn't want him breathing on his own yet, even though they said he would probably be able to eventually. He could move his face and make expressions. He could laugh and cry with his eyes, though his throat made no sound and his diaphragm didn't move.
So there he lay, wondering why he was laying there, hoping it was for a damn good reason. His life had become unrecognizable and with each day, he became more and more resigned to the idea that it would never be like it was, that this would be his life from now on. He hoped it was for a damn good reason, but he had a very strong suspicion that it was not. And just as soon as he could talk, he'd tell people about it.
Daily First Line -- 4/28/12
Here's another first line that someone else gave me ages ago. Later today, I'll post what I wrote from it.
For now, let's see what you write.....
For now, let's see what you write.....
Friday, April 27, 2012
Daily First Line -- 4/27/12
I bought a book the other day I've been meaning to buy for a while: Blake Snyder's Save The Cat: The Last Book On Screenwriting You'll Ever Need.I forget who first recommended it, but "I need to check that out," has always been in the back of my mind. When I found myself in a bookstore recently (thank god some still exist), I turned to my left, and it was right there at eye level. I took it as a sign and paid the extra bucks in Canadian dollars (I'm in Toronto right now) to get it.
Has anyone read it? Opinions? I'm gonna devour it this weekend. I love that, in the introduction, he puts the philosophies of Joseph Campbell and Robet McKee up there on the pedestals where they belong.
In the meantime, on to the important stuff, like actually writing today...
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Daily First Line -- 4/26/12
We're almost a month into the blog now! Have you been doing the exercises every day? What have you noticed about your writing? I'd love to hear if any patterns or themes are emerging. In case you didn't realize it, that's your 'voice' emereging. Yay you!
And on to the business of today's writing "soup starter"........
And on to the business of today's writing "soup starter"........
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Monday, April 23, 2012
Daily First Line -- 4/23/12: Words, words, words.
It's Shakespeare's Birthday! In honor of the greatest writer who ever lived, today's First Line has a bit of an Elizabethan flair. But don't let that influence your exercise. Go with whatever pops into your head:
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Daily First Line -- 4/22/12
Yesterday's first line was prompted by something, but I didn't want to reveal what, for fear of influencing what you wrote.
It was the Queen's birthday. Queen Elizabeth II turned 86, and anything English makes me think of one thing: tea.
Well, two things, actually. Tea, or Shakespeare. As tomorrow is Shakespeare's birthday, we'll talk about him then!
For now, here's today's first line, inspired by nothing at all:
It was the Queen's birthday. Queen Elizabeth II turned 86, and anything English makes me think of one thing: tea.
Well, two things, actually. Tea, or Shakespeare. As tomorrow is Shakespeare's birthday, we'll talk about him then!
For now, here's today's first line, inspired by nothing at all:
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Daily First Line -- 4/21/12
Here's today's first line. Later I'll reveal what inspired it. I don't want to mention that now, because I don't want to influence what you write:
Friday, April 20, 2012
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Yet another quicksie...
Here's what I originally wrote when I received this morning's First Line from a friend. I think this is my favorite story from the ten-minute exercises, for two reasons.
First, it's the first time I finished a story before the timer went off. Back then, I was very focused on learning structure, and I really wanted all of my writing exercises to have a beginning, middle, and end. It was easy for me to ramble stream-of-consciousness for ten minutes. It wasn't easy for me to craft a story. But when I got to the last line and realized the timer hadn't gone off, it didn't matter. The story had a beginning, middle, and end, and I did not let myself go back and edit it.
I did, however, let myself give it a title. That's definitely allowed.
The other thing I like about it is its structure. I relied on repetition at the start, because once again I didn't know what to write. But then my brain latched onto repetition as a style, and I deliberately used it throughout. I really like the result.
Again, I never, ever, ever would've written something like this if I hadn't had a ten-minute time restriction. I would've over-planned and over-analyzed and, eventually, given up and turned on the TV.
Don't turn on the TV. Turn on the timer and go write for ten minutes!
.....after you read this:
First, it's the first time I finished a story before the timer went off. Back then, I was very focused on learning structure, and I really wanted all of my writing exercises to have a beginning, middle, and end. It was easy for me to ramble stream-of-consciousness for ten minutes. It wasn't easy for me to craft a story. But when I got to the last line and realized the timer hadn't gone off, it didn't matter. The story had a beginning, middle, and end, and I did not let myself go back and edit it.
I did, however, let myself give it a title. That's definitely allowed.
The other thing I like about it is its structure. I relied on repetition at the start, because once again I didn't know what to write. But then my brain latched onto repetition as a style, and I deliberately used it throughout. I really like the result.
Again, I never, ever, ever would've written something like this if I hadn't had a ten-minute time restriction. I would've over-planned and over-analyzed and, eventually, given up and turned on the TV.Don't turn on the TV. Turn on the timer and go write for ten minutes!
.....after you read this:
Love,
Lisa
Daily First Line -- 4/19/12
Today's first line is another one a friend gave me. Later today I'll post what I wrote.
Have you got a nice little collection of quicksies started? Any that you want to share yet? In addition to sharing your quicksies, feel free to send me suggestions for first lines. I haven't been writing any quicksies from the first lines I'm giving each day. By the time I come up with the line and post it here, on Facebook, and on Twitter, I've already thought about it for too long. My writing wouldn't be spontaneous.
If anyone sends me a first line, we'll use it AND I'll post what I write from it, exactly as it comes outta my skull.
In the meantime:
Have you got a nice little collection of quicksies started? Any that you want to share yet? In addition to sharing your quicksies, feel free to send me suggestions for first lines. I haven't been writing any quicksies from the first lines I'm giving each day. By the time I come up with the line and post it here, on Facebook, and on Twitter, I've already thought about it for too long. My writing wouldn't be spontaneous.
If anyone sends me a first line, we'll use it AND I'll post what I write from it, exactly as it comes outta my skull.
In the meantime:
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
Monday, April 16, 2012
Writing Tip from Trey Parker
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| Matt Stone and Trey Parker |
One thing I plan to do in this blog is pass along brilliant writing tips I've gathered over the years.
There are a gazillion books and classes about writing, and most say variations on the same theme.
Occasionally, a statement rises above the din and cuts to the heart of the craft.
My favorite of those tips comes from Trey Parker.
He's one of the guys who created South Park, and he still writes every episode himself. Anyone who knows me knows how much I worship his craftsmanship. He's consistently brilliant.
In 2011, Comedy Central aired a behind-the-scenes peek at the show, called 6 Days To Air: The Making of South Park. Each episode goes from concept to broadcast in just six days.
That's about 144 hours.It takes me about 144 hours just to get my desk cleaned off enough so I can write!
In 6 Days To Air, Trey mentions the single most valuable bit of writing advice I've ever heard.
He says most people think of storytelling like this:
This happens, then this happens, then this happens, then this happens, then this happens, then this happens.....
...etc. until the end. He says that's a big mistake. The trick is to think of storytelling this way:
This happens, therefore this happens, therefore this happens. But then this happens. Therefore this happens, therefore this happens, and therefore this happens. But then this happens, therefore this happens.........etc. until the end. See the difference? The first is just a sequence of events. It's a portrait, not a story. The second is a cause-and-effect sequence. That is a story.
I've done script reading for about five years now, and I cannot tell you how many scripts I read whose scenes do not have a causal relationship. There are some lovely vignettes, and when taken as a whole, you know what's going on. But it doesn't convey an emotional journey, for the characters or for the audience.
The human mind doesn't like random events. It struggles to assign meaning (even when none exists, like bunnies in clouds or faces in the moon's topography). It's the storyteller's job to craft a sequence of scenes into a relationship which conveys meaning.
A bunch of events becomes a story because it conveys cause and effect. A situation has a consequence, which evokes an emotional response in someone, which in turn motivates an action, which prompts a reaction by someone else, which in turn has a consequence...... etc. until the end.
Sure, you can do something more free-form. It's absolutely valid in the world of artistic expression. But I'm talking specifically about storytelling. Each scene causes the next one. Each line of dialogue causes the next line. Each action is a reaction to something.
For a great example of cause-and-effect storytelling, check out the episode of South Park called The List. It's flawless.
Love,
Lisa
Daily First Line -- 4/16/12
It just occurred to me that I could've provided themed first lines over the weekend: something tax-related, or maybe something Titanic-related. If the thought had occurred to me, though, I would've dismissed it. The point is to make these first lines specific enough to trigger an image or a situation to write about, yet vague enough not to influence your writing.
What do you all think? Are the lines helping to trigger your creativity? Or do you stare at them and have no idea what to write? I'll experiment with some longer, more specific first lines this week, so you can get a feel for both types.
Meanwhile, today's first line:
What do you all think? Are the lines helping to trigger your creativity? Or do you stare at them and have no idea what to write? I'll experiment with some longer, more specific first lines this week, so you can get a feel for both types.
Meanwhile, today's first line:
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Daily First Line -- 4/15/12
Today's first line has an exclamation point at the end, because I'm an emphatic sort of speaker. But as always, do what you want with it. Make it a period, a comma, three exclamation points, run the words into another few words for a longer sentence.... it's your quicksie. ("Quicksy?" I still haven't figured out what the singular form of "quicksies" should be.)
Love,
Lisa
Love,
Lisa
Saturday, April 14, 2012
Friday, April 13, 2012
Another quicksie
Here's the exercise I did when I got today's first line from a friend. It's another good example of how you can write absolutely anything.
I consider myself a screenwriter first. I love storytelling via prose, but dialogue is what I want to master. So on this exercise, as soon as I realized I was writing an inner monologue, I decided to mix it with actual dialogue, to paint an entire picture. I kinda like how it goes back and forth between inner dialogue and spoken dialogue.
This was another example of me having no idea what to write, so I just repeated the opening line until something came to me. And because I lean into dialogue, I turned it into an inner monologue. When I added a second character, I played with quotation marks and no quotation marks to differentiate the inner from the outer.
I don't recall if I typed the quotation marks or went back later and added them. Don't burden yourself to format as you type. You can format afterwards, as long as you don't edit the text! I wasn't about to type character names and format it like dialogue as I typed. After all, the point is to keep your fingers moving to WRITE, not to format. But if you format things later...... totally fine.
Love,
Lisa
P.S. Oh, and by the way, I wrote this LONG before the "double rainbow" video hit youtube. I may even have written this before youtube existed.
I consider myself a screenwriter first. I love storytelling via prose, but dialogue is what I want to master. So on this exercise, as soon as I realized I was writing an inner monologue, I decided to mix it with actual dialogue, to paint an entire picture. I kinda like how it goes back and forth between inner dialogue and spoken dialogue.
This was another example of me having no idea what to write, so I just repeated the opening line until something came to me. And because I lean into dialogue, I turned it into an inner monologue. When I added a second character, I played with quotation marks and no quotation marks to differentiate the inner from the outer.
I don't recall if I typed the quotation marks or went back later and added them. Don't burden yourself to format as you type. You can format afterwards, as long as you don't edit the text! I wasn't about to type character names and format it like dialogue as I typed. After all, the point is to keep your fingers moving to WRITE, not to format. But if you format things later...... totally fine.
Love,
Lisa
P.S. Oh, and by the way, I wrote this LONG before the "double rainbow" video hit youtube. I may even have written this before youtube existed.
Daily First Line -- 4/13/12
Today's First Line is another one I received ages ago when I began these 10-minute exercises. Later today, I'll post what I wrote back then. I think it's another good example of how you can write something far more awesome when you don't think about it than if you try to write something awesome.
For now, here ya go:
For now, here ya go:
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Daily First Line -- 4/12/12
So, how are your Quicksies coming along? Do you have a regular writing schedule yet? Are you handwriting them or using the computer? How many of you come here to the blog to see the first line, as opposed to checking the Quicksie Facebook or Twitter pages? Any themes evolving in your writing? Are you discovering your "voice"? What form are they taking? Do you find yourself writing dialogue? Prose? Verse? Journal entries?
Remember, whatever turns off your inner critic is what's right for you. The only rule is you must keep your hands moving non-stop for ten minutes. No time for thinking or analyzing!!
And now, on to today's first line:
Remember, whatever turns off your inner critic is what's right for you. The only rule is you must keep your hands moving non-stop for ten minutes. No time for thinking or analyzing!!
And now, on to today's first line:
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
Daily First Line -- 4/10/12
I'm in Toronto! I'll be here on business all month, so I'll try to resist the urge to make every First Line something Canadian-themed. But I won't resist today:
Monday, April 9, 2012
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Daily First Line -- 4/8/12
Happy Easter! Hope you can find 10 minutes today to write a quicksie.
Quicksie? Quicksy? Hmmm... I haven't given any thought to the spelling of the singular form of "quicksies". Which do you prefer? And by "prefer," I mean, which is funnier?
Quicksum?!? (Nah, that sounds like an Excel function.)
You can make today's first line Easter-related or not. I'm curious to see what you come up with.
Love,
Lisa
Quicksie? Quicksy? Hmmm... I haven't given any thought to the spelling of the singular form of "quicksies". Which do you prefer? And by "prefer," I mean, which is funnier?
Quicksum?!? (Nah, that sounds like an Excel function.)
You can make today's first line Easter-related or not. I'm curious to see what you come up with.
Love,
Lisa
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Friday, April 6, 2012
Thursday, April 5, 2012
A Cool Desktop Timer
What kind of timer do you use when writing for ten minutes?
I think it's best to use a timer which has a buzzer or ringer or something in-your-face which lets you know when ten minutes have elapsed. Avoid just glancing at a clock -- it distracts you, and it's very easy to lose track of time.
When I first started doing these 10-minute exercises years ago, I found a timer online to download. It met two of my most important criteria: it was free and it was fun.
Appropriately, it's called Cool Timer. I like it because when the timer goes off, the screen comes to the foreground on your monitor and flashes until you turn it off. You have no choice but to stop typing! Plus, you can customize the colors and sounds and size.
Eventually, I placed the timer to the right of my Word window as I typed, so I could see the seconds ticking away in my peripheral vision. When I got more advanced in the exercises, I wanted to give my exercises a structure. Beginning-middle-end. When the timer hit 5 minutes I knew I needed a midpoint, and when it hit 9 minutes, I knew I had to wrap things up.
But don't give yourself that added challenge if it freaks you out. I just happen to like restrictions -- they make me more creative. I need envelopes to push against. Remember, the whole point of these exercises is to relax, free your creativity, and turn off your inner critic. Use your timer in the way which facilitates that!
Let me know what other desktop times you like out there.
Love,
Lisa
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Daily First Line -- 4/4/12
I've been debating what time of day to post the First Line each day. Any opinions?
Today's line:
Today's line:
One of my Quicksies
With yesterday's First Line, I mentioned I'd post the results of my writing exercise with that line. Here it is. (Click on "Read More".)
When I received that First Line, my first thought was, "That's not a complete sentence. What am I supposed to do with this? It's only two words!" I'm quite literal when given (or giving) directions. The directions said to provide a first line, and I was entitled to an entire sentence, damn it!
A fraction of a millisecond later, I realized there are no rules. I had to ignore that critical voice and, even though my mind was blank, I had to write for ten minutes straight -- the timer was already running.
So I just typed those first two words over and over again until an image started to form. Then I ran with it.
Later, I added the quotation marks to the opening dialogue, but otherwise, this is exactly what spilled out of my head. Entirely fictitious, and something I never would've written if I had tried to write something like this.
So, if you have absolutely no inspiration, type the First Line over and over until something starts to form. Trust your genius.
Love,
Lisa
When I received that First Line, my first thought was, "That's not a complete sentence. What am I supposed to do with this? It's only two words!" I'm quite literal when given (or giving) directions. The directions said to provide a first line, and I was entitled to an entire sentence, damn it!
A fraction of a millisecond later, I realized there are no rules. I had to ignore that critical voice and, even though my mind was blank, I had to write for ten minutes straight -- the timer was already running.
So I just typed those first two words over and over again until an image started to form. Then I ran with it.
Later, I added the quotation marks to the opening dialogue, but otherwise, this is exactly what spilled out of my head. Entirely fictitious, and something I never would've written if I had tried to write something like this.
So, if you have absolutely no inspiration, type the First Line over and over until something starts to form. Trust your genius.
Love,
Lisa
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Daily First Line -- 4/3/12
Years ago, my friend Lisa P. introduced me to this 10-minute writing exercise. The exercises had been around forever in various forms, but she was the first to show me this variation, where someone else gives you the first line of your story.
It was love at first First Line. For quite a while, we exchanged First Lines back and forth. Then, of course, the mundanities of life took over and our exercises faded to the background. We still write together occasionally, but not nearly often enough.
I'm hoping to get her to contribute to this blog (Lisa, are you reading this??) -- as soon as we can find time in our schedules to sit down in the same room together!
In the meantime, here's one of the First Lines she gave me. I'm reusing it today, because later I'll post the result of my ten minutes of typing.
Today's first line isn't a full sentence. Do what you want with it, as long as all the words appear in your first sentence. There are no rules. (....well, other than the rule that you write nonstop for ten minutes).
And yes, "mundanities" is not a real word. Or, rather, it wasn't a real word until now. I just made it up. Feel free to make up words if the perfect one to express your thought doesn't exist yet.
Ready? Set your timer, click the Read More button, and write!
Love,
Lisa
Monday, April 2, 2012
Daily First Line -- 4/2/12
Now remember, the point of this exercise is not to think. Ideally, you start writing the moment you see your first line, so your brain doesn't have time to start coming up with ideas and therefore rejecting them as being not good enough.
That's why I'll always have the line hidden after the Read More break. Get your fingers and your timer ready, then look at the line and start writing!
Love,
Lisa
That's why I'll always have the line hidden after the Read More break. Get your fingers and your timer ready, then look at the line and start writing!
Love,
Lisa
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Daily First Line -- 4/1/12
And here we go! The first of the First Lines I'll suggest. You know what to do:
1. Set your timer for 10 minutes.
2. Click "Read More" to see the First Line.
3. Start timer.
4. Write nonstop until the timer dings!
5. Pat yourself on the back for writing today.
Love,
Lisa
1. Set your timer for 10 minutes.
2. Click "Read More" to see the First Line.
3. Start timer.
4. Write nonstop until the timer dings!
5. Pat yourself on the back for writing today.
Love,
Lisa
It's ScriptFrenzy Month!
It's April 1st! April means one thing to writers: Script Frenzy!
Script Frenzy welcomes writers to write 100 pages of a script in 30 days. It can be any kind of script, from stage to TV to radio to sketches to webisodes and beyond.
Inspired by November's NaNoWriMo -- The National Novel Writing Month -- Script Frenzy appropriated the short month of April to encourage writers to write.
100 pages in 30 days equals just 3-4 pages per day! Anyone can write 3-4 pages a day!
If you think you can't, then you're letting the critical side of your brain edit and sabotage your writing. Turn it off, sit on down, and write!
If you need a nudge to get started, take one of my Daily First Lines and knock off a 10-minute writing exercise each day. Then those 3-4 pages will come spilling out of your noggin.
Remember, writers write!
Love,
Lisa
Script Frenzy welcomes writers to write 100 pages of a script in 30 days. It can be any kind of script, from stage to TV to radio to sketches to webisodes and beyond.
Inspired by November's NaNoWriMo -- The National Novel Writing Month -- Script Frenzy appropriated the short month of April to encourage writers to write.
100 pages in 30 days equals just 3-4 pages per day! Anyone can write 3-4 pages a day!
If you think you can't, then you're letting the critical side of your brain edit and sabotage your writing. Turn it off, sit on down, and write!
If you need a nudge to get started, take one of my Daily First Lines and knock off a 10-minute writing exercise each day. Then those 3-4 pages will come spilling out of your noggin.
Remember, writers write!
Love,
Lisa
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Welcome to QUICKSIES
Welcome! This is a blog based on the classic writer's exercise where you set a timer for 10 minutes and then just write and write and write until the timer goes off.
This exercise is great for writers because it doesn't allow you to analyze what you write while you're writing it.
The Quicksies twist is that I'll give you the first line of your quick story. No more fretting over subjects or topics or opening sentences. No more excuses for not writing!
Let's face it -- for every five words we write, we hate four of them. The ten minute exercise forces us to tap into the creative side of the brain and mute the critical side. There's no editing, no stopping to fix typos, no pausing to think.
I've even done it with my eyes closed, so I can't see what I'm typing!
Whether you use a keyboard or you kick it old-school with a pen and paper, there's only one "rule" for the exercise: your hands must move as fast as they can, nonstop, for ten solid minutes. It's amazing how quickly the time goes, and how brilliant your writing becomes.
You can get your daily First Line any way you want: here on the blog, on Facebook, on Twitter, and once I figure out Blogger's email list capabilities, via email, too!
I'll also report anything and everything which catches my eye about writing and writers. But the important part is the daily First Line. When you get it, use it!
All you have to do is set your timer, look at the first line, start the timer, and type.
Please email me what you write, if you like! Eventually, I plan to add a section to the blog where we can read each other's quicksies. I'd love to see how much variety we can get from using the same opening line.
Writers write. So, write!
Love,
Lisa
This exercise is great for writers because it doesn't allow you to analyze what you write while you're writing it.
The Quicksies twist is that I'll give you the first line of your quick story. No more fretting over subjects or topics or opening sentences. No more excuses for not writing!
Let's face it -- for every five words we write, we hate four of them. The ten minute exercise forces us to tap into the creative side of the brain and mute the critical side. There's no editing, no stopping to fix typos, no pausing to think.
I've even done it with my eyes closed, so I can't see what I'm typing!
Whether you use a keyboard or you kick it old-school with a pen and paper, there's only one "rule" for the exercise: your hands must move as fast as they can, nonstop, for ten solid minutes. It's amazing how quickly the time goes, and how brilliant your writing becomes.
You can get your daily First Line any way you want: here on the blog, on Facebook, on Twitter, and once I figure out Blogger's email list capabilities, via email, too!
I'll also report anything and everything which catches my eye about writing and writers. But the important part is the daily First Line. When you get it, use it!
All you have to do is set your timer, look at the first line, start the timer, and type.
Please email me what you write, if you like! Eventually, I plan to add a section to the blog where we can read each other's quicksies. I'd love to see how much variety we can get from using the same opening line.
Writers write. So, write!
Love,
Lisa
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