I hope you all enjoyed your holidays! I haven’t been writing as much the last couple of months as I would have liked. I got busy trying my hand at some do-it-yourself beauty products and a real food diet. (I am having a blast making my own beauty products!) Needless to say, I’ve taken a bit of a break from writing and reviewing. However, now that the holidays are over, I’m getting back into the swing of things. I have several reviews coming up for some fantastic books!
As far as writing goes, I decided a few days ago to put myself on a schedule to write something everyday. The next day, one of my friends on Facebook posted about a book called, 5000 Words Per Hour by Chris Fox. She was talking about how much she’d written that day by doing five-minute sprints. I figured this was a book I had to check out.
I read through it the first night (it’s a fairly short book), and then tried my hand at a couple of five-minute sprints. I was floored by how many words I was able to write in five minutes. 187 and 178 words! I had already scheduled time the next morning before work to write, so I decided I’d do a couple of five-minute sprints. I didn’t make the word count that I had the night before, but it was still an impressive word count for me. I was averaging closer to 150 words for those sprints. What really struck me about putting the sprints in such short time spans was that I wrote the whole time and it didn’t seem long enough! This is incredible for me. Usually, I sit down to write and stare at the page, no words forthcoming, painstakingly force myself to write a paltry 200-300 words, then dive head first into Facebook to escape writing.
Which sucks. When it’s flowing, I love to write. But when it’s not, I have a hard time making myself sit in front of my laptop trying to force out words for half an hour.
The awesome thing about these five-minute sprints was that I never had to force out the words. I knew I only had to write continuously for five minutes, so I could totally do that. Then the timer would go off mid-sentence, and I’d reset it because I needed another five minutes to finish my thought on the scene. This kept happening until I ran out of time and had to rush to finish getting ready for work.
I doubt that everyday I use this method it will be so easy. However, I think I’m going to stick with the five-minute bursts for a while because it seems I can convince myself to write every morning because it’s only five minutes. There’s a lot more to the book, which I’ve not implemented yet, and I highly recommend checking it out if you’re a writer.
Here’s a little sneak peek at what I’ve been writing (bear in mind this is entirely unedited and subject to change).
Dance of the Unseelie
“So, it’s true, then?” The words were hissed to Morgan’s right.
Morgan didn’t look over. She knew who spoke. Instead, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the warm breeze to lift her hair, thankful for the tears streaking her cheeks even if they were for the wrong reason. At least she looked the part of the grieving widow. In truth, she was a grieving widow. Her grief just wasn’t for her husband dying.
“Devil got your tongue?”
“No, Grandmother. As I’ve told you before, there is no devil.” She regretted the spiteful words as soon as they left her lips, but the old woman always brought out the worst in her. She wiped the wetness from her cheeks with the back of her hand. Swallowing her anger, she said, “Why are you here?”
Her grandmother cackled. “Oh, there most certainly is a devil. You ought to know that first hand.”
Red-hot heat flashed through Morgan’s body, her anger so powerful she became dizzy. No one knew what Ryan was like. No one would have believed it about him.
Before she could pull herself together, her grandmother continued. “First your mother, and now your husband. You should have been drowned at birth like I suggested. I knew what you would be. It was written in the stars. And in your father’s soul. Or lack thereof.”
Morgan lifted her head to gaze out over the sun-drenched gravestones. Arguing with the bitter woman would be useless.
It would also be a lie.
©2015 S.M. Lowry