What Can You Write In Twenty Five Minutes?

Let’s see.

Photo by Quinton Coetzee on Unsplash

You could write a story. A story about a man who is a musician, and he keeps his fingernails long so his hands are like claws, and when he plays his instrument he closes his eyes and moves with the music.

You could write a poem. A poem about the sea, always a poem about the sea. The waters vast and waves melodic and the color is always changing, in conversation with the light.

You could write a list.

1. This is the first item.
2. The second item is easier because now you have a precedent.
3. Three items is a solid number, this could be enough.

You could write about Enough. A contemplation on the feeling of Being enough and feeling not-enough, a passage on the relativity and subjectivity of ‘enough,’ and

You could decide that it is enough.

The time could still be going on the clock (sixteen more minutes, it says on the timer), and maybe that’s it, enough for the night.

Or.

Word by word

You keep going

[ ]

you pause.

and

you return to the question, to your anchor for this practice.

What can you write in twenty five minutes?

You can describe the things you see in the room. You can write it with broad strokes and in detail, there is no wrong way. You are in your living room and the lights are soft and warm, warm lighting, this is important (and now you are moving into commentary). Stay with the descriptions. The pine cone on the bookshelf, next to a turquoise vase with dried out flowers and eucalyptus. The blue-framed picture of the little prince alone on his planet. The pink glow from the himalayan salt lamp. The wooden table and wooden staircase and the wooden slabs of the ceiling above.

You can describe how you feel. Your nose is congested and you feel weak, it’s the beginning of a cold, you know this in your mind, but your body doesn’t care what label you put on it, your body feels sick and tired and blah, and you’re learning to allow that to be the case without judgment or guilt.

You’re learning how to live with less judgement and guilt. It’s a learning.

You’re learning to write, just write, just do it, whatever ‘it’ is, without judgement and shame. You’re learning to give yourself permission to practice. You’re learning to write sentences that use the word ‘permission,’ and ‘practice,’ and in the past you would have judged this, you have many judgments but

and

there is one minute left, you did it. You set the timer, you sat with your computer. You showed up. You wrote.

… And this is what Iwrote (in twenty five minutes).