OK, writers, I'm trying something new here, let me know if it helps or not.
I usually don't write with you during the LWS because I'm keeping time and trying to not jiggle my desk so the monitor doesn't shake, but yesterday I decided to write with you about 2 minutes in. This is what I wrote (by hand). I typed it up today, then did two simple revision passes. I knew after I re-read the first version where I wanted to go, so I turned the lens there (smoking) but I could have gone down the aging or weight or even peanut butter angle. I liked the title for the first two versions but for the third, I'm not sure, but I'll leave it in place for now as a working title. My word count dwindled with each pass. I've also left typos in so you can see how imperfect a draft can be and how you will catch it eventually. My mind was all over the place with version 1, but ... it doesn't matter! We write where we are, with whatever we have. We do what we can and trust what shows up. Notice, too, how what I ended up writing about appeared at the end of my piece (first draft), which is another reason to keep writing even if you feel like giving up or think you may be done before the timer goes off.
Weight
Catching my breath. Today I’m feeling shaky and a little out of sorts. I’m wanting very much to be grounded but—the shakes! I ate peanut butter! I took two CBD! I am drinking decaf. I have done 20 other live writing sessions before and have never had this issue.
I am thinking about aging. I do not want to admit it can happen to me. That my own longevity will look anything like the other folks out there, Winona at 86, who clocks 2+ miles a day which I don’t even do in a week. She has slowed down since I saw her last. And Tom, flat on his back and sick after applying epoxy to a mosaic project without a mask. He’d done it before without a problem. It’s only not a problem until it is.
So here I am, a little less shaky—the peanut butter must be hitting my blood stream.
I’m not sure about the shakes but I love peanut butter. It’s such a disappointment that it’s 190 calories for two tablespoons which is really nothing. I need to lose weight. But I love bread, I have given up candy but it doesn’t seem like enough.
My lungs, my lungs. I would kill for a cigarette, just one more time, but that ship has sailed. I don’t like the smell on my fingers and clothes, all the smoke in and out of my lungs. I remember the day I quit stealing a smoke—I was on the side porch of our big home in Waimea, where I kept a pack of Parliaments and a lighter in a flower pot. I remember that great exhale, and this cloud of smoke, bigger than my own body, just suspended in the air in front of me, its own corporeal self. That so much smoke came from me. Mortified and mesmerized, I quit that day. (316 words)
Weight v2
I would kill for a cigarette, just one more time, but that ship has sailed. I don’t like the smell on my fingers and clothes, all that smoke moving in and out of my lungs. I remember the day I was on the side porch of our big home in Waimea, where I kept a pack of Parliaments and a lighter in a flower pot. It was tucked away from the wind and rain, a still, quiet spot. I had given up smoking years ago, but it was a kind of security blanket to know that if I could smoke, I had a pack at the ready. I’m sure it has something to do with being single and independent and creative and whatever other myth I was telling myself back then. Darrin didn’t know about the hidden cigarettes, and neither did the kids. I somehow thought I was doing better by choosing Parliaments with their recessed filter over my old Camel Lights. Anyway, no one was home and I wanted a smoke. I remember that first satisfying inhale, then the slow, luxurious exhale—the nicotine hit was instant. But the smoke didn’t dissipate, didn’t its blow away. It lingered and formed a cloud, bigger than my own seated body, suspended in front of me, its own corporeal self. I was mortified and mesmerized to think all that smoke had come from me. Then a breeze passed through the garden and it was gone. I quit that day. (247 words)
Weight v3
I would kill for a cigarette, just one more time, but that ship has sailed. I remember the day I was on the side porch of our big home in Waimea, where I kept a pack of Parliaments and a lighter in a flower pot. I was forty-something then, and I had given up smoking in my twenties. Still, I liked knowing I could smoke anytime I wanted to, that there was always a pack and flame at the ready.
Darrin didn’t know about my hidden stash, and neither did the kids. No one was home that day and I wanted a smoke. I remember thinking I deserved a smoke. Who knows what my reasons were. That first satisfying inhale, then the slow, luxurious exhale—the nicotine went straight to work. But then the smoke didn’t dissipate, didn’t blow away. It lingered and formed a cloud, bigger than my own seated body, became its own corporeal self. To think all that smoke had come from me. Then a breeze passed through and it was gone. I quit for good that day. (180 words)
Is it finished? Polished? Enough? You decide. I know how I feel about it, which is that I got to where I wanted to go with this piece (ie, I reached "a peace" and sense of completion, at least for now) and I am fine to add it to my Binder and move on with my day. The last line, which had worked for the first two drafts, doesn't feel as solid for the third draft; I could remove it altogether. If I wanted to make it clear I had quit then, I could add it up towards the beginning, but at this point I'm overthinking and know I'm at a good stopping point. In the end, how you feel about your work is what matters most, and I hope the time you spend with me here on Writer-ish will help you strengthen your creative confidence.
Thank you so much! This is so helpful. I really appreciate that you shared your process. I imagine that that could feel vulnerable so I especially want to thank you for that.
I really like the lighter in the flower pot as a stand-in for always being able to go back to smoking if you wanted. That really works for me. I can feel that image and my mind fills in details (the dirt against the smooth plastic of the lighter, for example) That one image has a lot of emotion weight to smokers and ex-smokers. It's making me consider how to write with fewer words but more potency.
Also, I love all the versions, each for different reasons. The imagine if your smoky, corporeal self suspended in front of you is an interesting image for me. I may use that for my own prompt!
Thank you for sharing that, Darien! So generous and instructive to let us see your process.
I enjoyed the session. I ended up using the time to continue something I had started a little earlier & gotten stuck with. The lungs prompt took it in a surprising new direction.
So glad it's helpful, Linda. I think that writers worry that their first drafts are supposed to be really clean and perfect and this is a great example of, uh, no, not at all!
Darien, thanks for writing with us and admitting you had the shakes. And for sharing v1. And v2. And v3. Reading your thoughts about the piece(s) was an interesting glimpse into your thought process. I get worked up before a LWS because I struggle with prompts. I’m too rigid and hope to massage that out of my thoughts with the LWS and three-week writing adventures. Paint chips! Chips ahoy?
First drafts are real life and I’d rather you see it from the beginning than only the final piece (which isn’t final, I would probably do a few more passes and dig a bit deeper, but not now. For now I am fine with v3). It’s such a journey, even in only a couple of passes. So glad you keep showing up, dc!
This just shows me a calendar and when the session is occurring. I still don't see how to sign up. My name is Judith Hannah Weiss and it would be great if you could sign me up. I published on sub stack at "dispatch from bewilderness" and would love it if you would take a look at that sometime.
Yes. You click on the date for the event and then it will take you to the booking page. Don’t worry about it, I signed you up, you should receive an email with the Zoom link, which is unique to you. Let me know if you have not received it. See you on Thursday!
If you’re still having trouble, I can register you with your email address, which I have in my subscriber list. The link should be working though, because we’re getting sign ups all the time. Let me know if it would help to register you?
Thank you for this live writing session. I had a stressful day and I had not done any writing. This was just what I needed. Typed and printed this am, in the binder, and I feel better already. I really love how much you do for us!
That is so inspiring, Cindy! I'm glad you're doing the Binder System, it really helps!
Feel free to share a photo anytime of your binder (in our chat since we now know we can't post images in the comments, annoyingly!). Link to chat here 🤸🏻♀️→ https://substack.com/chat/1224396
I’ve added another section: Miscellaneous Prompts That I Do All the Time. And I’m thinking about a WIP section for pieces I’m trying to get together for submission. It brings out all let’s go to Staples and get school supplies kid in me. 🤓
Thank you. I loved the prompt. Titled my piece What I wish I had know about Lungs. I couldn't figure out how to use the note funtion. But... here is my comment.
Thank you for your generosity on your Substack! I’m enjoying the 10 min micro sessions - I’m so crazy busy with other work & life things that it’s the only personal writing I’m getting in right now, and grateful to have your prompts to keep me going. Appreciate your thoughts on Notes, too!
Thank you for your kind note, Robin! I love that micro and the 10-minute framework help to keep you writing. And when you have a chance to breathe, you'll have a small body of work to consider!
OK, writers, I'm trying something new here, let me know if it helps or not.
I usually don't write with you during the LWS because I'm keeping time and trying to not jiggle my desk so the monitor doesn't shake, but yesterday I decided to write with you about 2 minutes in. This is what I wrote (by hand). I typed it up today, then did two simple revision passes. I knew after I re-read the first version where I wanted to go, so I turned the lens there (smoking) but I could have gone down the aging or weight or even peanut butter angle. I liked the title for the first two versions but for the third, I'm not sure, but I'll leave it in place for now as a working title. My word count dwindled with each pass. I've also left typos in so you can see how imperfect a draft can be and how you will catch it eventually. My mind was all over the place with version 1, but ... it doesn't matter! We write where we are, with whatever we have. We do what we can and trust what shows up. Notice, too, how what I ended up writing about appeared at the end of my piece (first draft), which is another reason to keep writing even if you feel like giving up or think you may be done before the timer goes off.
Weight
Catching my breath. Today I’m feeling shaky and a little out of sorts. I’m wanting very much to be grounded but—the shakes! I ate peanut butter! I took two CBD! I am drinking decaf. I have done 20 other live writing sessions before and have never had this issue.
I am thinking about aging. I do not want to admit it can happen to me. That my own longevity will look anything like the other folks out there, Winona at 86, who clocks 2+ miles a day which I don’t even do in a week. She has slowed down since I saw her last. And Tom, flat on his back and sick after applying epoxy to a mosaic project without a mask. He’d done it before without a problem. It’s only not a problem until it is.
So here I am, a little less shaky—the peanut butter must be hitting my blood stream.
I’m not sure about the shakes but I love peanut butter. It’s such a disappointment that it’s 190 calories for two tablespoons which is really nothing. I need to lose weight. But I love bread, I have given up candy but it doesn’t seem like enough.
My lungs, my lungs. I would kill for a cigarette, just one more time, but that ship has sailed. I don’t like the smell on my fingers and clothes, all the smoke in and out of my lungs. I remember the day I quit stealing a smoke—I was on the side porch of our big home in Waimea, where I kept a pack of Parliaments and a lighter in a flower pot. I remember that great exhale, and this cloud of smoke, bigger than my own body, just suspended in the air in front of me, its own corporeal self. That so much smoke came from me. Mortified and mesmerized, I quit that day. (316 words)
Weight v2
I would kill for a cigarette, just one more time, but that ship has sailed. I don’t like the smell on my fingers and clothes, all that smoke moving in and out of my lungs. I remember the day I was on the side porch of our big home in Waimea, where I kept a pack of Parliaments and a lighter in a flower pot. It was tucked away from the wind and rain, a still, quiet spot. I had given up smoking years ago, but it was a kind of security blanket to know that if I could smoke, I had a pack at the ready. I’m sure it has something to do with being single and independent and creative and whatever other myth I was telling myself back then. Darrin didn’t know about the hidden cigarettes, and neither did the kids. I somehow thought I was doing better by choosing Parliaments with their recessed filter over my old Camel Lights. Anyway, no one was home and I wanted a smoke. I remember that first satisfying inhale, then the slow, luxurious exhale—the nicotine hit was instant. But the smoke didn’t dissipate, didn’t its blow away. It lingered and formed a cloud, bigger than my own seated body, suspended in front of me, its own corporeal self. I was mortified and mesmerized to think all that smoke had come from me. Then a breeze passed through the garden and it was gone. I quit that day. (247 words)
Weight v3
I would kill for a cigarette, just one more time, but that ship has sailed. I remember the day I was on the side porch of our big home in Waimea, where I kept a pack of Parliaments and a lighter in a flower pot. I was forty-something then, and I had given up smoking in my twenties. Still, I liked knowing I could smoke anytime I wanted to, that there was always a pack and flame at the ready.
Darrin didn’t know about my hidden stash, and neither did the kids. No one was home that day and I wanted a smoke. I remember thinking I deserved a smoke. Who knows what my reasons were. That first satisfying inhale, then the slow, luxurious exhale—the nicotine went straight to work. But then the smoke didn’t dissipate, didn’t blow away. It lingered and formed a cloud, bigger than my own seated body, became its own corporeal self. To think all that smoke had come from me. Then a breeze passed through and it was gone. I quit for good that day. (180 words)
Is it finished? Polished? Enough? You decide. I know how I feel about it, which is that I got to where I wanted to go with this piece (ie, I reached "a peace" and sense of completion, at least for now) and I am fine to add it to my Binder and move on with my day. The last line, which had worked for the first two drafts, doesn't feel as solid for the third draft; I could remove it altogether. If I wanted to make it clear I had quit then, I could add it up towards the beginning, but at this point I'm overthinking and know I'm at a good stopping point. In the end, how you feel about your work is what matters most, and I hope the time you spend with me here on Writer-ish will help you strengthen your creative confidence.
Thank you so much! This is so helpful. I really appreciate that you shared your process. I imagine that that could feel vulnerable so I especially want to thank you for that.
I really like the lighter in the flower pot as a stand-in for always being able to go back to smoking if you wanted. That really works for me. I can feel that image and my mind fills in details (the dirt against the smooth plastic of the lighter, for example) That one image has a lot of emotion weight to smokers and ex-smokers. It's making me consider how to write with fewer words but more potency.
Also, I love all the versions, each for different reasons. The imagine if your smoky, corporeal self suspended in front of you is an interesting image for me. I may use that for my own prompt!
Thank you again! So helpful.
You’re welcome, Julia!
Thank you for sharing that, Darien! So generous and instructive to let us see your process.
I enjoyed the session. I ended up using the time to continue something I had started a little earlier & gotten stuck with. The lungs prompt took it in a surprising new direction.
Love how you made the time work for you, Sal! And so glad you arrived at a new place in your essay.
Twas fiction!
What a wonderful example of the evolution of a piece, particularly from v1 to v2.
So helpful for me, Darien, to know I can really “wander” in my micro writing and not feel the self imposition of needing to stay on topic.
So glad it's helpful, Linda. I think that writers worry that their first drafts are supposed to be really clean and perfect and this is a great example of, uh, no, not at all!
BTW, I stopped smoking on March 10, 1980. For decades, I gave myself a little 🎁; now I just acknowledge it to myself and 😊 .
It all works! I’ll have Grant Faulkner doing a “Three Things” Live with me in August so he’s the micro fiction pro, too!
Darien, thanks for writing with us and admitting you had the shakes. And for sharing v1. And v2. And v3. Reading your thoughts about the piece(s) was an interesting glimpse into your thought process. I get worked up before a LWS because I struggle with prompts. I’m too rigid and hope to massage that out of my thoughts with the LWS and three-week writing adventures. Paint chips! Chips ahoy?
…your opening line is a killer!
Thank you, dc!
First drafts are real life and I’d rather you see it from the beginning than only the final piece (which isn’t final, I would probably do a few more passes and dig a bit deeper, but not now. For now I am fine with v3). It’s such a journey, even in only a couple of passes. So glad you keep showing up, dc!
I don't understand how to sign up for the session with yourself and Abby. Would you please explain how to do that as it isn't clear to me.
Abby doesn't have mobile so we can't do Substack Live. It is a Zoom. Here is the sign-up: https://koalendar.com/e/three-things-abigail-thomas-and-darien-gee
This just shows me a calendar and when the session is occurring. I still don't see how to sign up. My name is Judith Hannah Weiss and it would be great if you could sign me up. I published on sub stack at "dispatch from bewilderness" and would love it if you would take a look at that sometime.
All best,
Judith Hannah Weiss
Yes. You click on the date for the event and then it will take you to the booking page. Don’t worry about it, I signed you up, you should receive an email with the Zoom link, which is unique to you. Let me know if you have not received it. See you on Thursday!
If you’re still having trouble, I can register you with your email address, which I have in my subscriber list. The link should be working though, because we’re getting sign ups all the time. Let me know if it would help to register you?
Thank you for this live writing session. I had a stressful day and I had not done any writing. This was just what I needed. Typed and printed this am, in the binder, and I feel better already. I really love how much you do for us!
That is so inspiring, Cindy! I'm glad you're doing the Binder System, it really helps!
Feel free to share a photo anytime of your binder (in our chat since we now know we can't post images in the comments, annoyingly!). Link to chat here 🤸🏻♀️→ https://substack.com/chat/1224396
I’ve added another section: Miscellaneous Prompts That I Do All the Time. And I’m thinking about a WIP section for pieces I’m trying to get together for submission. It brings out all let’s go to Staples and get school supplies kid in me. 🤓
Thank you. I loved the prompt. Titled my piece What I wish I had know about Lungs. I couldn't figure out how to use the note funtion. But... here is my comment.
This is perfect, Charlotte! Thank you for sharing your title. 💗
Thank you for your generosity on your Substack! I’m enjoying the 10 min micro sessions - I’m so crazy busy with other work & life things that it’s the only personal writing I’m getting in right now, and grateful to have your prompts to keep me going. Appreciate your thoughts on Notes, too!
Thank you for your kind note, Robin! I love that micro and the 10-minute framework help to keep you writing. And when you have a chance to breathe, you'll have a small body of work to consider!