Why does it bother you to write?

“Write what you know.”

Interesting tip!

What do you know? Actually, you know a lot more than you think.

If you’re writing fiction, you probably know everything you need to know. What you desperately want to do is start. Writer’s block?

That’s probably what it looks like. But there really is no such thing as “writer’s block”. Everything is a function of perspective.

Does what you write distress you? Do you write a sentence and then rewrite it so that it is “perfect”? How do you know when it’s “perfect”?

A better question is “How do you suspend disbelief while writing”?

For example, when I prepared this piece, his draft was full of little red squiggles all over it. Every line looks like his bleeding red ink. And so it was: I don’t care (as I write) if what I have written is well written. I don’t even care if it doesn’t fit. Those are steps I’ll take when I get to edit it.

My goal for this draft is to write at least 2,500 words in under 2 hours. My goal is to make those 2,500 words in less than an hour. But if I can maintain a typing speed of 1,200 words per hour, I can write a 36,000-word story in just under 30 hours. Typing 2 hours a day, that’s just 15 days of writing!

A novel has about 50,000 words. At 1,200 words per hour, I can write that in just over 40 hours. To write that novel in 30 days, I only have to write less than 2 hours a day!

So what’s stopping me? A story idea? What should I write about? How should I write?

Questions, questions. “Who cares,” I say, “let’s go and do it.”

For example, I like to write action stories, sometimes mystery and sometimes suspense.

But where to start?

Here’s an idea. Last week I took an audio test to determine if I was a candidate for hearing aids (my wife loudly and emphatically says “Yes!”).

Boring stuff, you say? Let’s explore it further. How about this piece of history:

The audition test was going well. Eleanor Brightwater had completed the “When you hear the tone, press the button” part. She was now sitting quietly with her eyes closed as the audiologist intoned,

“Say the word ‘bat’.” “Bat”.

“Say the word, ‘run.’ “Rune”.

“Say the word, ‘I like’.”

There was a pause.

Then he heard in a softer voice, ‘Say the word ‘knife’. ‘Knife.’

“Say the word, ‘murder’.” “Mother”.

“Say the word, ‘kill’.”

His eyes widened. Looking through the bulletproof glass window of the booth, the first thing she saw was the audiologist half slumped out of his chair, an ugly hash on his forehead that extended to a line around his neck, and then a sea ​​of ​​red that had stained his white lab coat.

The second thing he saw was a grinning apparition with pointed teeth, brandishing a butcher knife in one hand and strangling a microphone in the other. He gave a maniacal chuckle, then stuck out his tattooed tongue at her.

Eleanor screamed and ripped the headphones off her head. She stumbled against the cabin door, but she didn’t move, caught by some heavy object outside.

He pounded on the glass until his fists began to bleed.

Sobbing hysterically, she tried to loosen the cockpit-mounted char.

The apparition jumped up and down, repeatedly hitting the audiologist and the desk, laughing like a maniac. He yelled at her and hit the cabin window with the knife.

He knew what he wanted to do to her, but he couldn’t fight it off.

[ now… how would you fill in the next paragraph?]

So far, I have written less than 700 words out of a little over 1200 words total for this article. It took me less than 45 minutes to compose. Another 15 minutes to go back and correct the spelling. I’m not wasting my time, but I’m not at a loss for words either. The words are all there, neatly assembled, packed, and pouring out as if you were reading them off a ticker tape that is unwinding.

And you can do this too.

All you have to do is believe that you can do it.

And practice.

And writes.

And write some more.

But back to ‘How do I start?’

Here are some helpful steps:

Step #1: Take a blank sheet of paper (ruled is fine, as you wish. Using a computer is optional) and a sharp pencil without an eraser.

Step #2: Grab whatever book you have on hand. Open it randomly and select a paragraph.

Step #3: Start copying that paragraph. Write the first 50 words or so.

Step #4: Close the book. Write a sentence that completes the last thought you copied from the book.

Step #6: Keep writing, forgetting about misspellings, grammatical constructions, and other ‘untruths’ that make up what other people think is good prose.

Step #7: Write for at least 1 hour before stopping.

Yes, you have started!

Now you can go back and check the spelling of what you typed. Rate it however you like, or throw it all in the recycle bin. The act of writing is more important than what you wrote.

Now, let’s say you want to go beyond just starting to copy something. Okay, let’s try another story.

Think of your last pleasant vacation. Visualize yourself being there. In your mind’s eye, see the surroundings. Then write a one sentence description of anything you see.

On my last trip to England, I flew into Heathrow and took the express train to Paddington station.

[I continue the thought thusly… ]

When I got off the train, the first thing that caught my eye was a Paddington Bear store. In the window was an oversized statue of Mr. Paddington Bear himself, holding his ubiquitous suitcase.

“Hello Mr. Bear! Where are you going at this hour?” I said.

Paddington Bear turned to me and said in a melodious voice, “I’m going to Australia and New Zealand! I’ve never been there, but I hear it’s a lovely trip.”

“But you are from Patagonia,” I told him. “Did you go back there?”

“No, not since I left, many years ago,” he replied.

“Don’t you send them posts so they know what’s going on and where you are?”

Sadly, Paddington looked down at his brown spectacles. “I can’t write,” said Paddington Bear with a sigh. Then he perked up: “But my author does! I’ll have him send out some posts. He’s good at that sort of thing. And I know my relatives back home are wondering what happened to me. Thanks for the tip!”

Then her shoulders dropped again. “But they can’t read either,” she said as a single tear ran down her furry nose and onto the base of the marble statue.

“How can it be?” I asked. “After all, someone had to write that note around your neck!”

“You’re right,” and perked up. “I bet someone down there can do it! Thanks for the tip.”

With that, Mr. Paddington Bear stepped out of the marble base and disappeared!

So, I ask again: “Future novelist, what’s stopping you?”

Sir, take that pen and write!