There’s a practice called “Speed Writing”, according to which you write as much as you can in a short amount of time; ideally getting into a “flow” of consciousness and turning off the voice of your internal critic in the process.
Harris gives the reader a Speed Writing exercise, where they have to write as much as they can within 10 minutes, non-stop.
As already mentioned, the goal here is to get yourself to write – which is the cornerstone of every writer’s existence.
Sometimes, a writer may feel too stifled or uninspired to bring anything to paper (or equivalent). This is typically caused by his or her internal critic, who is censoring you before you can even spell out one word or thought.
By engaging in Speed Writing, you are forced to write whatever comes to mind; and your internal critic is too overwhelmed by the flow of your writing to be able to get a word in.
Furthermore, it is possible to break through a writer’s block while you are doing the speed writing exercise.
Now you may think: “This is all good and well, but what should I write about? And how?”
You can write about anything that comes to your mind; ideally a scene, or some dialogue, or a character description, but it could truly be anything that intrigues you.
In terms of the best medium, I’d recommend writing on your computer or laptop, because that way you can write as much as possible in a short amount of time. Don’t forget to save it!
After that, you wonder: “Okay, but do you even Speed Write regularly?”
Personally, I find the Speed Writing exercise the most useful when I suffer from a lack of inspiration or writer’s block or simply cannot get myself to write anything.
Other than that, I don’t find it necessary to do Speed Writing regularly; unless you really enjoy the practice, and it increases your desire to keep writing on whatever project you are already working on.
At last, following is what I wrote the first time I ever did the Speed Writing Exercise, and before I ever worked on my first script (on 19th August, 2017):
Why oh why is there a time when music stops and mouths go AH and the redness of the lights encompasses the shadows. There is a glim hope of something else, of knowing what it means to be alive. Humans are sad, sorrowed, with dull skin and wrinkles of solitude around their lips. There is a dim feeling of hopelessness. The light flickers. A woman in a figure hugging dress, Marilyn Monroe-esque, leans to the side. Her dazzling blonde curls swooping across her cheek. The alluring smile of rose red, shimmering lips. A gasp. A sigh. The scene changes. People exchange numbers, or vows, or future desolations. A dragon screams in pain. Lorelei sinks down to her feet, smelling gun powder and death in the air. Her pale skin is illuminating the room, or rather the open field. Grass everywhere, a whisk of glory. A tall, statuesque man with a broad chest and firm shoulders looks down from his high horse, whose body is pulsating with life, sweat drops are dropping downs its flanks. The man swings himself off the horse, and falls down into a pool of despair. The water is enclosing around Henry. It’s a pool side. A model laughs, her pink lips cooled off by the coldness of the water. Another scenery change, the sky turns dark and blue, with white stars twinkling beneath, or beside, or in-between the clouds. Soft and softer. Ryan mutters to himself, the words do not mean anything. Steffen wants to know how to change his life, how to go to the next step, he’s doubting himself, just as much as so many people who want to accomplish something great in this world. How could I change? Myself and others, and the world? If all my past has been the same monotony; or not even monotony, but just lacking success. People have told me I couldn’t accomplish anything great, that I was a failure, that the rejections mean that I must be rejected from the Great Table of those who control, or rather triumph over the others, over the world, who have society’s destiny in their grasp. Donald Trump laughs, shortly, cowardly? Or rather curtly. One sec, the sound is over. Flashing of cameras. iPhones are being held out in front of the faces of the masses, everyone is a walking iPhone, not a human. Where are the feelings? There is only fear in everyone’s heart, there is no deeper reverence, no deeper appeal to humanity. What is humanity anyways? It looks as if it was a quivering mass of fear. Where is love, or joy, or bliss, or community, or honor, or dignity? Everyone follows the one who seems the most fearless. People are drawn to the extreme of their own disposition, in one way or another. The Marilyn Monroe, drawn to both beauty and ugliness, her heart steeped in shadows and loneliness, dying in beauty with a broken heart rendered ugly due to its scars. Michael Jackson, a similar if not completely different fate. Elvis Presley. Marlon Brando, who did die late for his disposition, but his disposition created a thick impenetrable wall between him and others. What for? If not for self protection? Out of self-directed fear? Being physically bigger can give one a feeling of omnipotence, or rather an illusion of such. But inside, it is a scared mouse, eating more and more cheese, without having a conscious mind of its own. Well, perhaps it does have a conscious mind, but it is eaten up by fear and primitive concerns. And so is everyone following primitiveness, and indulging in their primitive nature, without engaging enough in their prefrontal cortex and making the most of what it means to be human.
Have you ever tried Speed Writing before? How did it go?
If not, will you give it a try? If you do, please tell me how it went in the comments. 🙂