“I want to write to test forms and to break them. I want to write toward my obsessions. I want to write toward fun, and toward compression. I want to know, and I want to experiment . . .”—“What is Your Ambition? The Reasons to Write,” by Beth Kephart, The Brevity Blog, January 2, 2025
Note from Marlene: Choose a prompt and Just Write!
“In personal essay, memoir and creative nonfiction, we want to bring to our pages a sense of verisimilitude, of intruding upon someone else’s circumstances, of grasping someone else’s fleeting take on the world.”
How to do this?
Gilsdorf suggests:
“The language of cinematography is a useful analogy: in a wide or medium shot, the viewer is distant from the subject; in close-ups and extreme close-ups, the frame of reference is tight.
In writing, this means: rather than quickly cutting away, or keeping the viewer far removed, like a drone hovering high above, we can zoom in on the subject of our attention, or pan across it, slowly.
We can train our writerly efforts to pause. To not skip over— but to linger, loiter, dawdle, stay put, wait.”
Zarien Hsu Gee offers “fast drafting” as a creative process:
Fast drafting is a way to break through creative paralysis, to see what might be possible with an idea or writing project. When you commit to writing fast without judgment, you bypass the inner critic that can slow your progress to a crawl or even prevent you from moving forward at all.
The beauty of fast drafting lies in its imperfection. By calling it a “fast draft,” you free yourself from the expectation of perfectionism. You accept fast drafting as a necessary creative process in order to move forward with your work, and your expectations for its literary genius is low. Your goal is just to get it all down.
The fast draft also serves as confidence booster. It reminds you that you can write this story, this novel, this memoir.
When you write fast enough to outrun judgment, your creativity has a chance to show you what’s possible.
Fast drafting is giving yourself permission to create freely. Speed helps you outrun your inner critic long enough so you can see what you’re capable of creating. It is an essential step towards creating something meaningful.
Darien Hsu Gee is the author of five novels published by Penguin Random House that have been translated into eleven languages. Her collection of micro memoirs, Allegiance, about growing up Chinese American, won the 2012 bronze IPPY award for essays. Darien received a 2015 Hawai’i Book Publishers’ Ka Palapala Po’okela Award of Excellence for Writing the Hawai’i Memoir. Join Darien at writerish.substack.com where she offers free guided 10-minute writing sessions.
“My science teacher uses a ruler and twine to mark a square-foot box in the damp blanket of leaves covering the ‘outdoor classroom.’ My task today is to observe this small patch. Part of a log has fallen within the boundaries, and I note the moss that grows on it and the bugs that seek shelter under its flaking bark. We return once a month to note how this woodland square changes with the seasons and maybe even write a poem.
I do not remember completing this assignment, but I recall the crisp smell of forest floor, the slip of mud beneath my shoes, and the surprise of a roly-poly beneath the log.”
Can you see this scene? The ruler, the twine, the square-foot box, the damp blanket of leaves. Maybe you know that smell of damp leaves, of a crisp forest smell, of mud.
Notice how sensory detail bring this scene from the page into you sensory awareness, into your memory bank.
More on sensory detail in writing on The Write Spot Blog: