I tried something this week that I haven’t done since probably high school. I set myself the goal of doing ten minutes of free writing a day. This sounds a lot easier than it is in practice when you factor in how attached I am to my habit of mindlessly scrolling through social media as a form of anxiety coping/disassociation. Nor if you consider how much of my spare time is spent outside with my cats on leashes and the fact that they can barely go a minute or more without needing help getting untangled.

But I remember spending nearly all of my free time in high school free writing in some form (whether formally or informally), and I also remember how much easier it seemed to be to come up with new ideas back then.

Of course, I had some trepidations going in. I worried that since I’m already struggling to find the energy and motivation to work on editing my latest manuscript, that free writing would only zap this well further. I also worried that I would just outright fail and it would make me feel worse about my writing over all.

What I ended up focusing on was a creative writing class I took in high school, where we started most classes with 10 minutes of free writing. Because I remember that being the first time I actually formally sat down to free write, and I remember being very “in my head” about it the first couple of times. So I figured that was likely what I would encounter this time as well. Knowing that I’d done this before and overcome the initial overthinking and mental block made me feel a lot better about starting over now.

Now, a week into the new efforts, I wanted to talk about what I’ve found so far. What has gone well, and what I’ve struggled with. And some insights I discovered about my current headspace that I wasn’t entirely expecting.

1. Picking it up after all this time wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.

For all that, I was worried I would attempt this and hit an immediate, impassable block. I worried that I’d “lost my spark” (we’re return to that sentiment in a bit). But while the first attempt was difficult and I was much more aware of the passage of time, I forced myself to get through, and the next attempt was much easier. By the third attempt, I didn’t even set the timer anymore. I just sat down and started writing, and the first time I checked the clock, it had been 20 minutes.

This was definitely not what I was expecting. Or at least, I never thought it would come back to me so quickly. And to be fair, it’s not like any of this so far has generated any immediate creative content that can go into a new novel, character, or scene. But I wasn’t going into this thinking it would generate new content. I’m just trying to offload some of the thoughts in my head and give myself the mental room to be more creative.

As it turns out, I had A LOT more to get out of my head than I originally realized.

2. I should really find a better time than when I’m sitting outside, even if that’s the best time for me mentally.

The time I decided to do my free write each day was when I take my cats outside and tend to the garden. They always want more time outside, and tending the garden doesn’t take more than five minutes at this time of year, so I figured I’d fill some extra time with this. Plus, when I’m outside and it’s nice out and things are relatively quiet is when I feel at my most creative.

Unfortunately, as I mentioned above, this time is a lot less “open” than I realized. When I chose this time, I chose it because it’s a time of day when my mind is untaxed. Usually, I’m a little bored. And anyone else out there with ADHD knows that if you’re bored, you’re much more likely to find something to do that’s really just disassociating to make the time pass. Boredom is ADHDer kryptonite.

When I thought about it. it like that, it seemed like the perfect time. All I was doing was scrolling on my phone, after all. What better time to fill with writing and introspection?

What I didn’t factor in was how distracting this time is. Every minute or so, I need to get up and untangle one or both of the cats because they just don’t get the concept of going around obstacles instead of through. Or the number of times one of them attempts to sprint after a squirrel or attacks a wasp and gets themself hurt. Or just the number of times my concentration is broken by a gnat flying up my nose.

And then each time my concentration is broken, I have to start over again from zero trying to get into the “zone.” This means I’ve needed to start looking at other times to do this writing time. Like the time right after work when I watch videos or TV shows and just turn my brain off. This in and of itself will be a project since this, again, is a coping mechanism after social overstimulation throughout the day.

3. I found myself quickly looking forward to this 10 minute reprieve and easily surpassing the minimum time set.

Here’s the really interesting thing about this experiment. Even despite the major concentration struggles above, by day two, I was looking forward to this writing time. And by day three, I couldn’t even be bothered to properly set myself up before beginning. I just grabbed my iPad and started writing (GoodNotes journals for the win!).

I was most surprised by how quickly this change developed. Most of the time, when I want to change my own habits and schedule, it means fighting my mind to do so. Sloughing through for weeks to develop a new habit before it can become anything like “fun” for me. But this time, I’m actually late in putting this blog post together, because I spent that time free writing.

That is decidedly not how it usually works. But it tells me quite clearly that this is something I’ve been missing in my life for a while, and the need is obviously there. So, while it’s too early yet to say if this will help me with my creative slump, it’s definitely something I’m going to continue. Because the benefits are apparent.

4. I’m harboring a lot more anxiety about my writing and my identity as a writer than I realized.

Now the hard bit. The actual content of what I’m writing.

For anyone out there who has never done any free writing before, the best way to start is to just stream of consciousness ( I can use that. as a verb, right?) onto a page. Literally, whatever comes into your head, write it on the page. Even if all you’re writing about is how you can’t think of anything to write about. That was the topic of many of my free writings back in high school, and composed at least 3/4 of my first attempt this week. The point is to not overthink it.

So when you first start free writing, there’s usually a trend to how it works. First, you write about how you can’t think of anything to write. It’s painful, and you hate it and that pushes you into more introspective thoughts about your writing and the process and maybe even how you feel about yourself. That’s when free writing turns into something like a journal. Sometimes it stays that way forever. Because, of course, the best way to free write is. to start with what’s on your mind that day or that week or that year.

But the really valuable part of these journal-like entries is that eventually, your brain will start turning toward the creative as a way to explore these thoughts and feelings. Maybe instead of complaining about a coworker who annoys you for the tenth time, you write a poem satirizing all of their worst qualities. Or maybe, you write out a hypothetical rant in which you say to their face everything you’ve ever thought about them. And then you start to imagine a life where you say everything you think. And then you create a character who does that. The next thing you know, you’ve written the script for Office Space.

At least, I feel like that’s probably how that movie was written.

But I digress. We’re here to talk about what I found when I started free writing.

I knew when I started out that I wasn’t feeling great about my writing or my journey as a writer. Especially since this made me think a lot about high school me and where I thought I would be at this age. But what I uncovered was a whole lot of insecurity and imposter syndrome. It made me realize that part of why I’m struggling so much with writing lately is because I feel like I’m never going to be good enough to be published or to make any money off of writing.

When I was a teenager, in my daydreams, I would at least have a book published by this point in my life. I knew even then that most writers have day jobs because it doesn’t pay enough to survive, but I’d thought I’d have something to at least supplement my income.

I found myself free writing about other authors that I admire, that I’ve interacted with on social media, even my own friends. who are writers, comparing myself to them and finding all the ways I come up short. I posed statistics to myself about the likelihood of succeeding and wondered how to know when it’s time to just give up.

And let me tell you, that last bit was the most unnerving. Because writing isn’t something I’ve ever thought about “giving up” before. It’s core to who I am as a person and the way that I interact with the world. I’ve always said I’m a writer, even if I never get published. Because it’s not about publishing. It’s about the love of the craft and storytelling. But once I started letting everything out on paper, I realized that this is something I’ve been worried about for a while.

I see other adults just living their lives without all of these aspirations, without this constant goal looming out in front of them. I see them simply enjoying the now to whatever extent they can instead of focusing on investing in something that might never happen. And I’ve been worried that maybe I’m being naive and it’s time to throw in the towel.

Of course, logically I know that there isn’t a time to throw in the towel when it comes to art. We art for art’s sake, because it feeds our souls. And even if no one ever wants to read my work, I need to keep writing because it’s an essential part of who I am.

But this free writing experiment has shown me that telling myself the logical answer isn’t enough. I can’t just tell myself that these feelings don’t matter. That doesn’t make them go away. I need to actually deal with them and sit with the idea that there is a chance I’ll never be commercially successful with my writing, and what does that mean to me?

I’m going to keep free writing through it and see where these thoughts take me. No more squashing them down under dismissive logic. It’s time to face them head on.