I got an email the other day from a writing community that was holding a live 1-hour writing event. It seems like an odd thing for me to sign up for because:
I have a daily writing routine (you can read more about it here).
I go live on Substack twice a week for virtual group writing (which is open to everyone…. but especially you).
Why would I add another virtual writing group to my week when clearly I have a plan(ish) of how to get my work done?
These were the questions I asked myself as the calendar invite moved closer and closer to the current time. Did I really need this? Wouldn’t I spend my time more wisely if I just wrote for myself instead of adding in the perfunctory, “Hi! I’m Jill. I’m a memoirist and contemporary romance writer in Tampa Bay and my favorite thing about summer is sitting under my banana plants”?
But curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to see what it was like to be a participant in a writing group and not just the host.
The group started with what I expected: The agenda for the hour, a lengthy round of intros with everyone on the call, and some writing prompts that made the inner non-compliant child in me scream, “You’re not the boss of me and what I have to write!”
But also, they left the writing open. If we didn’t want to follow the prompts, we didn’t have to. I, like a few other ghostwriters in the group, touted my latest project and said I’d be working on that. When the host said she was going to set a timer for 10-minutes of writing, my dream of making a dent in my ghostwriting project flew right out the window. Ten minutes wouldn’t even be enough time to 1) remember where I left off in the manuscript and 2) tap into the voice and energy of the person I was writing for.
This called for a quick game-time decision to shake things up.
What came to my mind instead like a divine download from my heavenly to-do list? An outline I’ve needed to write for a spiritual writing course a dear friend of mine and I talked about hosting in October of this year. October feels like years away to my time-blind mind and so I couldn’t make myself sit down and write the things I wanted to teach in that course.
But, could I do it in 10 minutes? I sure as heck could.
Even I was astonished at the speed in which the ideas that had been swirling in my head for weeks flowed through to my fingertips and onto my computer screen. By the time 10 minutes was up, I had an entire 90-minute course blocked out.
What in the world just happened?!
There was something about being in that writing group, knowing I had a time limit to create that sent my previously scrambled-egg thoughts into laser-focused precision. Had they given me an hour, or two hours, or four hours, I would have likely dove into a larger and more intense writing project.
It was interesting for me to learn, however, than even dedicating a quick 10-minutes to writing with others could produce a result on something that I’ve been trying to force myself to work on for weeks.
There are a few reasons why I think it worked so well for me:
The time amount was still a doable amount of time. I wasn’t being asked to give up half a day. I thought I was giving up an hour to write. While I would have expected that only giving me 10 minutes to write would freeze me in my tracks, it actually turned on the turbo-jets of creativity.
It was open-ended. Yes, there was a prompt, which many people chose to write to. I loved that I had the freedom to let creativity happen to me in whichever way it wanted to. Did I write what I planned to do that day? No. Did I write something that needed to get done and kept procrastinating on? Totes.
I was held accountable. I knew at the end they’d likely ask people to share how it went, what they wrote, or how many words they got on the page. There is always a piece of me that wants to be the kid that’s prepared for class. So, I wrote because there was an outcome that had some sort of stake to it… even if only to have something to cross off my Taa-Daa List (which is exponentially more fun than a To Do List).
There is something about the creative energy of writers all pulling together. Stuff gets done, and often at a faster pace than we anticipate. Maybe it’s because we knew there was a chance we’d be able to comment at the end with details of whatever we completed. We all seemed like we wanted to do better because we were in the company of our people.
I’ve already seen the tremendous benefit that having my twice-weekly coworking sessions on Substack has on my ability to complete my work. It is the routine and accountability that I craved, but could rarely create alone as a solopreneur writer.
During these live sessions I often write a bonkers number of words, like 1,400 in 45 minutes, far exceeding my usual writing pace. Attendees have noted the same—that this writing time seems to fly by and has helped make significant progress in their own book or book proposal goals.
I can absolutely see myself joining other people’s groups as well. There is a different energy and focus in each of these offerings. I’d like to see what it feels like to join a virtual writing group’s 1-hour or 2-hour session, without having the pressure of the camera being on me the whole time. And while I won’t be making 10-minute sprints a regular occurrence on my calendar, they serve as a good reminder that we don’t always need a large block of time to make things happen.
At the end of the day, having accountability and community to support our writing matters. There are many ways to go about it, but simple in-person and online writing groups are a great place to start.
Need one to join? I’m here almost every Monday and Wednesday from 9:00-10:00am EST on Substack. It’s always free and you never need to RSVP. Bonus points: you’ll never be on camera, so come as you are… bedhead and all!
Let’s tell brave stories together.
NEXT COWRITING LIVE: MONDAY, AUGUST 31. Join us HERE
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