Tag: writingblog

A Writer’s Morning Routine to get Writing Done

~ Brooke F. ~ 1 Comment

Routines are are hard thing for me to keep. But I’ve found when I write what I’m going to do down, I’m more likely to stick to it. So, here is my routine that I tend to have on my “writing days” when I have a day off work to simply go at whatever writing project I’m working on. One thing that’s nice about this routine is I get a lot of writing done before the day really starts. By 10:00, sometimes I already have 1,000 words which is great progress for me. And then I have the rest of day to do with what I wish (whether that means more writing or other fun things, it entirely depends on the day).

Now I’m not going to guarantee this routine would work for you. Everyone writes differently and has different writing habits that work for them. But I figured I’d post it anyways not only as a reminder to myself to stick with it, but in hopes that maybe someone else can draw some inspiration from it for their own routine.

6:30am – Wake up

It usually takes me a second to prepare myself for the day and simply getting out of bed so sometimes I set my alarm to 6:20 just to make sure I’m actually getting started by 6:30.

6:40am – Drink a glass of water

Hydration is really important. I find my brain wakes up quicker when I drink a glass of water right when I wake up so I definitely recommend this.

6:50am – Eat Breakfast

I have been a breakfast skipper before in the past, I’ll admit it. But I have found that I’m more foggy mentally if I do skip. So if you want to get lots of writing done, I definitely recommend not only grabbing breakfast, but a substantial one. (But even a protein bar is better than nothing).

7:15am – Start Writing

Now its time to just sit down, and WRITE. No overthinking-just do it!

8:00am – 5 minute water break

Like I said, hydration is important. Give your brain a rest too. If you need to take longer break, that’s fine too. I’ve stretched this window of time out to 20 minutes when I’ve really needed it.

8:05am – Write some more

You’re on a roll!

9:00am – Half hour break and Midmorning Power Snack

Again, I feel foggy if I don’t have food or water and that doesn’t help me write in the slightest. So if you’re hungry again by this point, grab a power snack before pushing forward.

9:30am – Take a walk/Just move a little

Physical activity also tends to boost my creativity. It doesn’t have to be intensive either. A leisurely walk or some light stretches do the trick for me.

10:30am – Return to Writing for an hour or so.

And one last push! Here is where I sometimes edit instead of write before I go about my other duties I have scheduled for the day!

Evening Poems: A Healer

~ Brooke F. ~ 1 Comment

I broke my heart one day, 

Fell to pieces in the day to day fray. 

Shattered shards of red clay 

So I put them in bag and went on my way, 

To find a healer to make me okay. 

I have heard tales of father time 

Tales and poems and even a rhyme. 

So to his house I did climb. 

Hoping to find father time. 

I found him sitting for a meal, 

Hoping he’d take me up on a deal. 

“If this heart you can heal, 

Unto you, I shall kneel.” 

Father time did not conceal, 

The frown in his face he did reveal. 

“I cannot make a heart feel. 

Tis a law I can’t repeal.” 

“Only the maker of the heart of clay 

Can give the healing you so crave. 

If you wish to heal this day, 

You’ll heed my words, I do pray.” 

“But of this, take close note, 

This isn’t a quick antidote.” 

“If this pain you wish to release, 

To put It back together, 

He must have every piece.” 

Writing Prompt: The Sword in the Butter

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

A magical sword gets melted down into a set of silverware by some mishap. The blade was lost to time and people soon forgot it until a great evil overtook the land many years later. The people suddenly remembered their grandparent’s stories of a magical blade that could cut through evil like butter. But they could not find it no matter how much they searched…until a farm boy was sitting at his table and grabbed a piece of silverware from his mother’s special cabinet for all the other utensils were dirty. He goes to cut the bread for his breakfast only to find this butter knife is anything but ordinary.

Writing Prompt: The Lavender Field Murders

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

A group of children who were playing in the town’s most expansive lavender field stumble across a body…and then another…and another. Turns out there are tons of corpses left in this field all with varying levels of decay. Whoever was responsible for these killings left the evidence in the lavender field where the smell would be covered by the sweet scent of flowers. Tell me about the Lavender Field Killings and who was responsible.

Evening Poems: Mending

~ Brooke F. ~ 2 Comments

Here comes the rain,
An ice cold shower,
Clouds that rumble
And hold grey power.

Here comes the rain,
Can you feel the chill?
As water and light,
From the clouds spill.

Rain on earth
Earth in air,
This is your paradise,
A world so fair.

Rain begins to heal,
As a heart begins to mend.
There is only rain drops
In their slow descend.

Perks of being a Writer

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

There are a lot of reasons I love writing. The expression, the escapism, the feeling of improving your craft just to name a few. But sometimes I can lose sight of these things. I place a lot of pressure on myself to perform well at many tasks in my day to day life. School, work, and anything in between. As a result, sometimes I exert this pressure upon myself when it comes to writing. On my bad days, I can sometimes lose sight of why I love doing this. So I composed a little list, more for myself than anything, of reasons I love the art form of putting your thoughts in pen.

Your work will outlive you and you leave something behind.

Not to be a wet blanket or anything, but sometimes I think about how long the world has been around and how very brief my existence is in it. It just puts things in perspective. But the thought that maybe someone years after I’m gone could stumble across any of my work and feel connection, makes me feel sunny inside.

You get the joy of exploring ideas and concepts without being bound to reality.

Reality can be a bit of a downer. This probably can go into the same category of escapism. Sometimes It’s nice to “play God” a little in your world and not be bound by the laws that actually govern you in the real world. You have freedom to explore whatever you wish.

You get to explore parts of yourself that you probably didn’t know.

I figured this out the more I started writing vent poetry that will never see the light of day. But I did find it very therapeutic and it helped me work through stuff and vocalize certain parts of myself that wouldn’t have gotten otherwise. Something about putting your thoughts in rhyme makes it almost fun and digestible even if the part of me the piece represents isn’t my favorite to look at.

You have the ability to touch people through your work.

Probably one of the biggest why’s as to why I write. Writing touched me as a young person (specifically during my lonely middle school days). I hope that my work can do the same for someone else, and perhaps make someone out there feel a little less lonely.

Increasing your knowledge of language and how to communicate with people.

English as a subject wasn’t always my favorite. It wasn’t terrible, don’t get me wrong, but I found I liked it much more in practice than when its broken down into rules and definitions. But one thing I did find and the more I wrote and read, the easier this subject got. Probably because English, like most all languages, is easier to learn in practice and the more you toy around with it.

You can live hundreds of lives.

Coming back ’round to the mortality thing, there are many things I will not get to experience. But writing offers me a little window into the many lives I will never truly live and I think that’s really special.

It doesn’t really cost you anything.

As a broke college student, this is a MARVELOUS perk. A healthy hobby that doesn’t dost anything is invaluable.

You can write for a long, long time.

A wonderful thought is that I can write all through my life. It is something that, If I want it to be, can be a constant in my life. I am not bound by the physical tax that puts an expiration date on many hobbies. I can write well into my older years, and that comforts me more and more with each passing year.

Evening Poems: Wisdom In The Thicket

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Deep in thicket
In the dark of the wood
Next to a oak
That has long withstood,
Sits an old fox,
Tail bushy and red
With scars suggesting
He should have long been dead.
Talk to the Fox,
He answers one question each,
In hopes that wisdom
He will pass and teach.
Why do we die?
She was first to ask.
The Fox cocked his head,
For this was no easy task.
We pass on, for this is not our home.
Why linger in the darkness of a tomb?
We were made to be many things,
Child, you see,
But comfortable is not one of them.
For against our very nature,
To stay and simply be.
Why then care at all?
The boy said.
He was smaller with brown eyes,
A hair of dark red.
The Fox smiled
A kind toothy grin.
I think that is an answer,
That you find within.

Writing Prompt: Mirror Maze

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

You attend a carnival with your friends only to find yourself left alone as they each pair up and go on a ride that you weren’t too keen on riding anyway. So, to kill some time, you decide to head on over to the Mirror Maze. However, as you maneuver through the glass, you find that there is no such thing as a “dead end” in this maze. When you misstep and expect yourself the bang into a wall, you fall through the glass, finding the gateway to another world.

Then, unbeknownst to you, your friends come looking for you, also in the Mirror Maze. They make much of the same discovery except for one small problem: they step through completely different mirrors to completely different worlds. Turns out, there are multiple gateways in this mirror maze, and they’re all to easy to fall into. This is, in short, a disaster.

Evening Poems: Trust Fall

~ Brooke F. ~ 3 Comments

Love is like a trust fall
Where someone is allowed to let you fall
For if they dont wanna catch you
You dont want them catching you at all.
You lean into the air
And land upon your back
Too late to back out now
Even though they’ve taken two steps back.
So little surprise-you get the Wind knocked out
You Roll over on your side,
Your Heart is full of doubt
But you close your eyes
And then breath in
Nothing left to do but
Dust yourself off
To get up
And try again.