Limbo Exercises: What They Were To Me

Self Portrait, 1981 (Acrylic on cardboard)

In the early 1980s, when I first embraced writing as a calling, I read On Becoming A Writer (1934) by Dorothea Brande. Ms. Brande was an American writer, editor, and writing instructor from Chicago. Her book, a treasure trove of practical advice on writing and personal development, is a classic on the creative process. In particular, two pieces of practical advice helped me immensely. The first: write every day. The second, however, was the game-changer. She said that it was imperative to learn how to write on command. 

In other words, don’t wait for “inspiration.” Don’t wait for the earth to move. Rather, write because it is your job (or decision) to do so. For me personally, she was saying, "Set aside a designated time to sit down and write."

 

I took this to heart. Every day after supper I would sit at my typewriter and fill a page with words. Some of it was stream of consciousness, some of it was preconceived ideas I’d organized in my head while apartment painting during the day, and some of it was poetic expression. Whether it took 10 minutes or 25 minutes was immaterial. Building the habit of producing words on paper was the aim.

 

The name I gave to these daily missives was Limbo Exercises. Just as we need to be physically active to keep our muscle tone and physical health, so it is that writing keeps us exercising our minds, which is good for our mental health.

 

What did I learn from these exercises? Discipline. In the process I also found that some of what I produced became seeds for stories, articles and poems. No Pulitzer Prize material, but a few little gemstones that could polished and shared to lift people's spirits or make people think.

 

I wrote the above as an explanation for any blog posts with the subtitle Limbo Exercise #2 or #17 or whatever.. The idea was resurrected by reading Kent Peterson’s substack, Tales from a Rolltop Desk. Kent writes the old-fashioned way, with that beautiful sound of clickety-clack emanating from his fingers on a typewriter. 

 

There are some who insist the best, and maybe only, way to write is with a pencil or pen on paper. My personal view is this: The right way is the way that works for you. 

 

Are you called to write? Then do it. 

Related

Limbo Exercise #41

A Long Time Ago

When I first started writing seriously, I committed to performing daily writing exercises so that I could learn to write at will and not be subjects to the whims of the muse. I called these Limbo Exercises. Essentially, I would pre-determine a time and would sit at my typewriter till I'd filled a page of prose. The goal was filling the page, not writing articles or even significant things necessarily, but learning how to prime the pump and tap the stream.

A lot of those pages were rubbish, but even in the rubbish there were interesting gems that could be re-configured or be used here or there in various places. One such piece was included in my story "The Unfinished Stories of Richard Allen Garston." (Newmanesque, N&L Publishing, 2011)

I came across a folder with some of these exercises recently and thought they might make fodder for a blog entry. They didn't have titles, so that has been added. I'll call this one A Long Time Ago.

A Long Time Ago

Of course he only said it because he was obligated to speak.
He didn’t like it any more than they did.
But what was he to do?

With best wishes... This time he understood.
Wherever there were answers there must be questions.
If only he could figure it out.
But then, adults were like that.
You can never figure them out.

The safe thing was not the best thing, but it was O.K.
At least for the time being.

The ideas introduced themselves and he pondered their value.
When he finished the exercise he found new ways to explain it.
The potential was enormous.
Why had he taken so long to recognize what was plainly evident to all?
Surely it was his youth, his lack of experience.
The rigorous training would eventually pay off.
He was certain of this.

In the meantime, he would wait. Counting days.
It would happen as planned or it would be broken up.
There were no other paths.

Limbo Exercise #41

I have made reference before to Dorothea Brande's book Becoming A Writer. Hers was one of the most influential of the many books I'd read (and I'd read dozens) when I was initially striving to do just that, become a writer. Brande emphasized that the craft could be learned and that we did not have to be subject to the whims of a muse. Instead, we could learn to write on command.

As a result of this book one of the things I did to develop this ability was to begin doing daily limbo exercises. If you look up limbo on Google you see videos pertaining to loosening your body. My limbo exercises were designed to loosen my mind and free my pen, or rather, my fingers that tapped on the typewriter keys. And to learn how to create prose on command.

It would go like this: I would take a blank sheet of paper and at the appointed time each day fill it with words. The subconscious mind would actually begin composing long before reaching my seat to do the writing. This daily discipline was quite helpful in enabling me to produce volumes of creative copy. Many of those exercises unearthed some fascinating material and became the basis for articles, stories and poems. What follows is an extract from one of those limbo exercises, circa 1982-4.

Of course he only said it because he was obligated to speak.
He did not like it any more than they did.
But what was he to do?

With best wishes... This time he understood. Wherever there were answers there must be questions. If only he could figure it out.

But then, adults were like that. You can never figure them out. The safe thing was not the best thing, but it was O.K. At least for the time being.

The ideas introduced themselves and he pondered their value. When he finished the exercise he found new ways to explain it. The potential was enormous.

Why had he taken so long to recognize what was plainly evident to all? Surely it was his youth, his lack of experience. The rigorous training would eventually pay off. He was certain of this.

In the meantime, he would wait. Counting days. It would happen as planned or it would be broken up. There were no other paths.

To all you writers out there, "Write on!"