I resolve to sit here for nine minutes and allow whatever wants to come to the page come. I resolve that I will not be disappointed in what I have written and that it will be my choice to decide whether or not I share these nine minutes with anyone else.
I resolve that I really have no idea what nine minutes of writing looks like although I spend hours each day sitting, pondering, writing words into my journal. The timed aspect is something both confining and freeing. What will my words say? When will I start or shall I just ramble along for nine minutes without direction or discourse…that is much how I spent the first 40 plus years of my life. Wondering along. Allowing others to decide what was appropriate or inappropriate. Allowing them to set the time limit. This long to be a child. Now it’s time to grow up. Go to school. College. Get married. Have a career. Start a family. Where was I in the process? Waiting for the time to pass. Hoping that tomorrow would be better with the next achievement, the next goal met, the next decade.
Well, guess what? No more. I may not have more decades. I may not even have more hours. I only have moments and I resolve to use those moments as best I can. If that means sitting and writing for nine minutes so I can discover what I am resolved to then so be it. Cool, huh? I love the moment-to-moment thing and it scares the hell out of me. What if the string of moments does not amount to anything? What if no one finds my words interesting? What if…worse yet…no one finds me interesting? What if I find myself boring? If I find that my words have no soul or meaning. That my life has been a string of meaningless nine minutes…nine years or heaven forbid nine decades.
I resolve to change today. I resolve to listen to my heart. To follow my words. To use my voice. To be the artist that I am and that scares the hell out of me, for no one ever taught me how to be an artist like they taught me to tell time or add numbers or cook a meal. To be an artist, I must learn to play and listen and discern what wants to be sprung forth from the depths of my soul. Sometimes it is childish and other times it is mature beyond my wildest imagination.
I resolve to listen. Not only to myself, but also to others in a new way. Not letting them command me in what to do or say or write, but listening so I can really hear what they are asking for. So I can hear what I really am asking of myself. Just nine minutes!
from Cafe Writing: Option Six: Timed Writing
Take nine minutes (you have to use all nine, you can’t go over), and interpret the topic Resolution.
Any format (fiction, essay, verse) is acceptable; and it’s expected that your writing will be raw, so don’t stress about editing.