Set a timer for three minutes. Put your hands on the keys or grip tightly to your pen. Start writing. Don’t stop until the timer goes off. Don’t think. Just write. Ready? Set. Go.
Okay, what do I write about for three minutes? Well, I see a painting of falling leaves. There’s a comet soaring through space. I just corrected a typo and that killed some time. I see peace on a plane of red. Is is plane? Or plain? You know the large space like the ethereal plane. I think it’s plane. No time to look it up. Sill have over half my time. I see the words “I wish…” and it makes me wonder what to wish for? A dozen spots? To stop writing typos? Maybe a dream come true. It’s usually a dream come true. Then, there’s the canvas of smoke. Black, stained words spill poison like dripping ink upon it. Right in the center, a reminder. That when all the world is dark. You’re still loved. How many times and I going to correct a typo? Ten seconds. What else? Three. Two. And, one.
Done.
That was stressful.
nikki diekemper 