My Solo Writing Day
So, Tuesday morning I decided to test drive writing alone. Made my usual giant mug of coffee, shut myself in the little home office we use for storage mostly, turned the phone off. Silence, right? Figured I’d knock out an essay about that trip to the coast last summer.
Honestly? It was rough.Getting started felt like pushing a heavy rock up a wet hill. Sat there staring at the blinking cursor forever. Typed a sentence, deleted it. Typed another one, hated it. Checked the time. Got more coffee. Checked the time again. I felt kind of cramped up and stuck. Felt myself getting grumpy too. Brain just wouldn’t turn on properly.
Finally, somehow, after maybe two hours of this torture, I squeezed out one draft. It felt…flat. Like it was missing something. Like reading an old grocery list.
Giving the Group Thing a Shot
Wednesday afternoon, swapped tactics. Got three buddies together over video call – Mike, Sarah, and Alex. Told ’em all to bring their half-baked ideas about “dealing with change,” which was another essay topic I was wrestling with. No prep, just jump in.
Holy smokes. We started yelling ideas at each other like kids trading cards.
- Mike went on a rant about his old car dying.
- Sarah started talking about moving houses as a kid.
- Alex threw in something about switching jobs unexpectedly.
The energy shot way up. Felt good yelling ideas around. But here’s the kicker: it got chaotic. Real chaotic. People interrupting, talking over each other. The chat window scrolling like crazy. Sarah got sidetracked telling a whole story about her cat. We ended up with bits and pieces of like six different essays instead of one focused piece.
Figuring Out What Actually Stuck
Thursday morning, I sat down with the mess.
Looked at that solo essay draft. Technically complete. Had a beginning, middle, end. Felt controlled. But it was bland. Like room-temperature water. Felt like it needed some life injected into it.
Then I looked at the notes from the group call. Absolute spaghetti mess of ideas and phrases. Could barely remember who said what when. But, buried deep? Pure gold. That feeling Sarah described when she walked into her empty old house? Yeah. That hit hard. Mike’s rant had this super funny line about his car “coughing its last breath.” Alex’s comment about the weird quietness after quitting his job? Brilliant. None of these gems were in my solo draft.
The Real Winner (For Me Anyway)
So yeah, what did my little experiment show?
Pure writing? Getting the structure down? Going alone wins. You gotta just lock in, fight through the blank page, and build that skeleton. No distractions. No talking. Just you and the words.
But breathing life into the damn thing? That needs people. People yell weird things. People spark off you. They throw in angles you never saw coming. They make you laugh or get genuinely mad. They find the feeling.
My perfect process now? Kinda obvious looking back.
- Struggle alone first to build the bare bones.
- Call in the crazy squad to throw emotional paint at it.
- Go back into my cave alone and try to make sense of the beautiful mess.
Takes longer? You betcha. But the difference in how those essays feel? Huge. Worth the coffee stains and the yelling. Trying the group thing first might work for some maniacs, but it’ll never be my go-to. My solo wrestling match has to come first.
