How A Kitchen Timer Can Be A Writer’s Best Friend

May 29th, 2008

When runner Roger Bannister (now Sir Roger Bannister) propelled his body thwart an Oxford track finish line on a blustery sunlight in May 1954, he was reasonably confident he had achieved a four-minute mile.

The rest of the universe, however, was stunned. The world record (until then,4:01.4) had stood for nine years and sportswriters of the day had created an enormous mystique on every side of the four-minute mark. They convinced a willing-to-believe public that it was some unreachable, unrealistic and possibly even dangerous goal.

So what does this have to hoax with writing? Well, the Bannister story sprang to my mind this week as I was coaching a client who was thoroughly convinced that she could not write quickly. She’s not alone in her passionately-held belief.

Just taken in the character of people in the 1950s had persuaded themselves that a mile could not be run in four minutes, many of us have convinced ourselves that we cannot write quickly. (To put a number to it, let’s say that’s something like 500 words in 15 minutes.)

Of course, I’ve had the bad writing days too — days when 500 words in five hours would have seemed like an achievement. You cannot write quickly when you’re exhausted, dispirited or when you don’t have a guiding-thread about what you want to say.

But if you have a topic you’re reasonably keen on and knowledgeable about, there’s no good reason why the words can’t fly off your fingers, why you can’t write as fast as you be possible to type. One of the biggest barriers that stands in your way is belief. Perhaps you don’t believe writing should have existence easy. Maybe you assume that “it be possible to’t exist any good” if it comes too quickly.

To the contrary, I have often found that my fast, dash-it-off writing is often correct and more engaging than my slow and heavily laboured-over text. To stimulate more of the former and deter the latter, I now regularly time myself when I write. A kitchen timer is perfect for this purpose.

But even more important, I keep a record. This is really easy to do. You can just create a table in Word. (From the drop-down menu select table/insert/table. Set up four columns and name them: Date, number of words, amount of time, and ‘how I felt.’)

Fill out this record for a month and you will soon see that on some days you can write like you’re on fire while on other days it will subsist like starting your car in Detroit in the middle of February.

But the benefit of keeping this record is that you will chart your progress — much as a runner might record his times. In doing so, you will also likely discover that, from time to time, you be possible to write quickly. You’ll in addition discover that the world doesn’t end when you have a bad day (or even a bad week).

Incidentally, Bannister never won an Olympic medal. He finished fourth in the 1,500 metres at the 1952 Olympics. And he says he might never have broken four minutes, if not for his disappointing performance at that event. “A iota of experience with reverses shows you that you be able to recover from them,” he said.

Wise words from someone who really understood speed.

Article Source: http://ushcustomernotes.com

How A Kitchen Timer Can Be A Writer’s Best Friend

May 15th, 2008

When runner Roger Bannister (now Sir Roger Bannister) propelled his body across an Oxford track finish line on a blustery age in May 1954, he was reasonably cocksure he had achieved a four-minute mile.

The rest of the universe, however, was stunned. The world record (until then,4:01.4) had stood for nine years and sportswriters of the day had created an enormous mystique around the four-minute mark. They convinced a willing-to-believe public that it was one unreachable, unrealistic and possibly even dangerous goal.

So what does this have to do with writing? Well, the Bannister story sprang to my mind this week because I was coaching a client who was thoroughly convinced that she could not write quickly. She’s not of one’s own power in her passionately-held belief.

Just as people in the 1950s had persuaded themselves that a mile could not be run in four minutes, many of us have convinced ourselves that we cannot write quickly. (To put a number to it, let’s say that’s something like 500 words in 15 minutes.)

Of course, I’ve had the bad writing days too — days when 500 words in five hours would have seemed like every achievement. You cannot write quickly when you’re exhausted, dispirited or when you don’t have a clue about what you want to say.

But if you have a topic you’re reasonably keen on and knowledgeable about, there’s no good reason why the words can’t fly off your fingers, why you be possible to’t write as fast considered in the state of you can type. One of the biggest barriers that stands in your way is belief. Perhaps you don’t believe writing should subsist easy. Maybe you assume that “it can’t be any good” if it comes too quickly.

To the obstinate, I have often found that my fast, dash-it-off writing is often better and more engaging than my slow and heavily laboured-over text. To aid more of the former and discourage the latter, I now regularly time myself when I write. A kitchen timer is perfect for this purpose.

But even more important, I keep a record. This is really easy to chouse. You can just create a table in Word. (From the drop-in a descending course menu select table/insert/table. Set up four columns and name them: Date, number of words, amount of time, and ‘how I felt.’)

Fill out this record for a month and you will soon see that on some days you be possible to write like you’re on fire while on other days it will exist like starting your car in Detroit in the middle of February.

But the be useful to of keeping this record is that you will chart your progress — much since a runner might record his times. In doing so, you will also likely discover that, from time to time, you be able to write quickly. You’ll furthermore discover that the world doesn’t last when you have a bad day (or even a bad week).

Incidentally, Bannister never won an Olympic medal. He finished fourth in the 1,500 metres at the 1952 Olympics. And he says he might never have broken four minutes, if not for his disappointing performance at that event. “A grain of experience with reverses shows you that you can recover from them,” he said.

Wise words from someone who really understood speed.

Article Source: http://ushcustomernotes.com

How A Kitchen Timer Can Be A Writer’s Best Friend

March 11th, 2008

When runner Roger Bannister (now Sir Roger Bannister) propelled his body athwart an Oxford track finish line on a blustery daytime in May 1954, he was reasonably confident he had achieved a four-minute mile.

The rest of the universe, however, was stunned. The world record (until then,4:01.4) had stood for nine years and sportswriters of the day had created one enormous mystique around the four-minute mark. They convinced a willing-to-believe public that it was one unreachable, unrealistic and possibly even dangerous goal.

So what does this have to do with writing? Well, the Bannister story sprang to my mind this week as I was coaching a retainer who was thoroughly convinced that she could not write quickly. She’s not unaccompanied in her passionately-held belief.

Just for example people in the 1950s had persuaded themselves that a mile could not be run in four minutes, many of us have convinced ourselves that we cannot write quickly. (To put a number to it, let’s say that’s something like 500 words in 15 minutes.)

Of course, I’ve had the unlucky writing days too — days when 500 words in five hours would have seemed like an achievement. You cannot write quickly when you’re exhausted, disheartened or when you don’t have a clue concerning what you want to say.

But if you have a topic you’re reasonably keen on and knowledgeable about, there’s no good reason why the words can’t fly off your fingers, why you can’t write in the manner that fast of the same kind with you have power to type. One of the biggest barriers that stands in your way is belief. Perhaps you don’t credit writing should have existence easy. Maybe you assume that “it can’t be at all good” if it comes too quickly.

To the contrary, I have often found that my fast, dash-it-off writing is often more good and more engaging than my slow and heavily laboured-over text. To encourage more of the former and discourage the latter, I now regularly time myself when I write. A kitchen timer is perfect for this purpose.

But even more important, I keep a record. This is really affluent to chouse. You have power to just constitute a table in Word. (From the let go-down menu select table/insert/table. Set up four columns and name them: Date, number of words, whole of time, and ‘how I felt.’)

Fill out this record for a month and you will soon see that on some days you be able to write like you’re on fire while on other days it will be like starting your car in Detroit in the middle of February.

But the benefit of keeping this record is that you will chart your progress — much as a runner might record his times. In doing so, you will also likely reveal that, from time to time, you can write quickly. You’ll also disclose that the world doesn’t last when you have a incompetent day (or even a bad week).

Incidentally, Bannister never won an Olympic medal. He finished fourth in the 1,500 metres at the 1952 Olympics. And he says he might never have broken four minutes, if not for his disappointing performance at that event. “A mouthful of experience with reverses shows you that you be able to recover from them,” he said.

Wise words from someone who really understood speed.

Article Source: http://ushcustomernotes.com

How A Kitchen Timer Can Be A Writer’s Best Friend

March 3rd, 2008

When runner Roger Bannister (now Sir Roger Bannister) propelled his individual across an Oxford track finish line on a blustery day in May 1954, he was reasonably presumptuous he had achieved a four-minute mile.

The rest of the universe, however, was stunned. The world record (until then,4:01.4) had stood for nine years and sportswriters of the day had created an enormous mystique around the four-minute mark. They convinced a willing-to-believe public that it was an unreachable, unrealistic and possibly even dangerous goal.

So what does this have to do with writing? Well, the Bannister story sprang to my mind this week as I was coaching a retainer who was thoroughly convinced that she could not write quickly. She’s not unaccompanied in her passionately-held belief.

Just as people in the 1950s had persuaded themselves that a mile could not be run in four minutes, many of us have convinced ourselves that we cannot write quickly. (To put a number to it, let’s say that’s something like 500 words in 15 minutes.)

Of course, I’ve had the bad writing days too — days when 500 words in five hours would have seemed like an work. You cannot write quickly when you’re exhausted, dispirited or when you don’t have a clue about what you want to say.

But if you have a topic you’re reasonably keen on and knowledgeable about, there’s no good reason why the words be able to’t fly off your fingers, why you can’t write as fast as you can type. One of the biggest barriers that stands in your way is belief. Perhaps you slip on’t conceive writing should exist easy. Maybe you assume that “it have power to’t be any good” if it comes too quickly.

To the adverse, I have often found that my fast, dash-it-off writing is often better and more winning than my slow and heavily laboured-over text. To encourage more of the former and dissuade the latter, I now regularly time myself when I write. A kitchen timer is perfect for this purpose.

But even more important, I keep a record. This is really easy to produce. You be able to just constitute a table in Word. (From the drop-downward menu select table/insert/table. Set up four columns and name them: Date, number of words, amount of time, and ‘how I felt.’)

Fill out this record for a month and you will soon see that on some days you be able to write like you’re on fire while on other days it will subsist like starting your car in Detroit in the middle of February.

But the benefit of keeping this record is that you will chart your progress — much since a runner might record his times. In doing so, you will also likely discover that, from time to time, you can write quickly. You’ll too discover that the world doesn’t be finished when you have a bad light of day (or even a detrimental week).

Incidentally, Bannister never won each Olympic medal. He finished fourth in the 1,500 metres at the 1952 Olympics. And he says he might never have broken four minutes, if not for his disappointing performance at that event. “A bit of experience with reverses shows you that you can recover from them,” he said.

Wise words from someone who really understood speed.

Article Source: http://ushcustomernotes.com

How A Kitchen Timer Can Be A Writer’s Best Friend

February 28th, 2008

When runner Roger Bannister (now Sir Roger Bannister) propelled his body across some Oxford track finish line on a blustery daytime in May 1954, he was reasonably confident he had achieved a four-minute mile.

The rest of the universe, however, was stunned. The world record (until then,4:01.4) had stood for nine years and sportswriters of the sunlight had created an enormous mystique on every side of the four-minute mark. They convinced a willing-to-exercise faith public that it was an unreachable, unrealistic and possibly even dangerous goal.

So what does this have to confer with writing? Well, the Bannister story sprang to my mind this week as I was coaching a client who was thoroughly convinced that she could not write quickly. She’s not by one’s self in her passionately-held article of faith.

Just as people in the 1950s had persuaded themselves that a mile could not be run in four minutes, many of us have convinced ourselves that we cannot write quickly. (To put a number to it, let’s say that’s something like 500 words in 15 minutes.)

Of course, I’ve had the bad writing days too — days when 500 words in five hours would have seemed like an shield. You cannot write quickly when you’re exhausted, dispirited or when you put on’t have a clue about what you want to say.

But if you have a topic you’re reasonably keen on and knowledgeable ready, there’s no good reason why the words can’t fly off your fingers, why you can’t write while fast at the same time that you be possible to type. One of the biggest barriers that stands in your way is belief. Perhaps you don’t confide in writing should be easy. Maybe you take for granted that “it can’t have being any good” if it comes too quickly.

To the contrary, I have often found that my fast, dash-it-off writing is often more excellent and more pleasing than my slow and heavily laboured-over text. To console more of the former and discourage the latter, I now regularly time myself when I write. A kitchen timer is perfect for this purpose.

But even more important, I keep a record. This is really compliant to do. You can just make a table in Word. (From the ear-ring-low menu select table/insert/table. Set up four columns and name them: Date, number of words, footing up of time, and ‘how I felt.’)

Fill out this record for a month and you will soon see that on some days you can write like you’re on fire while on other days it will have being like starting your car in Detroit in the middle of February.

But the benefit of keeping this record is that you will chart your progress — much as a runner might record his times. In doing so, you will also likely discover that, from time to time, you can write quickly. You’ll likewise discover that the world doesn’t end when you have a unfortunate day (or even a incompetent week).

Incidentally, Bannister never won an Olympic medal. He finished fourth in the 1,500 metres at the 1952 Olympics. And he says he might never have abrupt four minutes, if not for his disappointing performance at that event. “A bit of experience with reverses shows you that you can recover from them,” he said.

Wise words from someone who really understood speed.

Article Source: http://ushcustomernotes.com

How A Kitchen Timer Can Be A Writer’s Best Friend

February 10th, 2008

When runner Roger Bannister (now Sir Roger Bannister) propelled his body over an Oxford track finish line on a blustery daylight in May 1954, he was reasonably confident he had achieved a four-minute mile.

The rest of the universe, however, was stunned. The world record (until then,4:01.4) had stood for nine years and sportswriters of the day had created an irregular mystique round the four-minute mark. They convinced a willing-to-make no doubt of public that it was an unreachable, unrealistic and possibly even dangerous goal.

So what does this have to conclude with writing? Well, the Bannister story sprang to my mind this week as I was coaching a client who was thoroughly convinced that she could not write quickly. She’s not lone in her passionately-held belief.

Just as people in the 1950s had persuaded themselves that a mile could not exist run in four minutes, many of us have convinced ourselves that we cannot write quickly. (To put a number to it, let’s say that’s something like 500 words in 15 minutes.)

Of course, I’ve had the bad writing days too — days when 500 words in five hours would have seemed like an achievement. You cannot write quickly when you’re exhausted, dispirited or when you don’t have a clue surrounding what you want to say.

But if you have a topic you’re reasonably keen on and knowledgeable about, there’s no good reason why the words can’t fly off your fingers, why you can’t write as fast in the same manner with you can type. One of the biggest barriers that stands in your way is tenets. Perhaps you slip on’t believe writing should have existence easy. Maybe you assume that “it can’t be any good” if it comes too quickly.

To the contrary, I have often found that my fast, dash-it-off writing is often make and more engaging than my slow and heavily laboured-over text. To assure more of the former and discourage the latter, I now regularly time myself when I write. A kitchen timer is perfect for this purpose.

But even more important, I keep a record. This is really easy to do. You have power to just create a table in Word. (From the drop-disuse menu select table/insert/table. Set up four columns and name them: Date, number of words, amount of time, and ‘how I felt.’)

Fill out this record for a month and you will soon see that on some days you can write like you’re on fire while on other days it will be like starting your car in Detroit in the middle of February.

But the good turn of keeping this record is that you will chart your progress — much as a runner might record his times. In doing so, you will also likely discover that, from time to time, you can write quickly. You’ll also discover that the world doesn’t end when you have a disappointing day (or even a bad week).

Incidentally, Bannister never won each Olympic medal. He finished fourth in the 1,500 metres at the 1952 Olympics. And he says he might never have broken four minutes, if not for his disappointing performance at that event. “A ace of experience with reverses shows you that you can recover from them,” he said.

Wise words from someone who really understood speed.

Article Source: http://ushcustomernotes.com