What is Quiet Writing?

Plus a writing prompt for paid subscribers

Last week, I talked about something that’s been bringing me a lot of joy lately, and which has been helping me through a tricky patch of working on Novel Number 3. Namely: quiet writing.

But what is ‘quiet writing’, exactly? And how can it help you if you’re stuck on your own work?

I’m not sure if ‘quiet writing’ is already a recognised term. I don’t think it is – I think it’s just what I call it, because it feels right to me. But it’s part of a long-established tradition that includes ‘morning pages’, ‘observational writing’ and ‘freewriting’.

Basically, it’s just about existing in the here-and-now, and writing in response to that. Writing for its own sake, rather than towards a specific project. Being and writing in-the-moment.

Why ‘quiet writing’?

Lately, I’ve been carving out little blocks of time to sit at my desk or in the garden or at the table in the shed, and to just write. I’ve been thinking about it as ‘quiet writing’ partly because it’s literally a quiet activity. I sit and listen, and the only noise I make is the scratching of my pen against the paper of my notebook. No talking to myself. No clacking of keys. No technology pinging notifications at me. Just me, my notebook and a pen.

But it’s also ‘quiet’ because it’s separate from the noise of the publishing industry.

If you’ve followed me on here for a while, you may already know that I often find the publishing industry difficult and overwhelming in its frantic busyness. I also think that, as a writer, it’s easy to get caught up in all the bells and whistles of the industry: the prize lists and announcements and social media posts and reviews and all the other things that are wholly necessary, but also a huge step apart from the actual process of making the work.

Quiet writing is quiet because it’s a step back from all that noise. It’s a way of just being with the page, without fear or agenda.

I sit in the garden, or at my desk, and I write.

What do you write?

Whenever people talk about this kind of writing, they will often talk about the freedom to write whatever comes into your head. I think this can hugely appealing: a chance to work through whatever is bothering you (either in life or in your work); a chance to get through the fluff that’s occupying your brain to the good creative material underneath; or even just a chance to figure out what it is you want to write after all.

Almost every writing workshop I lead, I tend to open with a freewriting exercise. Usually a sentence-starter, and then a few minutes to just see where it takes you.

I love that freedom. I think it’s important. But I think the prompt is important, too. Because sometimes, having the freedom to write about absolutely anything can be overwhelming. And you can end up writing nothing at all.

So, when I practise quiet writing, I set myself a prompt. It’s always the same prompt, and it’s a very simple one – with lots of room for writing about whatever has been obsessing me lately.

And this is what I write: