A few years ago I was introduced to the concept of speed writing, whereby you set a timer for five minutes and just write. This is a great idea for when you are low on time, stuck or procrastinating on a project as it gets you moving. It is also proven to keep you going, as studies have shown that just doing five minutes of a task will get us in the ‘flow’ of doing and we will be more likely to continue until the task is done.
Back when I heard about this five-minute method I also heard about an application that forced a writer to write, by threatening to delete their current progress should they stop typing for more than five seconds. Scary I know.
Unfortunately, I forgot what the website was called and never did find it. Alas, though I liked the concept as a motivation tool I was never able to give it ago.
From the privy daybooke of Lady Lisabeth Ainsley Drake, Spinster and secrete Highwaywomen.
Entry the first
It is dreadfully cold in the night. But then at night it always is. Even shrouded in the warmth of a cloak, sitting in the ambiance of a roaring fire I feel the chill. It seems that no matter how much time should pass, the night’s never-ending freeze will not cease to claim me. And I find it hard to forget~Read More »
Lightening illuminated the stain glass of the cathedral windows, burning the air with unease. The choir boys began to hum sweetly, their voices toned with harsh discipline, howling out for mercy from their Lord, still unhearing. I wept also, though I did so with tears and no nice voice.
This was the day of my marriage to Lord Ambrose. A day darker and more miserable then any other before and yet it was true. I stood at the alter under the watch of God to pronounce eternal love and allegiance to the only man whom I have ever truly reviled. I waited in his shadow as the good Father announced us man and wife.
All the spirit left me; there was no future now, only never-ending dusk.Read More »
It is a curious thing, meeting a stranger, not knowing how much there is to discover of their character, what lies behind their façade. It is true that when this happens, it is in our nature to search for the knowledge and understandings that lies hidden from us. Such a sensation became me when I met Lionel Freedman.Read More »
When my Mother first told me the legend of the un-catchable highwayman I thought her bedlam. All this talk of a dashing rogue dressed with a half-mask, cloaked in deep cerulean, carrying naught but a pistol and a short sword! Ridiculous! Everyone knows that no man can out-ride the royal guard. And yet here we have stories of an ashen horse faster then lighting and a rider more cunning then even the devil. Naturally I would doubt such an account; to me it was just another childish fairytale that my Mother had tried to impress me with. No doubt another one of her silly schemes to try to convince me to wed. Mine being such a fiery compassion I swore never to believe her accounts, nor did I or would I ever have any such desire to wed, neither for protection, profit nor anyone’s pleasure but my own. And this I vowed.Read More »