I borrowed today’s writing exercise from Hemingway himself.

Once in a while, to make conversation (usually at happy hour), I toss out this ridiculous claim:

“I’ve memorized an entire story by Ernest Hemingway.”

When someone skeptically says, “let’s hear it,” I clear my throat and deliver–as sadly as possible–these six words…

For sale: baby shoes, never worn.

Hemingway did write that. He also, allegedly, called it his best work. As a writing exercise, I started trying to craft “micro-stories” (I guess these tiny tales now have a popular name in the writing biz) but I find the six-word limit too challenging.

So lately, I practice with a 1,000 character limit. Still a real challenge, but I can breathe inside that space a bit. Plus, I can write them inside a Facebook comment field to surprise and/or annoy my friends.

If you’re staring at a copy deadline, you don’t want to use this method to prime the pump (or unclog the pipeline). Takes too long, and you might get really sidetracked on the creative piece, get fired from your copywriting job, and wind up a box store greeter. Which would stink. But during a break in the action, I love micro-stories for stretching the part of my brain that kicks in while I write.

The payoff, I think, is in several key benefits I can really use while I’m writing ad copy:

1. I can jump into writing more quickly, with less “come up with a cool idea” think time. My flow is pre-conditioned to kick on as I start writing. I might be surprised where it goes. Might have to do more editing later, too. But that’s a good thing.
2. I can write faster. I used to think, think, think about all my talking points while I wrote copy. Now, I just write. If I haven’t done my homework first, of course I’m screwed for quality or accuracy. But if I’m all researched up, I can write around each point in order and then put the pieces together in a second go-round.
3. I can also take off in new directions with greater ease than ever. I may write a line off the top of my head that I wasn’t really expecting. Most of the time, this stuff is crap and I move on, knowing I can edit that out later. But more and more often, I save those bits and find the snippet that explodes into a seriously great test campaign.

Here’s one I wrote a few days ago. FYI, if you’re a stickler, the title doesn’t count toward the character limit!

Page Nine

——— ——— ———

“That story’s gonna be the end of you,” a tired voice floated up the stairs.

He barely heard it…

The Writer stared at them. Seven, eight, nine sheets of—not paper, he thought. Dark grey, shimmery, perfectly square.

He slid a single sheet (it felt warm) to the middle of the empty desk. As his pen touched the material, a white spot appeared and began to spread.

Like an ink blot, only made of light, the Writer thought.

He pulled the pen away and the small pool of light began to ripple at its edges. It got brighter, too. Or was the lamp fading—yes, the room’s corners were going dark.

Almost disappearing.

The light-blob on the grey page pulled, shook itself into smaller drops and streaks. Oh what the—no, those are letters.

WORDS.

Suddenly the Writer knew what to do. And he had to do it fast.

He jerked open the drawer where he kept his good pens. Grabbing a handful, and the remaining grey pages, he yelled “Don’t wait up!”

Then the Writer was alone in a void with two glowing, floating words…

The End.