If you’re familiar with Jane Espenson on Twitter, you’ll probably know what one of her ‘writing sprints’ is; if not, it’s pretty simple – for a designated period of time (usually 30 minutes or an hour), you’ll do nothing but writing or another task you’ve been putting off. It’s pretty effective in getting you in a productive state of mind…and having hundreds of other tweeters putting in a hell of a lot more work than you isn’t half a good encouragement.

But that’s not what this is.

I was talking to an old friend last night about writing in general and this blog in particular and he was trying to figure out what it was. I know the feeling. We talked about practicing our craft and ‘sprinting’ came up. He asked me if that’s what this is, and I couldn’t say yes. Long-distance running didn’t seem to fit. It’s not a marathon. A sprint is designed to get you somewhere. A race has a finish line. This has no end in sight, it’s more like…training myself not to suck while hoping other people think I already don’t.

Like jogging while trying to deliver stand-up. Working on your act in a rehearsal space that’s made out out transparent plastic in the town square. And, as with any new exercise regime, you suck at it for the first few days until you find any sense of rythm or consistency. So I apologise for any lack of entertainment or interest you might be experiencing right now. Teething pains, I promise.

I also promise I’ll stop blogging about how hard it is to blog real soon. Swear. I have other things to talk about. Like, at least three other things. One of them may or may not be how hard it is to be young, educated and a little bit middle class. Please don’t hate me.

Writing-jogging. Wrogging.

Yeah, that’ll work. I’m off to copyright now.


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