By Ratika Deshpande

Often, when I need inspiration or a reminders that I’ve dealt with my present insecurities a dozen times before, I turn to my blog to get some wisdom from my past self. Until recently, she always offered what I needed to hear. Lately, however, I started getting bored with her. I couldn’t bring myself to read more than a couple of paragraphs. All my posts were the same—familiar rhythms and themes, overused phrases and descriptions, long-winded sentences, everything said in three beats, three examples. I complained a lot and was often self-deprecating.

My writing needed novelty. So after weeks of starting pieces and abandoning them as soon as I found myself telling the same story for the millionth time, I decided to make some changes. Initially unplanned, the following are some prompts and techniques I’ve refined over time and use regularly now to try to write in new ways.

And here’s why I’d recommend them to everyone: as we write more, we find our voice, which means that our writing style starts following a rhythm. This can get monotonous over time. When that happens, writing starts feeling like a chore—and that makes it very easy (at least it did for me) to quit writing out of frustration. 

Trying something new can also help us get unstuck by approaching our story/essay/poem from a different place, or by simply playing freely with words. Moreover, experimentation can open the path to more acceptances—editors are always looking for something they’ve never seen before. 

So how do you bring novelty into your writing?

Write letters. Pick a recipient–you don’t actually have to send the letter to them—and write as if you were talking to them. What would they like to hear? What kind of slang would you use or jokes would you crack with them? What are the areas they know nothing/a lot about?

This is just like having an Ideal Reader (IR) in mind, as Stephen King describes in On Writing. The difference is that writing a letter is a low-pressure activity—there are no rules about length and style, and so you can let the soul of your idea or story guide you. Having an IR narrows your focus in a good way by giving shape to your words.

Switch forms. I’ve been writing poems lately, without needing any prompts or dedicated time, after staying away from them for almost a decade because I was convinced poetry wasn’t for me. Every time I feel I need to say something, I open the Google Keep app on my phone and start typing. Moreover, I’ve been writing these poems in Hindi, a language I’ve not used for my writing before. Both of these switches have opened my mind to new observations, metaphors, and questions. The same world looks different when you try to talk about it in a different form (and/or language).

So if you’re a poet, try writing a short story. If you’re a novelist, give essays a go. Mix things up and see what you can create. To get started, Poets & Writers magazine offers some interesting prompts you can play with in their weekly newsletter.

Change your consumption. This could include reading genres and topics you wouldn’t usually choose, but I’d recommend going a step beyond and taking a break from reading to watch movies and YouTube videos as well as listening to music, and then writing. See how what you write about and how you write it, in terms of form, sentence composition, etc. changes when you change your input.

Rewrite sentences with common structures. How many times have you read—and written—sentences that have the given structures:

• Not only was I…
• And although I…
• Whether it’s A, B, or C…
• Even as I…
• And so…

There’s nothing wrong with such phrases. I’d still recommend changing them when you find yourself writing them, and asking how you could frame your point differently—you’ll probably end up writing sentences you wouldn’t have thought of. For example, I was going to begin the previous sentence thus: “But consider…,” which is one phrase I’ve used a lot in my writing.

Try going through some texts and hunt for sentence structures that you’ve seen several times. How can you rephrase them? Now, do the same for your own drafts.

Write slowly. The previous exercise would require slowing down. Try to do that even when you’re not playing around with sentences. Fast writing encourages fast thinking and familiarity. Typing each sentence slowly—literally slowly—gives your brain some breathing thinking space to come up with newer/better descriptions, lines of inquiry, turns of phrases, rather than going down the default path. 

Argue against yourself. In our writing (especially non-fiction) we’re making a case for something, even if implicitly. Over time, we may find ourselves saying the same things repeatedly, rather than diverting from the philosophies we’ve developed. We might become bored with ourselves (as I had).

So try arguing against yourself. Write an essay in favour of AI if you’re anti-AI, for example. Write a story with a happy ending if you’ve only written tragedies before. Standing on the opposite side will force you to think in new ways. You might not change completely, but there will be novel ideas in your inventory to explore further.

Here are some more exercises to try:

1. Make a list of the things you usually write about. Now write about a new topic without referring to or relating to anything on your list.
2. What is a topic you’re interested in but don’t know much (or anything) about? Write about it. Then do the research to fill in gaps you recognized.
3. What tropes do you use the most in your writing (enemies-to-lovers, sibling conflict, etc.)? Write the opposite of those tropes (lovers-to-enemies, sibling harmony) or write something without those tropes. (You can also put tropes of one genre in another genre.)
4. Pick a non-fiction book you haven’t read (better if you don’t know what it’s about). Browse its table of contents. Now write essays based solely on the chapter titles. Or look at a fiction anthology and use the titles to write something of your own.
5. Make a list of what the market of your genre/your target publication wants. Now write something that checks none of the boxes.

A good sign you’re moving towards something new? When you have to stop and think, when you question your writing, when it seems difficult. If it seems easy (or, perhaps, quick), then you’re likely falling into a familiar rhythm. Try to avoid that. Venture into discomfort. Or, as the reminder I once put on a sticky note said: Write until you surprise yourself.

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Bio: Ratika Deshpande (she/her), writes, rambles, and rants on her blog at chavanniclass.wordpress.com