I have one hour of free time after dropping my kids off at their math class. I could go to a coffee shop, but by the time I drive, park, enter, order and receive my tea, I’d only have thirty minutes. That leaves ten minutes by the time I settle in a chair and switch to my writing brain before I need to pack up and drive back to the kids. Since I usually only have pockets of time– five minutes here, ten minutes there– an hour feels like a luxury. So, I stay parked outside the kid’s class. Sitting in the driver’s seat with my computer propped on my crisscrossed legs I stare at the blinking caret. I want to focus on my blog Writing Between Pancake Flips. While the rain plimp-ploomps against the windshield, I quiet the voice that says I should work on my novel. I tell myself, “It’s okay, I am still honing my craft. My story will be there when I'm ready.” I’ve noticed when I work on my novel for too long, my voice feels stale and strained. The blog, which is more like a conversation with my friends, feels like a palette cleanser. I get the same feeling when I switch to Armenian or Spanish after having spoken English for too long. Another favorite is pairing contrasting activities of playing piano after a boxing session. Like boxing, blogging will warm me up and loosen my thoughts. And it’s fun. Have you ever written just for fun? Typically when I think of writing for fun, I think no rules, or maybe a stream of consciousness. Today I’m trying something different. Today I am going to find the fun in limitations. The first limitation: writing a sentence while omitting a letter. →The sun-warmed blueberries are were small tiny, sweet explosions; they taste like summer the epitome of summer. →The blueberries were tiny, sweet explosions; the epitome of summer. This sentence took me ten minutes. I will never take the letter ‘a’ for granted. With twenty minutes left, I try one more limitation: using only even numbered words. → Behind tulips bent by a cool breeze, her youthful eyes follow laughing children as they play. In grief, grieving, she Sarah crushes pulverizes pretty petals. →Behind tulips bent by cool breeze, youthful eyes follow laughing children as they play. Grieving, Sarah pulverizes pretty petals. Dang this is hard! This sentence took fifteen minutes, but it felt like forever. I will also be eternally indebted to odd numbered power houses: a, the, and, & all the pronouns: she, him, her, he, their (thank you ‘they’ for being even numbered). For both exercises there were more strike throughs than I showed above. Both still feel incomplete. These exercises are like a HIIT workout for my brain. I see my children walk out and huddle under the porch. “Can you drive closer to us!” They ask through what has become a downpour. The rain reminds me of my visit to Longford, Ireland. My friend, Claire and I were about to go on a hike when the rain started. I’d been ready to turn back, but she told me, “Don’t plan around the weather, plan through it.” Plan through it we did, and I enjoyed every muddy step. I hope Claire doesn’t mind, but I tweaked it. ‘Don’t write around your day, write through it.’ Is there a writing activity or exercise you like to do? I'd love to hear it!