I created this form alongside John Simmons for 26 Treasures in 2010.

26 Treasures paired writers from 26.org.uk with 26 objects from the V&A in London, challenging them to write a sestude.

A sestude? Collins Dictionary calls it “a reflective study using exactly 62 words”.

Over time, we’ll reflect on different things using sestudes, from treasures to everyday objects, special people to significant moments.

The rule is to keep to 62 words (‘26’ in reflection), and write in any form.

Happy writing

Rob

I wrote it after cycling around Lake Kawaguchiko in Japan and discovering a statue by Seibo Kitamura. It sits at the edge of the lake. Overlooking it, I imagined.

It goes like this:

My tale tells the story behind the statue, and leans into the fantastical style of Japanese fiction I enjoy so much.

But what about the main characters? Sonshitsu and his loss, Nozomu and her hope.

Write to one or to the other in haiku form, 5-7-5, just you to them.

Happy writing

Rob

Kanji is a Japanese writing system that uses Chinese characters.

Visit Japan and you’ll see it everywhere, from road markings to shop signs.

Here’s the text we’re looking to translate. From my research*, it’s original kanji written by novelist Haruki Murakami to start his short story collection After The Quake:

Unless you’re Japanese or know the language, I doubt you’ll have a clue what’s happening. If you’ve read After The Quake, written following the Kobe earthquake of 1995, you might remember how book one, ‘UFO in Kushiro’, begins.

Whether you do or don’t, enjoy this kanji. Interpret characters if you wish. Respond to those or the book’s subject. Know Murakami? Mimic his style if you’d like to try.

Give it a go, and embrace the freedom of getting lost in language.

Happy writing

Rob

*it was tricky to find. Hopefully it’s correct, apologies for any errors.

Only scroll down to see the Jay Rubin translation when you’ve written your own.

Promise you’ve written your own opening seven lines?

A final check. Sure you’ve finished?

Right, here you go:

Limericks might seem throwaway. But there’s a science to their playfulness.

LINES THAT RHYME

Any poem with lines that rhyme has a ‘rhyme scheme’, where A represents the first set of rhyming lines, B the second and so on.

A traditional limerick has the rhyme scheme AABBA, where lines 1, 2 and 5 end with a rhyme, and lines 3 and 4 end with a different rhyme.

For example, here in children’s author Constance Levy’s jolly limerick:

Although Constance doesn’t do it above, some limerick poets use the same word to rhyme lines 1 and 5. If Constance had, line 5 would end “glue” as well.

BUILD TO PAY-OFF

Meter is how the stress of syllables builds the flow of a poem. The meter of a limerick should build from a set-up to a fun pay-off. Without that pay-off, similar to the punchline of a joke, what comes before isn’t worth anything. Pay-off counts.

Like here in Edward Lear’s mischievous limerick of 1846, where by the end of line 2 we want to know what has happened to the Old Man’s beard:

Meter is all to do with stressed and unstressed syllables. Limericks traditionally start unstressed (above: “There”), with the second syllable being the stressed (above: “was”). Think of it like the gallop of a horse: clip-CLOP clip-CLOP clip-CLOP.

(Note the repetition of “beard” in lines 1 and 5, as I mention above.)

SUBJECT

Finally, some limericks are naughty, even filthy. Though most are just a little bit silly. Let’s aim for silly over filthy at Creative Constraints Club.

Or the man from Nantucket might blush...

Happy writing

Rob

Here it is:

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Here’s what Stuart and Sam write about their piece:

“Two poems – one in the voice of Prince Albert, the other in the voice of the bridge. They face each other like the opposite banks of the Thames.

“In typography, a river is the name for a distracting trail of white space that runs vertically through a justified paragraph, created when gaps between words align across consecutive lines.

“Here, the negative space between the end of one line and the beginning of the next becomes the river itself – a quiet channel flowing between the voices of A and B.”

Try it yourselves. Choose your voices, A and B. Allow a river to run between.

Happy writing

Rob

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Around the time of the painting, an earthquake shakes London. Westminster Bridge is first opened. And relations with the American colonies are starting to sour.

Also, the Thames has become a traffic jam, filled with trading vessels. Entry to and from the River Fleet won’t have been easy. Oh, and the whole area, all the waterways, are full of rotting waste, human and slaughterhouse.

Study the painting. Choose a character. Write their journal from today.

Happy writing

Rob

Here’s one I contributed to Family Matters, an anthology by Dark Angels.

Whether you’ve experienced such loss or not, find a word, a line or some rhythm to feed your own piece of writing. Follow the thread and see where it leads you.

Happy writing

Rob

GROWING THE CLUB - VERY SPECIAL OFFER

Sign up now for 30 days of Creative Constraints Club fun absolutely free. Enjoy a creative constraint Monday to Friday, and the chance to appear in Sunday Showcase.

Hopefully you’ll love it. If not, simply unsubscribe before the end of your 30 days.

The artist said of capturing night scenes: “It often seems to me that the night is much more alive and richly coloured than the …

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Literal language can be massively powerful for getting your point across.

But a bold and striking metaphor can grab a reader by the ruff. Or sail them gently across a diam…

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I created this form for the 20:26 Project, as part of writers organisation 26.

It encourages you to reflect on a life-shaping event (between 2000 and 2026 for the original pr…

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There are three POVs, or storytelling perspectives, you’re likely to come across when you read or write: first person, second person and third person.

First and second are fairly straightforward as there’s only really one way to do them. Third can be trickier, as it breaks into two. You’ll spot the first- and third-person POV most often. Second is a rarer beast. Over time, we’ll have fun trying them all.

FIRST PERSON

You’re writing as yourself, or the person or thing telling the story.

Use “I” and “my” to help your reader experience life from your/the thing’s perspective. Autobiographies and personal memoirs are written in the first person. For example, Bill Bryson’s Notes From a Small Island:

SECOND PERSON

You’re speaking directly to your audience, like they’re a character in the story.

Use “you” and “your” to help your reader feel in the thick of it. I first came across this POV when studying the great American essayists. For example, EB White, who uses second person for grit and immediacy in ‘Here is New York’ from 1949:

THIRD PERSON

You’re writing as a narrator who is removed from the story.

It’s all “he”, “she”, “they”, “their” and “them”, giving your reader everything they need to make sense of what’s happening. Well, most of the time. But not always.

You can have an all-knowing third-person narrator. They see into the minds of all characters, and know what’s been and what’s to come. Nothing is secret from them. Or you can have a limited third-person narrator. They might learn things as you do.

Jane Austen was genius with this. Here she is giving us a wide-angle, all-knowing sweep of place, plot and character to open Sense and Sensibility:

We’ll play with these different points of view over time. If they don’t make sense now, please don’t worry at all – they’ll become clearer the more we use them.

Theory is interesting, but play is where we learn.

Happy writing

Rob

I start nearly all my workshops with this. It gets creative muscles limber, quietens the inner critic, and you just need a pen, some paper, and any sort of timer.

WHAT TO DO

Simply, write. For as long as our creative constraint encourages you.

Sometimes, I might say start with a specific word or phrase or idea to get you going. Other times, it will be totally up to you where to begin.

The important thing is to continue writing. No time to engage your brain in deep thoughts or decisions. Simply, write. And write. You’re not aiming to create anything precise, certainly not perfect. You’re allowing thoughts to flow through your pen.

Which means you need to write by hand. And keep to our time limit.

INNER CRITIC

When you write, do you ever hear a judging voice in your head? It’s usually telling you what you’re writing is silly, bad or wrong. It can be a nasty, unhelpful voice.

First time you try automatic writing, it’s likely to be loud. “You can’t use nouns like that. That’s not what you mean. This is a big waste of your time. You’re paying £7/month for WHAT?” Trust me, you’ll quieten the critic the more you write.

One day, you’ll sit down for some automatic writing and you’ll feel great. Free. Empowered. The inner critic will have been replaced by an inner glow.

Give it a go. See what flows. It’s all part of our practice.

Happy writing

Rob

This is a Japanese form of poetry with a very specific structure:

Well, that’s the English language interpretation of the original Japanese f…

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I recorded this birdsong during a walk through Epping Forest in April.

Feel free to choose a bird you hear. What is it saying?

Happy writing

Rob

I’ve spotted and photographed a few recently, in case you’d like to use mine.

Like this surprised character in North Wales:

Or this whistler beside the River Lea:

Or this poor mashed-up soul in the Epping Forest:

When developing a character profile, I find it helpful to reflect on three questions:

1. What do they want?

2. What stands in their way?

3. What are they willing to risk?

Happy writing

Rob