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A physical writing practice and the ideas that come from it.
Most mornings I’m up early and writing on a manual typewriter from 1963. I love the mechanical snap of each letter exploding ink into paper, the whole house quiet except for that sound.
I write for long stretches when time permits. I'm interested in the deeper layers of voice and idea that are there beneath the surface, waiting for the one who stays with the process long enough.
I write about freewriting as a discipline and about the body's role in creative work. I'm neutral on AI, but the rapid adoption of it gets me more enthusiastic about obsolete tools chosen on purpose. I want to invest in the kind of broad, encompassing, far-out-wide-open focus that can't be hacked or shortcutted. The voice you have is worth finding. The practice is how you find it.
Try this: Spend five minutes writing from direct observation. Describe everything in the room you’re in right now—textures, light, sounds, the quality of air, how you feel. See what your attention reveals when you give it the directive to linger. Then come back again and do the same exercise tomorrow. See how things deepen.
What you’re joining
Personal narrative that opens into cultural criticism. Writing about creativity by being in the process. If you make things, or if you suspect that life itself might be a creative act, this is for you.
Go deeper
The Weekend Writing Marathon — a self-paced course that walks you through a full weekend of immersive freewriting
The five-day practice sequence — a free email series to get your hands moving
If you want to work together directly, I take on a small number of writers for one-on-one guided practice. I also work with people putting together memoirs for family or loved ones, and with executives as a ghostwriter. Reach out.
—Stephen
