I’ve always admired artists who draw sketches in their notebooks. It always seemed so cool and creative, so I wanted to do something similar as a writer. To carry a small notebook with me everywhere. Especially as the idea to replace my doomscrolling with a pocket notebook and do something creative.

But I always struggled to find ideas about what to write. I thought you needed to have your notebook tidy and nice (hello, perfectionists who buy notebooks and don’t write in them)

The idea behind sketch drawing lies in the concept of practicing frequently. And writing for me is something that I need to be ready for, like I have my routine, I need to have an hour or so. I need to have my cup of coffee (Non-negotiable), and I need complete silence around me, which is difficult because I live in a really small apartment with my girlfriend.

Because of that, I write not so regularly. I’ve created this perfect routine that’s almost impossible to achieve, so naturally, I have this pretty handy excuse not to write.

But I want to change that. I want to learn how to write all the time, everywhere, like artists do when they draw sketches.

And recently, I think I found a way.

May I present to you ✨sketch fiction✨ (patent pending)

Basically, it’s flash fiction, but raw and unedited. Something that fits into two pages of a pocket notebook. A small sketch of a story, a scene, a dialogue.

With grammar mistakes, misspelled words (because that’s how people actually write their drafts, duh.)

I have proofs, I will show them in my next article, I’m working on now, I’ve collected photos of famous writers’ drafts, and my god, it’s beautiful, messy, raw.

Besides, in the AI era, it’s become important to show you being a real person, who makes mistakes, who misspells words, and uses wrong grammar, so this idea fits even better.

(Also, it’s a great way to post more notes on Substack because I’m struggling with being consistent with that, and these sketches are quite short, so they will be a perfect fit for that too, so please feel free to steal this idea.)

Below is the typed-out version of my first sketch that I wrote while commuting in train:

“He tried to concentrate”

Words don’t want to come out of open no matter how hard he tried.

The blank page looked at him with no intention to be helpful.

The clock behind was ticking, annoyingly reminding the presence of time that passes by.

Yet nothing.

This stupid thoughts started to infest his mind. You know, to make some tea. To have some tea.

Yet nothing by.

How hard it is to write at least one word?

Let’s see, you know this, take that pen.

“He…” you’re closer, now another one?

That’s not too bad.

You’ve started, that is something.

No please, no more tea. No coffee, begging you.

Just concentrate.

Yes! Concentrate! You can’t!?

That’s nonsense!

Just try at least, you’ll see. Don’t get me started. Try!

“He tried…” That’s better, what he tried? We went through this already.

Not nothing, can’t you see?

“He tried to concentrate.”

Well done! So, concentrate.