Write Things: On Something Left Behind

Hello writers,

I’m always amazed by the stories that emerge from the on-the-spot quick-writes in my writing groups. They’re often original, authentic, and quite poignant. It might be a line, a situation, or a feeling that grabs the table’s attention.

My favourite part is when the author is blown away by what they wrote. And this is a good reminder - creativity is an act of faith. We’re very much co-creators in the process. We show up, put the tip of the pen to the paper, and write what comes to us. 

Sometimes it’s profound. Sometimes it’s hilarious. And sometimes it’s ridiculous. 

The product of the quick-write isn’t what matters. It’s the process. 

This is how you develop self-trust and start to let go of the inner critic. 

Let’s do one together. 

4-Minute Quick-Write

Set a timer for four minutes.
Keep your pen moving the entire time—even when the words don’t feel ready or clear.
No analysis. No editing. No fixing.
Just write.

Prompt: Something left behind

Jennifer W.

Fay’s mother lay dead on a tiny bed in a spartan room. That’s all the space the nursing home allows; a tiny room for the even tinier moments left in one’s life. She had until noon to get everything out. One box was all it took to carry away an alarm clock, a half dozen photos of family members her mother had long since forgotten, and a tub of hand lotion. She bent low to check under the bed. Tucked far beneath was a faded red rose, plastic, dusty, and precious.

Tanus T.M.

They were sitting on a bench at the back of the restaurant on Corydon Ave when he finally broke the news to her. He was going to Spain for a year as an educational assistant.

“Yes, our relationship is new and important, but this is something I have wanted to do for a while. I put my name in for this opportunity months ago,” he sputtered on. “I didn’t know if I would be selected to participate or not.”

He paused to take a breath and looked up at his girlfriend sheepishly. How was she taking the news?

“Do you still want to stay together, or are we breaking up?” she asked timidly.

“Oh, definitely staying together if you are okay with it?” he replied.

She breathed deeply and tried to act casual. “Sure, that works for me.”

They got up at the same time and started towards his car. Little did she know she had left her cell phone sitting on the bench. She was just relieved she wasn’t being left behind as her boyfriend headed out into the world.

Kristin D.

It was a huge wood radio standing about four feet tall, with square punch buttons on the front and large speakers on either side going up half its height, underneath the two big brown knobs you turned—on/off and tuner. The golden Westinghouse logo sat beneath the needle of the dial. You would use the dial to tune in stations, and the display lit up when you turned it on. If you turned the whole big art-deco thing around, there was a cutout in the back where you could replace the tubes and other complicated electrical tech. That electrical stuff seemed to light up too.

It was bought used in about 1946. The brown wood was beautiful but showed scratches and wear from being used a lot. Dad used to keep it in the garage and turn the volume up when he was working on the car or doing yard work. He loved CBC classical and big band music. He didn’t mind hockey, news, or mystery radio plays either.

When my parents built the cabin in 1972–73, the radio found a new home. We didn’t have a TV out there, and we would tune in when it was raining.

Dad died too young in 1978. Mom sold the cottage in 1986 and most of its contents. It did not occur to me then that I would have loved to have had Dad’s radio. I could have asked for it, but I was too young to know better. I still think about that piece of furniture—how it was left behind and how it would have looked great in my home now. I would have cherished it.

I miss my Dad. I miss his radio.

Four Minutes Well Spent

Quick-writes work because they give your creativity a structure to enter. They lower the stakes, quiet the inner critic, and make it easier to begin. Over time, they also build trust—you start to recognize that something does arrive when you show up.

But consistency doesn’t usually come from inspiration alone.

Most writers who keep going eventually choose some form of scaffolding:
a regular rhythm, a shared container, an expectation that they’ll return to the page again next week.

Quick-writes are often the first step.
What comes next is deciding whether your writing matters enough to protect time and space for it.

That’s where writing groups can help.

In my 4-week online writing groups, we use weekly prompts like this one, along with a guided assignment designed to help you write:

• a brand-new personal or fictional piece, or
• the next section of a larger story you’re already working on

The goal isn’t productivity for its own sake.
It’s momentum, clarity, and learning how your writing actually lands with readers.

Registration for the current groups closes tonight at midnight.

If you’d like to learn more, you can find the details here:
👉 https://www.ihelpyouwritethings.com/writinggroups

If you have questions, you’re always welcome to reply to this email. I’m happy to talk it through.

Wishing you and your stories all the best,
Trevor Martens
Founder, I Help You Write Things

P.S. Powerful things can happen when writers who care about their work spend time together. Attention sharpens. Momentum builds. If you’re looking for a place to begin—or return to—that kind of connection, these writing groups are a good place to start.