The Ten-Minute Bullet

In tenth grade, my English teacher, Mr. Nelson, gave the class an assignment every Monday. He called it the ten-minute bullet. The rules were simple: take a piece of paper and a pencil, and write for ten minutes without stopping. Do not edit. Do not worry about grammar or spelling. Just write. Over the course of the week, we would take that mess and shape it into something readable. We did this every week for a semester.

I hated it then, and writing still is not my favorite activity today. It is a chore, plain and simple. I have children who can produce an essay at the drop of a hat. That is not me. I struggle every time I sit down to write.

That said, doing it every week did something. By the time I reached college, where APA-style essays were the currency of my major (if I have to type “he or she” one more time in my life, I will scream, and if you know, you know), the habit had already worn a groove. Blank page syndrome still finds me more often than I would like, but it finds me less often than it used to.

Part of the reason I am writing this blog at all is to get back into that habit. Most of my writing these days is business correspondence, which does not exactly stretch a voice. I am still figuring out what “From the Table” sounds like when it is mine and not a template. The only way I am going to get better at writing a blog is by writing a blog, even on the weeks I do not feel like I have anything worth saying.

(For what it is worth, this is one of those weeks. I am deep in Gen Con prep right now, printing terrain, painting miniatures, rereading adventures until I could run them blind. That is where most of my brain lives at the moment.)

The same logic applies to running games. The only way to get better at being a GM is by running games. Not reading about, or watching other people, running games, although that helps. Running them, badly at first, and looking back at yourself with a critical eye afterward. That kind of review stings a little, but it means you are learning. It means you are getting better.

If you are thinking about sitting behind the screen for the first time and running your own table instead of always sitting at someone else’s, this is your nudge. Most players do not bite. Most tables are more forgiving than the horrid scenario of rule-lawyers that is running in your head beforehand. Look around at how many people are out there giving GM advice, and you will notice something: everyone wants you to succeed.

So here it is: my ten-minute bullet. A little bit of noise, and maybe, if I am lucky, a little bit of advice buried inside it.