500 Words in 15 Minutes: How I Stopped Editing My Thoughts and Started Writing

For years, I thought I was just a slow writer. Like, snail crawling through a desert slow. I’d spend hours trying to pump out a thousand words, berating myself the whole time. And since patience has never been my strong suit, the frustration was real.

Here I was—an aspiring writer with hundreds of story ideas—but barely able to squeeze out 500 words a day without wanting to chuck my laptop at the wall. (Figuratively, of course. My laptop is sacred!)

But years later, I discovered a tool that completely flipped that belief. And suddenly? I wrote 500 words in 15 minutes. Just like that.

This wasn’t just a productivity hack—it was a mindset shift that changed the way I write. And maybe by the end of this post, you’ll find something that works for you too.

The ‘Slow Writer’ Syndrome

My writing process used to be simple:

Open the laptop or notebook.

Stare at the blank page.

Maybe type a sentence or two.

Stare some more.

Check the clock.

Hey, what do you know—three hours gone.

Naturally, I assumed I was just a slow writer. I mean, what else could explain spending hours in front of a blinking cursor while a full-blown storm brewed in my head? I'd second-guess every word, rewrite the same sentence six times, and let perfectionism choke out anything remotely creative. It had to be perfect—even in the first draft.

Case in point: While writing my debut novel, Firsthand, I once spent an entire hour—yes, a full 60 minutes—trying to decide between “a” or “the.” Not a sentence. Not a paragraph. Just… a or the. And no, that’s not an exaggeration. I wish it was.

As you can probably guess, what was supposed to be a quick two-week editing session turned into two months of obsessive micro-decisions. And even after the book was published, it took every ounce of willpower not to sneak in and tweak a comma.

This became a cycle I just accepted. I told myself I wasn’t fast. I wasn’t built for those high word counts. Other writers must’ve had some magical Stephen King productivity DNA I missed out on.

It wasn’t until this year that I finally said, enough. I needed to quiet the noise in my head and actually push through, because gosh darn it, I was going to write!

So I did what every desperate writer does—I Googled my way out.

And that’s when I found a little tool that changed everything.

Write or Die

You heard me. Write or Die.

It’s—well, it was—a writing tool that basically terrorized you into productivity. Stop typing, and the screen would flash red. Alarms would blare. Sometimes an image of a spider would pop up. (Yes, a spider. I hate those things.)

And if you were feeling brave—or unhinged—there was even a mode that started erasing your words if you paused too long. (Needless to say, I left that setting off. My words are precious. I suffer for them!)

Anyway, note how I said “was.” It used to be a downloadable software, but it’s pretty much gone now, unless you’ve got some back-alley torrent or a dusty USB from 2012.

Luckily, I found an alternative—Write Or… which is practically the same thing (minus the “Die”... and the spider). Same forced speed, pressure, and no time for my overthinking brain to take the wheel.

So, I tried it out.

A simple 3-minute session.

Heart racing. Fingers flying. Brain screaming.

When the timer notification popped up, I looked down: 174 words.

I was stunned. I figured it was a fluke. Just random gibberish I spewed about bananas and Pokémon, right? Surely none of it was usable.

So I went again. This time, for 15 minutes, using a real scene from one of my short stories.

No time to second-guess. No time to edit. No time to think.

Just go.

And then…

544 words.

I stared at the screen like it had slapped me in the face. No way. No way I just wrote that much in that little time.

What if I did that every day? What if I wrote 1,000 words an hour? Maybe even 2,000?

I sat there, giddy with excitement, one thought spinning in my head:

Why didn’t I try this sooner?

Epiphany

I’ve tried Pomodoro timers before. You know, 25 minutes on, 5 minutes off. But it never hit the same. It lacked urgency. There was no panic, no chaos, no sense of "Oh god, go faster."

But Write or Die?

That was different. That’s what finally made it click.

I wasn’t slow. I was paralyzed by perfectionism.

I had spent years confusing deliberation with depth, and hesitation with care. I thought staring at a screen for three hours meant I was being thoughtful. No. I was just overthinking myself into a wordless corner. I had to cut the noise. Get out of my head. Stop editing before there was even something to edit. I had to let the messy, intuitive, unfiltered stuff spill onto the page. Because you can’t shape clay that doesn’t exist. You can’t edit a blank page.

The best writing doesn’t happen when I’m thinking. It happens when I’m spilling.

Strategies for Other Overthinkers

Now, I know not everyone vibes with Write or Die. Some people find it exhilarating. Others find it straight-up stressful. Totally fair. So here are some strategies that I’ve tried—or am still trying—that help me fight back against my overthinking habits:

1. Timed Writing Sprints

Use tools like Write or Die, 4thewords, or just a basic timer. Treat it like a game. Race the clock. Bribe yourself with snacks. Do whatever it takes to make writing feel more like playing and less like performance.

2. Messy First Drafts Only

Give yourself permission to write ugly. Like, embarrassingly ugly. This blog post? I drafted in 30 minutes. It was a hot mess. But it got done. And now you’re reading the polished version. Progress is greater than perfection.

3. Talk It Out

Use voice memos or voice-to-text to bypass your inner critic. Try talking through your story like you're telling it to a friend—or better yet, embody your character and talk as them. Bad accents and dramatic flair encouraged. :D Be as silly or serious as you want. No one’s watching.

4. Editing Quarantine

Don’t let yourself edit for X days/weeks. Just draft.

And if you're someone who needs to edit as you go? Fine. But set a rule: no editing until you've hit 500 words or whatever your daily word count goal is. Keep the momentum. Don’t kill the vibe mid-flow.

5. Write with Constraints

Sometimes, freedom is the enemy. Set a word count goal. Use a prompt. Give yourself only 10 minutes. Limitations can box your inner perfectionist into a corner—and that's when the real creativity sneaks out.

6. Name Your Inner Editor

Seriously. Give them a name. Tell it to chill. Mine’s called Kathrine. She wears fake pearls and judges everything I write. But she’s not allowed in the room until the first draft is done. Make your editor clock in after the creative part is over.

7. Practice Typing

Sometimes what feels like “slow writing” is actually just… slow typing.

My mom made me and my brother practice typing every summer growing up, and while it was brutal at the time, I thank her now. Typing fast makes a big difference when you're trying to outrun your own self-doubt.

If you’re just starting out, check out typing.com—it's a solid tool for beginners. (Disclaimer: I haven’t used this one personally; I was clacking keys on some mystery software back in 2010.)

8. Write Out the Noise

When all else fails, dump your brain on the page. Literally.

Write out every anxious, spiraling thought until it’s all in front of you. Most of the time, it’s not as complicated as it felt. Getting it out clears the mental fog and makes room for your story to speak.

Your Permission Slip

Despite all this, I’m still learning. Still untangling years of perfectionist wiring. My brain doesn’t magically stay quiet now—sometimes it still clogs up like a traffic jam during rush hour. My fingers stall. I hesitate. But I’m getting better at noticing it. And when I do, I remind myself:

No. I choose to say what I have to say. Even if it’s messy. Even if it’s rough. Even if it’s just 500 crooked little words I’ll have to fix later. Because now, I write faster. I worry less. I trust that clarity comes during revision, not the first pass. The first draft isn’t a masterpiece. It’s a blueprint. A messy, beautiful mess of a blueprint. (Blueprints I proudly display on my "Blueprint Bookshelf").

So, if you think you’re a slow writer, you might just be stuck in your own head, like I was.

This is your permission slip. To write bad sentences. To spill chaotic thoughts. To choose momentum over mastery. Your thoughts are meant to move. Let them out before you make them pretty.

I’m not writing this as someone who’s figured it all out. I’m writing it as someone who’s finally figuring out what works for me. And if that helps you? Even better.