writing exercise

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Wait…you’re also a lyricist?

Your friendly neighborhood writer with the Prince symbol on his face.

Like a lot of creative people, I’m curious about varying mediums and challenging myself. Until recently, I hadn’t shared the lyrical side of my repertoire, but yeah, I’ve written a few songs. It has always been about entertaining myself, exploring other kinds of writing, and keeping my skills sharp.

Genres include hip hop in the style of Prince’s 90s NPG era, hardcore punk, and country. All of that is going to be a surprise to people who know me.

Wanting to focus more on my novels, I hadn’t been putting effort into doing more with my lyrics nor have I spent much free time working on them. Writing is a job, after all, and you want to put the most time into the most viable projects. Suddenly, however, maybe I did.

As I’ve written recently in Collaboration like peanut butter and chocolate, Sharing is caring…and inspiring, and Writing Exercise – An unexpected prompt, I’ve unexpectedly found myself as one half of a songwriting duo.

So I started writing more songs. A lot more. In the last six weeks, I’ve started 25, completing 10. My partner has written new music for at least four songs, though honestly, his feels like the more difficult and time-consuming part of the deal.

Already, we have 2 songs that I’m absolutely thrilled with, even if we’ve got some work to do. The musical arrangement took lyrics I was happy with and turned them into songs I think are really special: the sad, haunting Let Me Down Easy and the powerful love song Did You Run?

Here are the other eight I’ve submitted to him:

  • YOU’RE OTHER – hardcore punk song yelling at the bigots
  • The Coyotes Roam But They Ignore The Bones – folk song about 2 murdered girls hidden at a New Mexico ranch
  • Together and Apart – two people who stayed together longer than they should have
  • A Day Survived Is Yesterday – sometimes you just need to get through that dark day
  • I’m Leaving You Behind – a person leaves the love who’s using them
  • Unrequited – an infatuated person slowly comes to terms with their one-sided love
  • Black Dog, Cry – a take on the Beatles’ Black bird (yeah, I know) about a sleeping dog who wakes at the sound of an intruder and alerts her family to danger
  • The Garden Bloom – a person is emerging from the darkness of a breakup

Are all of them viable? Who can say! The wonderful thing about collaboration is sparking ideas in each other. As an example, the first music pass at Did You Run? transformed it from a song about a person lamenting a one-night stand to a duet about two people wishing they hadn’t gone their separate ways after meeting on their vacations. Creation is about possibilities, not about sticking to a destination before you know where you really need to go.

Even if all these songs end up falling short of our high standards, we’re on a journey of discovery and learning. And we’ve got plenty of other viable material to work with. Most importantly, we’re having fun collaborating and filling our spare time with something that delights our souls.

Good luck with your own creative endeavors!

–Mike

PS: I’ve added the lyrics work to my Progress Tracker, a calendar that captures changes I’m making to my various creative projects.

(C) Michael Wallevand, June 2026

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Writing Exercise – An unexpected prompt

“Mike, try to think of one of the most insane things that could happen…” the text conversation began.

Turns out, that’s EXACTLY the kind of writing prompt I LOVE. And even better, he didn’t want to share the experience until our next call.

“You should write a three paragraph story of what you think happened.”

It’s like someone gave him a manual for hacking my writer’s brain.

Front page of the Roswell Daily Record, reporting a UFO crash in 1947.

I replied that writing was the easy part, but expected I wouldn’t be anywhere near the mark for what actually happened. In much of my writing, I tend to drift into fantastical situations or absurdity, and I’m usually not interested in reining myself in.

I was waiting for the school bus, so I started telling myself a story similar to the 1947 Roswell UFO crash, but in his neighboring state instead of New Mexico. However, it immediately became clear that he was bursting to share, even if he was keeping the full story secret until we could talk.

“It involves death, prison, and six hours at the animal care center.”

WOW. OK, no aliens. For now.

I’ve had conversations like this before, if not with details as intriguing as this, and I’ve found that including some personal info is a great way to draw the person into the brief story I’m crafting for them. It’s same reason I first considered a regional event like Roswell. I set the aliens idea aside and let those three details form a kind of movie for my mind’s eye.

Fifteen minutes later, I had this.

A Day of Troubles

Saturday. Bright. Warm but not too hot. One of the best kinds of days to say goodbye. Little did we know, God had more than one kind of farewell on the agenda.

Scratch that. There’s no way we could have had even the smallest inkling, but I get ahead of myself.

The day of my mother-in-law’s funeral had finally arrived. I say ‘finally’ because the disease had taken a long, tortuous route toward the final conclusion. But as I stated above, it was a good day – the kind she would have liked. One where we might have had lunch as a family in the park, or perhaps spent some time hiking in the desert foothills.

We were both drained and energized in a way that only funerals make a person feel. You reconnect with so many people and share so many wonderful stories. You also laugh more than you anticipate. And yet, you have to be on the whole day. It’s like you’ve adopted a persona that people expect to see: someone strong and well-adjusted. They don’t want to see behind the mask you wear, even though they wouldn’t be surprised because they’ve worn that mask, too.

Afterwards, we enjoyed the weather like she would have wanted us to: my wife, myself, and our dog, Trouble. He’s quite empathetic for a dog, and he seemed to be behaving out of respect for us. Until he wasn’t.

On our way home from the park, he caught me off-guard as he chased a rodent or something under a car. Before I could blink, I lost the leash, he scurried under the car, and disappeared on the other side.

We searched for hours, considering ourselves fortunate that we could follow the occasional bark or curse words that chased him as he scampered through people’s yards.

Dusk approached, heralding more than the night. Ahead lay the state prison, and it was lit up like a city under siege. We’d later learn that Trouble had discovered a hidden tunnel under the fences, and that three inmates had discovered Trouble.

What happens next? I have no idea. It’s an unedited draft of an idea that simply flowed from brain to page. It might never be fleshed out. Despite that, conscious writing decisions were made.

The story begins with a mix of emotions and proceeds at a slow pace, which was deliberate so I could ramp up the action or whatever absurdity my writer brain could conjure. I’m building toward something, even if I don’t know that is.

This brings me to another decision: while there’s nothing particularly profound about these 350 words, I’ve left myself an intriguing mystery to help spark inspiration, should I ever go back to it. It’s a writing technique I developed to help me on those days when my creative tank is running low. To learn more, check out Set Yourself Mysteries.

Cover of a Mad Libs book

It reminds me of another creative exercise I did in college after I changed my major from computer programming to writing. I’d tell someone to give me three details, usually something like a name, a place, and an event, and then I’d spend ten or fifteen minutes telling a story I was making up on the spot. Call it “reverse Mad Libs”. In hindsight, I was teaching myself a way to organize my thoughts around a few key details.

I share these techniques as examples of the tools in my writer’s toolbox. Even when I’m enjoying a simple writing exercise, I’m using these tools without having to think about them. It means the creativity flows better and the effort of writing is more joy than work.

Good luck with your writing!

–Mike

(C) Michael Wallevand, June 2026

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Writing Exercise – The An-Teak Desk

A writer never knows when inspiration will arrive or from where. Because algorithm, I stumbled upon the podcast of a friend’s wife. It was a clip in which she discussed junk drawers with her friend. They laughed in delight at the idea of the drawer opening up like the wardrobe to Narnia.

An hour later, I had 1,700 words.

Jammie, so nicknamed for her love of footie pajamas, followed her brother Matt up the dim creaking stairs, her eyes fixed on the close-cropped black hair that had earned the slender boy a moniker of his own. “Gramma missed a spot, Matchstick,” she teased, pointing at the tuft on his head.

He reached back and felt for the place, his lips hissing a derisive sound when he found it. “That’s my lucky spot. She says if you find one of those, you’ll be lucky ‘til your next haircut.”

“I think that’s one of those things grown-ups say to hide their mistakes,” she retorted.

He looked over his shoulder as they neared the top of the stairs. “With all that reading you do, I can’t believe you’ve never heard of that.”

“You read as much as I do and I bet you’ve never heard of it, either.”

The dark shape of the heavy oak door emerged from the shadows before them, a dull brass doorknob reflecting the oil lamp at the bottom of the stairs. Instead of reaching for the knob, he turned and looked down at her. “You read way more than I do.”

“Yeah, but you read en-cy-clo-pedias,” she replied, drawing out the enunciation as a sign of reverence. She’d always wanted to enjoy them – knowledge was important, her daddy advised – but she just didn’t have the head for it, her grandma said.

“I didn’t have a choice, you know.”

“But you like them now, right?”

He stared at his sister, her face aglow with wonder and curiosity. Her eyes could drink in all the details of the world, and still her inquisitiveness would not be sated. “I guess. They’re now like reading an old story you know by heart.”

“I know all about that. My books never showed me that symbol you found, though. My stories are all made up, and writers are liars.”

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Writing Exercise: Use Your College Knowledge

This website is dedicated to my novels and the writing process, as well as advocacy for human rights.

A college buddy recently re-entered my life on Facebook, mocking my alarm at the emboldened fascism of the new U.S. administration.

I didn’t know the Jews r worried Elon and Trump are vicious Nazis who will gas chamber them and other inferior minorities? Man will the hispanics and the blacks be pissed because they sure voted a lot for Trump. Wouldn’t that be ironic?

He probably doesn’t know that I studied so much history during our college days, with a focus on the rise of fascism in the 20th Century, that I accidently got a second major for my bachelor’s degree. I’ve walked through concentration camps. I’ve stood in the gas chambers. Something awful still lingers there, as does a tragedy for which Humankind has no words. So instead of responding with equal sarcasm, and ignoring how he unconsciously described minorities as “inferior”, I put my degree to use.

The quarantine yard at Mauthausen, one of the most sickeningly brutal concentration camps.

It doesn’t start with gas chambers. We all know this.

Like all successful bullies, the Authoritarian is more cunning than intelligent, recognizing that threats, bombast, and lies will be more effective than reason. In this way, he camouflages his weakness and impotence as a strength that people truly believe.

And to be perceived as strong, the bully picks on the weak. They are but the backs that must be trodden on the climb to power. The Undesirables must be identified. The Other. They are named Enemies to give the people something to rally around. It is better to be one of Us than one of Them. And the People buy into it because they respect and fear and covet the Power. More often than not, they are the regular people and the downtrodden, not those marching with torches or hanging nooses from trees. Over and again, they have been told they are powerless – these Enemies have taken their power, their jobs, their money, and the lives of their fellow citizens. The People used to be great, but no longer. Convinced, they actually relinquish power and critical thinking for pretty promises that their lives will improve. Promises without a plan, though like all great salespeople, he’s manufactured a need in people for the thing he’s selling.

And lo, their salvation is at hand.

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Writing Exercise – Say Meaningful Things
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Writing Exercise – Say Meaningful Things

On May 25, 2020, a police officer murdered George Floyd, a suspect in his custody. As a reminder to Americans, we are all innocent until proven guilty in a court of law.

On May 26, peaceful protests began.

On May 27, peaceful protests continued. Eventually, rioters and outside agitators burned a Minneapolis neighborhood.

On May 28, I wrote this piece. Then I put it aside, unwilling to work further on such a heavy topic.

On November 20, 2024, I rediscovered it. I’m now sharing as part of my month of gratitude and my greater commitment to writing meaningful things.

Sometimes, there are no words.

You want there to be, but they fail.

You hope that you can say that genuine thing to alleviate someone’s pain.

Put an end to suffering.

Quell the madness.

Turns minds away from bigotry.

But there are no words

Tonight as Minneapolis burns.

The writer prides himself on turns of phrase

On vocabulary

On finding the perfect way to state a thing

But the practice, the tools, the tricks

They fail because there are no words.

A word typed

A thought, aloud.

These things are too small for a situation too large.

They are noise.

They are nothing.

Worthless thoughts shouted into the face of the heedless storm.

One day again

The words will come. But today, there are no words

Many of us are grateful that events like this are not part of our world, though we are too ashamed to say it aloud. We need to find our voices. The world becomes a better place when the meaningful things drown out the oppressors’ noise. Please take this encouragement to contribute your own meaningful things.

Thank you for reading. Hug your loved ones this holiday weekend.

–Mike

(C) Michael Wallevand, November 2024

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Writing Exercise – Gratitude

It’s very easy in a job – in any job – to get hung up on all the things you’d love to change. Or to get dragged into negativity when simple commiseration with colleagues descends into toxic complaint sessions. Having worked in a wide variety of roles, including food processing, lab assistant, retail, and several corporate jobs, I can attest that it happens everywhere.

My work division (FindLaw, a part of Thomson Reuters) is being sold to another company, and the watercooler talk runs the gamut of perspectives and opinions, which means if we’re not careful, we could spiral into endless negativity. The stress is high, and many have an irrational fear of the unknown.

What’s helpful for me, and what I’m recommending to all my mentees, is a pros/cons list. It perhaps sounds cliché, but it’s still incredibly effective. While pay, merit increases, and advancement opportunities are important, they’re not the reason I stay with a company. For me, a flexible working schedule is paramount.

My younger son, Benji, has severe autism. Sleep is a recurring issue for him. Some nights, he’s just awake. He’s somehow powered through his nighttime meds and can’t fall asleep again. One night becomes two becomes a week or more. There’s a compounding effect to this, meaning some of his behaviors are worsened, which creates difficulties at school or elsewhere in public. There have been days where I have to drop everything and run to school to bring him home.

At a recent social hour at the office, several colleagues asked how our family was doing.

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Writing Exercise – Don’t Write Yourself Off

Mike Wallevand on high school graduation day at 135 pounds

I hadn’t worked out in 28 years.

I graduated high school a skinny 5’11”, 135-pound basketball player who’d spent his childhood with a ridiculous metabolism. For many of us, things changed in college. Four years later, I’d gained 30 pounds. It wasn’t muscle. Those size 32 pants were a bit snug.

Fast forward nearly twenty years – around 2015 – I stopped checking my weight. A scale displaying 220+ pounds wasn’t something I wanted to see any more. I had more willpower for that than to make any meaningful lifestyle change, and my weight continued to increase.

Collage of Mike at his heaviest

In fact, the only real change I would make was cutting out soda and trying to walk the dogs more. From 2012-2017, I lost maybe 10-15 unremarkable pounds. I certainly didn’t feel any better, physically, mentally, or emotionally.

My wardrobe also remained the same: layers of bulky clothes to hide rolls, folds, and not-quite-manboobs. My shirts were XL and my pants were 38 waist. The collars of dress shirts were hangman’s knots and suitcoats were sausage casings.

Five years ago, in early 2019, I was invited to a class at a local boxing club. Did I mention I hadn’t worked out in 28 years? I found workouts boring. Or intimidating: I didn’t want to be the fat bald guy in a massive fitness center who was wheezing on a treadmill or struggling under weights. And if that were true, punching something for an hour was certainly far outside my interest, not to mention my personality.

Coming into the class, I didn’t expect anything to change, even if a small voice between my ears told me that I really, really needed an exercise routine. But I’d been ignoring that guidance my entire adult life.

In that first 1-hour class, I thought I was going to die.

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Writing Exercise: Monday Positivity

I’ve been trying to work on my positivity.

Correction, I’ve been working on my positivity.

CORRECTION: I have improved my positivity.

It’s tough. I have a pragmatic, neurodiverse, and often all-or-nothing view of the world. I like to identify problems and find creative ways to fix them. I’ve often said that the old Lexus commercials of the 1990s especially resonated with me.

a car with martini glasses stacked in a pyramid on its hood
Lexus: The Relentless Pursuit of Perfection

As I’ve matured, I’ve come to understand that this also creates the relentless pursuit of imperfection. Nothing is ever good enough, which often means, things remain bad until they are. It’s a helluva thing to overcome to publish a book. But if I put my “reason mind” to work (If you want to publish, you have to stop puttering about), it begins to drown out the “emotion mind” that’s often loudest in my head (Just one more edit and it’ll be perfect. Just one more. You’re so close. But just one more.)

This morning, I was looking for a way to start my Monday with a positive attitude, which is tough for many of us. Part of our social contract in America is commiserating over the start of the work week. It’s probably a multi-million dollar industry, when you consider all the merchandise dedicated to grumpy Mondays.

I thought back to how good my Friday was. It started with this: A Day Bright, and Full of Promise. It was a simple writing exercise that got my brain moving, and the creative outlet got those feel-goods coursing through my veins.

Instead of simply jumping into work, with who knows what surprises awaiting me, I took a few minutes to jot this down in a coffee shop.

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Writing Exercise: A Day Bright and Full of Promise

It was time for the school bus. Following Benji, I stepped into a beautiful Autumn morning. As though someone spoke to me, this line popped into my head.

A day bright, and full of promise

I stopped in my tracks, my brain beginning to answer the question I no longer had to consciously put into words: “What happens next?” Even after so many years of writing, I continue to be surprised by the amount of creativity sparked by that simple question. Most notably, What if I paused my writing about the lost prince and started a female-centric story about his sister?

It’s a tip I use not only for writing, but in my office job, as well. “OK, we have an issue. What happens next? And then what?” And so on.

The following is about 2 minutes’ work. It’s a minor piece of writing, but I wanted to capture it because it helped inspire me. It’s about having days ahead of you that you want to spend writing. It’s the promise that you’ll create something worthwhile. It’s the power of positive thinking, if you will.

It’s Hope.

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I Still Owe Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis An Apology
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I Still Owe Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis An Apology

It was late 1998. I worked for the Suncoast Motion Picture Company, which sold movies and related merchandise. I’d recently transferred from the flagship Mall of America store to the Southdale Mall in Edina. The commute was longer, but I didn’t mind for a couple reasons. The one I’ll articulate here pertains to the clientele.

The Mall of America location was great for people watching. At the time, tourists came from around the world to see the spectacle of the largest mall in the Western Hemisphere. But Southdale, due to the prestige of Edina, attracted a number of celebrities. I was thrilled to learn Janet Jackson (whom I’ll call Ms. Jackson cuz I’m nasty) shopped there when she was in town. And she bought her movies from Suncoast.

The Suncoast where I was now a manager.

In 1998, I was still that small-town kid who’d grown up in a town so tiny it was technically a village. I’d never met a celebrity, and the prospect of meeting Ms. Jackson, someone whose music I absolutely loved, hyped me to a ridiculous degree. I’m embarrassed to admit that I was on the lookout on many shifts.

I grew up loving her albums Control and Rhythm Nation 1814, the latter of which I owned. Back in 1990, I knew everything about that album. You see, I didn’t have many albums as a kid, so when I got a new one, I poured through the liner notes, sitting cross-legged on my bedroom floor beside my cassette deck. I memorized the lyrics, tracked the music labels, and learned about every musician or other person connected with the production of the album.

If you’re familiar with Janet’s music, the headline of this post is beginning to make sense.

Back to 1998. I’m working the checkout in our third-floor location, when two well-dressed men came in. I offered the usual greetings, made small talk, and helped them as best I could.

These two gentlemen were Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis. And they were aware that I didn’t recognize them.

It must have been an unusual experience, especially in the Minneapolis area. Here’s why.

When it comes to the Minneapolis music scene, it didn’t get much bigger than this duo. They formed the band Flyte Tyme, which became The Time under the influence of Prince, and the group would go on to help define the Minneapolis sound in the early 1980s.

After being fired from the band, they started Flyte Tyme Studios, and their partnership went on to earn more than 100 gold, platinum, multi-platinum, and diamond albums. Over their storied career, they’ve worked with some of the biggest names in the biz, including Lionel Richie, Herb Alpert, TLC, Michael Jackson, Aretha Franklin, Boyz II Men, Usher, Patti LaBelle, Mary J. Blige, Chaka Khan, Mariah Carey, Bryan Adams, Spice Girls, Vanessa Williams, Rod Stewart, Gwen Stefani, and New Edition. I particularly loved George Michael’s “Monkey” and The Human League’s “Human” songs. But those weren’t the only memorable tracks.

Forty-one of their songs reached the Top 10 of the Billboard Hot 100. They won five Grammys and got an Oscar nom for their work with Janet Jackson on the song “Again” for the movie Poetic Justice.

EDINA, MN – SEPTEMBER 1989: Singer Janet Jackson poses for photos with music producers Terry Lewis and Jimmy Jam during the opening of Flyte Tyme Studios in Edina, Minnesota in September 1989. (Photo By Raymond Boyd/Getty Images)

And speaking of Ms. Jackson, they won a Grammy for producing her album Control. Their follow-up collaboration, Rhythm Nation 1814, dominated the charts with seven hit singles and became one of the biggest albums in the world from 1989-91.

Most of that album work had been done at Flyte Tyme Studios, a convenient 5-minute drive from Southdale.

As I look back upon their visit to my store, I like to imagine these world-renown producers were taking a shopping break from their busy studio schedule. Perhaps, the perfect movie would be a nice diversion, or provide some inspiration for the their next movie project. Little did they know they were talking to a guy who knew every beat and could sing every lyric from Rhythm Nation 1814, many of which they’d written.

A guy’s whose memory was about to betray him, despite his brain containing most of the information I just shared.

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