Update: With a little more than one month left of summer (sigh), I wanted to revisit our earlier post on writing goals. What did you set out to do back in May? What should you do in August to feel satisfied with your summer's work? For my part, I got that YA novel to my second reader, wrote tons of poems -- some of them not even terrible -- and just now remembered those short stories. Which I *may* have forgotten out of fear that they're not very good. So I'm glad to have had this accountability: I will be brave. I will revise. And now, what's still on your list?

In January I made some really lovely New Year's resolutions -- and then I blinked and it was June. So now I'm revisiting those resolutions for the summer, so that I'll be sure to make more progress than I did this spring. My main goal for the summer? To revise the beginning of my YA novel by the end of June, when my second reader is available, and then revise again for the fall. While I'm waiting for reader #2 to get back to me, I have two stories that also need revising, and I want to devote some serious time to poetry, which I haven't been able to do for a while.

For me, accomplishing goals is all about scheduling. Because I freelance, my schedule tends to change, but this summer, which unofficially begins tomorrow in the U.S., I have a big assignment that will span two or three months. With a fixed deadline so far out, I can set times for writing and work and stick to them. My plan is to write first thing in the morning, until 11:00, and Saturday afternoon, when possible. I'll let regular clients know that I won't be checking email until 11:00, and have a few blissful hours every day to focus on my own goals.

Are you also setting goals for the summer? What are you vowing to accomplish in the next few months? How do you go about making sure you meet your goals?

Photo: Thomas Northcut / Getty Images

This week's exercise, a favorite among writing teachers, was submitted by a reader last year. The instructions are to write a 100-word story composed only of one-syllable words. It's harder than it sounds -- see R. Garrett Wilson's tongue-in-cheek response from last summer in the comments section below.

Writing teachers swear that this prompt consistently generates the best student writing, perhaps because it forces writers to focus on the words most familiar to them, which often carry the most emotional significance. The exercise also heads off any desire to impress, so writers are more likely to write concretely about what they know. Read more about this in the headline link above. If you like what you come up with when you try the exercise, add your example below or post it to the general submissions page.

In recent essay in the New York Times, Gary Shteyngart laments his iPhone's effect on his attention span and talks about heading to some spot in Upstate New York where he can't get Internet access, so he can read and work on his next novel. Following on the heels of The Shallows, it got me thinking about the conscious effort many of us have to make in order to stay off the Web in order to spend prolonged time reading or writing. How many times do I find myself unsure of how to proceed with a story and switch over to Firefox for "research"? Or check email, not because I need to, but because I'm feeling bored or dissatisfied, and I'm craving that little jolt of adrenaline?

The Guardian recently covered the slow reading movement, which could make a certain amount of sense of writers (though do we really need a name for it?): if you can't slow down long enough to concentrate on reading a book, how will you concentrate on writing one? My mother-in-law will read a book through twice if she thinks it bears further thought or scrutiny, a practice I've picked up as well. And in a culture that values the accumulation of vast amounts of information, I resist the urge to read or be familiar with every new book. Wouldn't I rather give Anna Karenina one good, thoughtful read, than gobble down eight new books, none of which will leave a lasting impression?

I'm also trying to limit the number of times I check email in the day, challenging myself instead to sit with those feelings of boredom or dissatisfaction, to be curious about what might lay beyond them. Several of the writers who submitted to the Guardian's "Ten Rules for Writing Fiction" mentioned limiting internet use, and in an interview for this site, Jasper Fforde (pictured above) said he was in the process of building an office in his house where he would have only a word processor -- no Internet. Other writers employ software, like Freedom, which prevent them from accessing email or browsers for a given period of time. Implementing these practices means standing up to a certain amount of social pressure, though. People have come to think that if you're not available electronically, you're somehow not working. We have to strive to be those people who don't check email over the weekend, who take a walk instead, or who just sit and look out the window. Remember doing that? Remember the quality of our thoughts? What do we bring to the word processor if we haven't spent any time processing the world first?

What are you doing to protect your writing and reading time from technology? What are you doing to stretch your powers of concentration? (Though given the subject of this article maybe I shouldn't ask you to comment -- maybe I should ask you to just close the browser window!)

Earlier this month, reader allz28 started a thoughtful conversation in the forum regarding overused words. We all tend to fall back on certain words and phrases, and allz28 was astute enough to pick out her own verbal tick: "I'm currently editing my first novel and have encountered overuse of the word 'just.' It seems to show up at least once every two pages. I've been able to edit out a few (some by deleting and some by substituting other words), but most are more difficult. For example, deleting it from this sentence seems to change how far away the fence line is: 'In the distance, just beyond my headlight beams, was a tree-covered fence line.' I also find it a lot in dialogue. Example: 'Just tell me.' Editing it out seems to make the character's voice sound unrealistic. Deleting the word seems to make the sentence sound more like a demand than a plea. . . . "

Janalma responded: "I can suggest several alternatives to the problems you presented. Undoubtedly this is because I am not close to the story, as you are. I guess that is why feedback is important to us all. In these particular instances, you could use 'immediately,' as in 'immediately beyond my headlights . . . ' For 'Just tell me,' you might try, 'Tell me, okay?'"

I highlight the exchange because 1) it's a great example of how we can help each other as editors and 2) we will all discover instances of this in our writing at some point or other. These favorite phrases or words actually help us get that first draft out into the world -- they're part of our writing process. But in the editing stage, we have to be alert, as allz28 is, to our own habits. (The "find" option in Microsoft Word can be your friend here.) While you won't need to fix every occurrence, you don't want your reader to notice and be distracted, either. If you have a question as to whether or not your use of a word or phrase is problematic, then ask your reader(s) if they noticed it.

Have you pinpointed your fall-back phrases and words? How did you address them in your prose? Weigh in below, or add to the forum discussion.