Twist the Tomato Timer
October 22, 2026
By Whitney Collins, Associate Programs Director and fiction faculty
You’ve likely heard of the Pomodoro Technique, the 1980’s time-management method founded by college student Francesco Cirillo, who used a tomato-shaped kitchen timer to divide his studies into manageable twenty-five-minute intervals. It’s popular for good reason (it’s scientifically proven to help with focus and productivity), but if you’re anything like me, it always felt a little gimmicky or forced for something as organic as creative writing.
Still, despite my reservations, after I completed my Spalding MFA in 2018 and was out in the real world feeling spooked about maintaining a writing practice, the Pomodoro Technique piqued my interest. So, I put it to the test with mixed results. It did feel a little too prescriptive and choppy for day-to-day writing, but over the years, I have discovered that in three specific writerly predicaments, it’s exceptionally useful. I employ it as a “mind-eraser,” for dreaded prompts, and when I have absolutely no idea how to end a story.
In The Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron describes a process (that you are also likely familiar with) called “Morning Pages,” wherein a writer rises every morning and clears their mind with three longhand pages. I’m not very good at following rules first thing in the morning (other than those related to the mechanics of a coffee maker), but I’ve found that doing something similar, after I’ve had some caffeine, works wonders when my brain is feeling particularly clogged. I twist my tomato timer to twenty-five, grab an old notebook, and for just under half an hour, I don’t lift pen from the paper. Most of the time, the result is gibberish or grocery lists or grievances; very little can be repurposed into a story. But every time, my mind is left decluttered and fresh . . . ready to attempt something coherent and creative.
Writing prompts. I love to assign them, don’t particularly look forward to participating in them. And I’m not sure why, as I’ve had a few stories published that were the end-product of an initial twenty-five-minute prompt. So I’m very much indebted to the process for resulting in some of my better work, but I have to force myself to do it. Enter that cute tomato timer. Once a month, challenge yourself to a timed session with a theme or word to get you started. You’ll probably find something interesting and unexpected comes of it. Often, after the ding, I twist the timer for another twenty-five-minute session or two to continue with what’s come forth. If you’ve been feeling uninspired or unproductive, I always find there’s a lot of immediate gratification with this process.
Finally, I have found the Pomodoro Technique to be perfect for wrapping up a piece of work that’s been sitting unfinished on my desktop. There’s something about a ticking timer that can light a fire under you. When I used to write freelance nonfiction and was up against deadlines, that urgency made me write in the same way a Spalding packet’s due date did: in a manner compelled less by overthinking and more by “just get it done! ASAP!” Try this method to whip out an ending to a poem, story, essay, or scene as if your life depended on it. Oftentimes, this sort of deadline drama, where you stop weighing all the possibilities and start thinking about turning something in, is exactly what the doctor ordered.
Hopefully, you’ll find the Pomodoro Technique helpful in these three instances or ones you discover on your own. And if the method doesn’t work for you, you’re left with an adorable kitchen gadget that (almost) gives the Keurig a run for its money.
Whitney Collins is the author of BIG BAD and RICKY & OTHER LOVE STORIES. She’s the recipient of a Pushcart Prize, a Best American Short Stories Distinguished Story, and the American Short(er) Fiction Prize. She serves as the Associate Programs Director and is on the fiction faculty for the Naslund-Mann Graduate School of Writing.