When it comes to encouraging more sustainable behaviour, there are a few central messages that crop up time and again – recycle, turn off lights, shop locally etc…. As a writer, it can be difficult to get these important messages across in a meaningful way without resorting to language that’s been used many times before.

Sometimes, repetitious language is a strength – Reduce, Reuse, Recycle is a slogan that becomes stronger the more it’s reinforced. But more often, say if the message isn’t getting through or if a client wants to come up with something original, impact will only come if we find new ways to say old things.

The secret to this, according to business writer John Simmons, is to write within very strict constraints. At first, this seems counterintuitive – surely the greater the constraint the more limited you are in your creative options? Not so.

I’ve just finished reading Simmons’ excellent Twenty-six ways of looking at a blackberry. In each of his 26 chapters, he rewrites the ‘base text’ (a rather ordinary yearly report) while under the influence of 26 different constraints. We see the text:

• morphed into a country & western song – “And life moves on, it just moves on”;
• reduced to a single ‘last line’ – “Z is the end, but in the end is a beginning. Continue”;
• crafted into a Greek myth – Telethe transforms a pebble “into an icon that could speak and listen from afar”;
• …and squeezed into a series of six word stories – “Look. Ask. Find answers. Buy. Sell.”

Each constraint brings something new to the table. Whether it’s a clever word play or an idea turned upside down, writing with your hands metaphorically tied can liberate your creativity.

Throughout our literary heritage, writers have written within constraints. For every set of brand guidelines you encounter, Shakespeare risked torture if he criticised the crown; for every word count you wrestle with, Wilde risked imprisonment if he misjudged his double-entendres. For these writers, the result was usually a thrilling combination of more technically complex structure and a mastery of language play.

Can you rise to your challenges in the same way?

The next time you’re facing a blank page, an unimaginative brief or a bit of writer’s block, take a leaf out of Simmons’ book and get those creative juices flowing by giving yourself a new type of challenge.

To get you started, here’s a constraint for the comments: can you write one of those messages from the first paragraph (recycle, turn off lights, shop locally) as a haiku? Quick refresh: a haiku has three lines, five, seven and five syllables long; it should nod to a season and have a break either between the first two lines and the third, or the first line and the last two.

Here’s my attempt:

As the days pinch tighter,

We bring our own light to life.

But enough’s enough.