PROVIDENCE — A total of four dozen fourth- and fifth-graders fanned out across the Rhode Island College campus. They sprawled on the lawn next to the Yellow Cottage, perched on wooden tables in an empty art classroom and paused briefly in front of an impromptu graffiti wall.

The students, all from the Henry Barnard School, which is at RIC, wrote furiously for 15 minutes, shared what they wrote and then meandered to the next spot somewhere on the sun-dappled campus.

At the same time, college students, many of them members of Writing 101, fanned out across the campus, stopping to write as individuals and as groups and then “sharing out,” as the process is called.

Welcome to Marathon Writing, which is sort of like speed dating for writers. Led by Richard Louth, a Brown University graduate and director of the Southeastern Louisiana Writing Project, students of all ages engaged in a three-hour bout of writing to mark the first National Day of Writing, a celebration of words that drew participants from public schools and universities across the country.

At RIC, the marathon was sponsored by the Rhode Island Writing Project, a professional organization for teachers whose purpose is to improve the teaching of writing.

Writing teachers say it should be a joyous affair, an adventure, a jump into the unknown. Too often, however, it is seen as a chore. Write to this length, about this subject, in this amount of time. The Writing Marathon frees the writer at the same time it roots him or her in a specific place.

On Tuesday, a group of college students wanted to sit in the bleachers but there was a “Keep Out” sign. That didn’t stop them, however. They simply removed the sign and climbed the stairs.

As Louth said, “There is this attitude of surprise, of not knowing where you are going or what you’re going to get.”

Unlike the adults, the fourth-graders’ imaginations were not limited by place. While sitting outside the Yellow Cottage, a former state orphanage, the children mused about so many things.

I want to climb that tree so badly, one child wrote.

Now, I know how hard ants work, another wrote.

A spring breeze blanketed my eyelashes.

I’d prefer to be eating a French baguette with melted butter and raspberry jam.

And one child simply wrote, Awkward.

Writing has long been considered a solitary act. Louth, however, believes that the buzz generated by a group of writers can be inspirational and transformative. There is much to be gleaned from the unexpected.

During his first marathon, in New Orleans, Louth led a group of writers to the levee. There, hemmed in by the cold, they asked a local restaurant if they could step inside. No, they were told. We’re closed. When informed that these were a group of writers, the owner relented and invited them to sit in front of the fire.

“It dawned on me,” Louth said, “how many people respect writers and the writing process.”

During his opening remarks, Louth told the fourth- and fifth-graders to turn to the person next to them and say, “I’m a writer!” A spontaneous hum of young voices filled the room.

“Go wherever your feet will take you,” he exhorted. “Write about whatever you want. Write, share and then say thank you.”

Like a rock concert or a wedding, a writing marathon can be magical. This is not about showing off who is the better writer; this is about writing for a welcoming audience.

A strange synchronicity can occur within a writing group. On Tuesday, for instance, two writers alluded to the Irish poet, W.B. Yeats, in their work.

At the end of the day, college students and members of the Rhode Island Writing Project gathered in the Student Union to share their experiences. One student recited a poem, another read snippets of her fifth-graders’ work and another mused about her retirement.

As the afternoon wound down, Louth asked everyone to promise to write every day.

“It will take you to a place you would never think you would go.”

lborg@projo.com