Paint drying. Waiting in line.
Let’s come up with the most boring premises imaginable, and then together transform them into stories that are (somehow) actually interesting!
During the last stream, a subscriber requested that we write stories where we make boring ideas interesting.
Chat came up with a bunch of horrifically boring story ideas, then voted for the ones they liked best.
The first winner was: Sleeping, but not dreaming.
Here’s what we came up with:
What is art but dreams given form. Honesty in its purest. Realism unbound by reality, stripped from the needs of survival. The true soul of mortals captured in paint, music and dance.
And for someone else who used to be me, in words.
No more dreams. I’m all dried up. The wonderful places I’d travel in those hours of unconsciousness, adding years to my life. Burnt away to less than ashes.
I’d liked to imagine myself a vessel of impossible realities, trying to carve their echoes into the minds of readers. But how could I describe worlds I couldn’t even see anymore?
The white void of a blank document burned my eyes weary of this waking, dreamless sleep. So blinding, their emptiness. Hello brightness, my new friend. Tell me how to describe the music of silence.
Can nothing inspire something? Without dreams, I don’t give form to anything. Can no one inspire someone?
Perhaps that itself is art.
What is death but dreamless sleep. Life in its purest. Memories unbound by mind, stripped from the needs of survival. The true soul of mortals given freedom from pain, desire and pleasure.
And for someone else who used to be me, from words.
The next winner was: A drawing of a single line.
Here’s what we came up with:
The class of elementary school children on a field trip stood in front of the framed drawing, laughing and pointing at it.
“It’s just one line!”
“I could draw better than that.”
“This is stupid. Let’s go look at the naked statues.”
Most of the group of kids walked away with their chaperone, while a few others dashed away snickering. Finally able to walk up closer to the drawing, Shelby carried her one-year-old son Colby in her arms, smiling as she looked it over with him.
“Can you read the name of the drawing?” she asked him, bobbing him up and down. His fist shoved in his drooling mouth, Colby merely glanced at the framed piece of paper, his eyes not even making contact with the namecard.
The title was Life.
“Do you see it?” Shelby asked him, pointing to the single-line drawing. “That line, it’s just like you. It can be anything. A drawing of a person. A horse. A spaceship to another planet. Even a bowl of fruit. It’s full of potential.
“Look at all these other drawings. They all started off the same. An idea in the artist’s head, with infinite possibilities. But then they put one line down. Then another. And another. And every time they put another one down, the number of things the picture could possibly be, became less. It came more into focus. The picture grew up.
“But this one, it will only ever be one line. Capturing that feeling of beginning something, not knowing where it will go. Sometimes we just want to hold onto that moment. Forever.”
She looked into Colby’s eyes, smiling at her young son. He smiled back. Gurgled happily.
Then threw up all over her shirt.
Shelby reached into her purse and took out some wet wipes. “And sometimes we just want the artist to hurry up and finish the damn drawing.”
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
Top images: Pakutaso