We’ve been discussing writer’s burn out lately, and ways to recover from it, which made me think of the other horrible writing problem: writer’s block. With that in mind, I thought I’d share a writing game my friend and I used to play when we needed to write, but couldn’t think of anything. It’s pretty easy.
The first thing you need is something that’s “talking”, whether it’s a TV, a radio, your favorite CD, your spouse talking (I’ve found if you say, “I’m writing” and sit down at your keyboard this will start the floodgates of spousal yap). It doesn’t matter what. Then, you poise fingers over keyboard and type the first sentence you hear, or piece of a sentence. Every time you find yourself stuck, listen and write in whatever is being said/sung at the time. Of course, you’ll cheat at it and try to find sentences that fit, but by the time you get to that stage, you already know what you’re writing, and you don’t really need the random prompts any more. Here is a short example:
Monday morning feels so bad, it has to be the worst day of the week! The alarm clock goes off and I climb out of bed like a zombie. If only I didn’t stay up so late on Sunday night, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But who can resist working for the rich man?
What? Oh, I guess that might not make any sense. You see, every Sunday night I head over to the Brandstone estate and spend the evening posing for their son, Brendan. No! Not like that! I wear clothes, you pervert! Anyway, Brendan is an artist, and he uses me as a reference model. Of course, the finished product never looks a thing like me, but I don’t mind. He makes me look beautiful, and he pays me well.
Something’s wrong with his sister, though. Don’t take offence at my cold hearted comments, but that girl is just not right! She has the strangest colored eyes, it’s like they’re no color at all, not even white, and when she looks at you, you feel just like she’s looking through you. It just gives me the creeps! But she’s determined to hang out and watch, anyway, staring at me with those clear colored eyes and chewing on a piece of pink bubblegum. Pop! Pop! Pop! One bubble after another. But, Brendan never flinches. I’m not sure he even notices her.
Ah, Brendan. When he paints he’s in a world all his own; it’s a world no one else can follow him into. I feel so unsure sometimes about whether he even really knows we’re there. Something in his eyes calls to mind the silver screen, and the ill fated young artists that were so popular. He looks like one of them; slim and pale with a thick mop of unruly hair and large eyes. There’s a sorrow in them that time can never mend.
I think you get the idea. Anyway, just a fun little writing game to pass the time. Does anyone else have any other writing games to help cure writer’s block?
(If anyone is interested, the first two lines are from “Friday on My Mind” by the Easy Beats, the next two from “I Don’t Wanna be Here” by Cool for August and the last three from “Careless whisper” by Seether.)