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  1. - Top - End - #1
    Ogre in the Playground
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    Default Spontaneous Prose/Automatic Writing

    No, not automatic writing as it relates to communication with a higher power or some spiritual inner self. I'm not a terribly spiritual person, and I've no interest in "letting a spirit possess my body" or something similar. If I write something, I want the credit for it

    I'm talking about automatic writing as the surrealists defined it: Surrealist automatism, or writing without conscious self-censorship. From another angle, consider Kerouac's "spontaneous prose": writing in a near-trance state without pause to think of the correct word or punctuation and only the slightest idea of where you will end up.

    I got into this sort of thing recently, as a way to get rid of a serious case of "writers block" (which was, and often is, simply a sudden fear of writing badly - understandable, because if I don't write well, I don't have anything), and I'm pleased to say I had a fair measure of success. The guidelines I laid out for myself are as follows:

    1) put on some music: no lyrics, relatively up-tempo, and not too loud. I tend to use my go to jazz playlist.

    2) get a glass of water, put it next to me.

    3) open a blank google or word doc, set spacing to single space, set font to times new roman 12 point.

    4) crack knuckles, neck, back, get comfortable in my chair.

    5) set timer for 2-4 hours, depending on how long I've got/how motivated I am.

    6) put mind into as blank a state as possible: the music helps me with this.

    7) begin writing. Once I have begun writing, I am not not stop typing for any reason, especially if it would be to pause and consider the correct word or direction for the story. I am not allowed to correct my spelling, and I am not allowed to use commas or periods. The one piece of punctuation allowed is the em-dash. I must continue to type until the timer rings.

    8)Once the timer rings, step away from the computer, stretch, etc. Read over some of what I've written if I feel the need, then do something enjoyable that doesn't require much thought: catch up on shows, browse twitter/facebook/youtube, read a "for fun" book.

    The experience while writing continuously with as little conscious thought as possible is a strange one. I've at various moments felt like I needed to scream, break my fingers or the laptop, etc. I've also felt like a complete genius, an unstoppable force of imagination and pure thought. It's a bit of a roller coaster. But it's one of my favorite ways to write, it's fairly therapeutic, and I've ended up with some decent poems and stories that I've salvaged from the 20-40 or so pages I end up producing in that time. I'd personally recommend trying it, at least once. It's not for everyone, but I have a few writer friends who swear by it. I've included a piece that I hastily pulled from my latest session, if you'd like a look inside my brain, and I invite others to share their experiences and works in this thread as well!

    Spoiler: Here's the piece. It still needs a title, suggestions are welcomed.
    Show

    The end of the world is taking place a little at a time — a swarm of apocalypses like flies or gnats stripping away the flesh of a dead squirrel and laying eggs in the soft spaces behind the eyes life is grotesque and tragic in this way life is cunning in this way I think to disguise death so thoroughly it prevents us taking our own lives ensures that we continue afraid of the pain and putrefaction the rot and bend of fishbones in the sun the stink of savage weather on the rise the smell of gasoline underneath the belly of a car the oil drips on your forehead and into your mouth you gag and swallow and feel your stomach roll over and think that now you could run until your joints banged each other to pieces just to feel the other's touch — two mugs are crushed together handles splintering there is only a little blood but a small shout from me you there is a brief moment of horror the porcelain lines the linoleum the broom is brought the pieces swept away the blood smears on the floor I go for a sponge but forget halfway through — I am distracted by the storm rolling in behind the billboard outside the window which reads “call us now to revive christ once more” and I warn you don’t call that number you don't want to be responsible for that third washing of the earth before I’ve at the very least had a child or two enough to decide if we can all be clean which of course I will not decide there is no such decision that can be made but the hum and the beat of the hymn tells me otherwise that far away in a heaven of sand and soapstone our lord grumbles in his linen wrapped sleep and coughs the sacred herbs out of his lungs and rises walks towards us and seeing us shuts his eyes and stands there motionless he stands — someone shoot him someone says — someone shoots him — he does not look to see who it was the bullet enters on his temple and the crowd gasps a flock of birds burst from his skull — the linen man stands there skull half gone a soft boiled egg split in two his brain runs over his eyes they are still closed he does not cry he licks the thoughts from the corner of his mouth tilts his head and pours them into the earth and dies — this is the only miracle I have witnessed and according to those who study such things will be the last miracle ever — I am inclined to believe them I do not see how anyone god or man could hope to live up to a feat so exasperatingly beyond us and beneath us — except that you bite into my sandwich and the swiss cheese goes everywhere I am ashamed of you I give you a napkin I tell you I love you I crush a fly against a window I suspect that before my life is over I will do this many more times I suspect that before my life is over we will not love each other and I suspect that is happening right now I suspect that my sandwich that you are eating has something to do with this a sort of a symbol in the hot peppers and roast beef but I am too worldly to think of it my stomach is full of words to say to you and your mouth is full of food and oh please won't someone have an ounce of pity and take me away from here before I begin to hate you to soon I want to stick to the script written for the most of us — I want to fall in love get married and leave you — I want to fall in love get married and burn the house down — I want to burn the house down I want to hang my hate on a cinder that I have placed on your nose and two more in your eyes— I want to hang my hate from the rafters of the burning building so that we both choke my hate and I want you to be there for it— I want you to drive away from me I want to run you over with my car —what I am trying to say is that i want to watch your bones separate from each other and themselves — what I am trying to say is that I want to observe each atom of you and choose only the right ones to put you back together with — what I am saying is that I believe in death and I believe in death after death what I am saying is that I cannot put you back together — what I am saying is that why do you expect me to succeed when you tried and failed and you’re better than me at everything — what I mean is that your fingers will obey you and not me when you tell them to dance they will dance — what I am saying in a roundabout way is that there is not a greater meaning to this at least not yet — what I am saying is we could find out — what I am saying is we can leave each other— what I am saying is foolish because you have already left and I have burnt the house down and I am starting over from the beginning in as many ways as I can think of I am painting your face over the face of the president on my dollar bills and I am spending you on a new hat I am spending you on a new woman one of paper mache and broken glass and pencils and rulers all splintered and stuck together with glue in ways that I can see —a woman who is broken in ways that are easy to fix a woman who is broken in ways that are easier to break — peel back the onion and watch as the second layer is no different this is what I meant — peel the onion expect to reach the core and never do swallow it the tears are pungent and will not assist you in any way swallow it and then never speak to me again i think this is how it is done — how we are done — here I am done — here I cannot say the same for you —
    Last edited by D20ragon; 2017-12-15 at 10:17 AM.
    Washed up Gm in the Playground

    Quote Originally Posted by BrokenChord View Post
    This seems like a level of crazy-talk only you could accomplish.
    Quote Originally Posted by T-Mick View Post
    ... I've played a few games with D20ragon as GM in the past, and I have to vouch for his skill - he's an excellent writer, his world-building is top-notch ... and his games are, while sometimes too ambitious, some of the most fun to be had on these boards.
    avatar by the marvelous asdflove


  2. - Top - End - #2
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    Batou1976's Avatar

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    Thumbs up Re: Spontaneous Prose/Automatic Writing

    Wow.
    I can't write that way. I just... can't.
    I think the problem is, I can't just not think... my inner censor/ editor doesn't seem to have an off switch.
    Mean People Suck

    The Lord of the Rings is not a trilogy; words have meanings, and cannot be arbitrarily redefined just because you're lazy and/or careless. Or, put another way: Infer we shoe to gobble the blueberry jazz musician? Spleen! Water crackers pontificate when sebum roasts merrily for the lagoon.

    You can either roll a DIE (singular), or multiple DICE (plural).

    Association for Renaissance Martial Arts

  3. - Top - End - #3
    Ogre in the Playground
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    Default Re: Spontaneous Prose/Automatic Writing

    I sort of felt the same way, but really just committing to the "no stopping rule" helps break that block. It did for me, at least, obviously can't speak for you.
    Washed up Gm in the Playground

    Quote Originally Posted by BrokenChord View Post
    This seems like a level of crazy-talk only you could accomplish.
    Quote Originally Posted by T-Mick View Post
    ... I've played a few games with D20ragon as GM in the past, and I have to vouch for his skill - he's an excellent writer, his world-building is top-notch ... and his games are, while sometimes too ambitious, some of the most fun to be had on these boards.
    avatar by the marvelous asdflove


  4. - Top - End - #4
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    Batou1976's Avatar

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    Default Re: Spontaneous Prose/Automatic Writing

    Quote Originally Posted by D20ragon View Post
    I sort of felt the same way, but really just committing to the "no stopping rule" helps break that block. It did for me, at least, obviously can't speak for you.
    "Not stopping" isn't so much the problem for me as the "get it going in the first place".

    What helps you to get going to begin with?
    Mean People Suck

    The Lord of the Rings is not a trilogy; words have meanings, and cannot be arbitrarily redefined just because you're lazy and/or careless. Or, put another way: Infer we shoe to gobble the blueberry jazz musician? Spleen! Water crackers pontificate when sebum roasts merrily for the lagoon.

    You can either roll a DIE (singular), or multiple DICE (plural).

    Association for Renaissance Martial Arts

  5. - Top - End - #5
    Ogre in the Playground
    Join Date
    Nov 2008

    Default Re: Spontaneous Prose/Automatic Writing

    Quote Originally Posted by Batou1976 View Post
    What helps you to get going to begin with?
    You can bootstrap by typing random words for a few seconds until you get a coherent sentence out.
    The gnomes once had many mines, but now they have gnome ore.

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