Hey, writer-type folks. AND PEOPLE WHO JUST WANT TO PLAY BUT DON'T IDENTIFY AS 'WRITERS' - all are welcome here! Every Friday, we do a fun free-write. For fun. And Freedom!
Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.
Write whatever you want in the 'comments' section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! You have two minutes (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.
Don’t tell me to shut up. First things first. I’ve got
so many soapboxes, you could build a skyscraper. Granted, it would be a shitty
soapbox skyscraper, but you gotta suspend some disbelief here. Or don’t. I
don’t care. I’m not the boss of you. But you’re not the boss of me, either.
Erase your brain. We need to do a complete wipe and
re-install. I don’t want you coming into this with preconceived notions. If I
tell you there’s an old man smoking a cheroot, you need to look that shit up so
you know what I’m talking about. Personally? I have no fucking clue what a
cheroot is. I always figured it was some kind of nasty cigar. You gotta make
your own assumptions, though.
But you can use your gut. It won’t work as well as
your brain. But really, that’s not as much my fault as it is our fault. This is
a team effort. And there’s no eyes in team. Don’t go trying to be cute.
I’m just waiting to put one over on you.
So, let’s be clear. You don’t like to read. Not
really. And I don’t care. Not really. I’ve decided to stop pushing the boulder
up the hill. Fuck plot. Fuck coherency. I’m going to tell you right now that I
have a top-hat and a mind filled with holes. Just like a country stop sign. But
I put those holes there with chemicals. Not a shotgun. Cause I’m a Commie
liberal.
Suck it.
I’m tired of lazy readers. Go for a fucking jog or
something. Take this with you. Make sure you don’t run straight into a
sign-post though. That girl in the red coat? The one with the eyes made of
magic? She’ll laugh at you. Worse, she’ll do that thing where she covers her
mouth and shakes a little and you can tell she’s trying not to laugh. It will
be fucking brutal.
Keep your wits about you.
Keep your wits about you.
We need to establish some kind of trust here. So,
here’s the deal. I’m going to tell you some things that very few people know…
#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...