Rowyn (rowyn) wrote,

Writing exercise: Writing Badly, Part II

He liked to dig. He would dig because he liked digging. Digging was the sort of thing he liked, so he dug. He dug a lot, because he really dug doing it. He'd dig where he liked dig, and then he'd dig some more. "Digging is fun," he'd say. "I like to dig. And when I'm done digging, I dig digging some more."

[The previous sections were all bad writing styles offered by the author. The next three were ones I had to invent and write for myself.]

Fake Haiku
The flower blooms
Like a bright red shiny thing
that blooms. Brightly.

u r 5uC|-| 4 5tupi|) |a/\/\0r, i |)0n't n0 how 4ny1 cn 5+an|) 1t. +3h 5c1en+ifi( /\/\3+ho|) 1s 50 5imp|3: 0b53r\./3, |-|`/p0+he5iz, pr3|)i(+, +35t, r3\/is3. D0/\/+ u get 1+? u suXX0r.

Mock profound
Play game with computer badly you do, for understand the ways of computers you do not. See you, your head monitor must face -- ah, so?

Now, use mouse you must -- no no no, use mouse of computer you must --

Ah, such one as you, first with cards must learn solitaire.

[We now return to styles provided by Vorhaus]

Write a really bad business letter
Dear To Who It Might Concren:

Thnak you for yor interest in our services. We at Toddler Bank would glad provide you with teh financing YOU want. We appreciate your inquiry, but we cant provide you with the information you wanted just now. Because my mother is mad at me now and won't let me use her compuder.

But we want to let you know how much your interest mean to Toddler Bank. Without you, we would be just 2 kidz in a basement. With axis to mom's bank account. Usually. We write you lat3r and tell you what rate we offering. We sure we can come up with the money YOU wnat.

The Kidz at Toddler

Write an entry from a teenager's diary
[This is a rather strange exercise for me. First, I don't need to imagine what a teenage diary was like. Not only could I find one in ten minutes or less just by clicking "random" on the LJ or FOD page, but I have my own that I could reference. Yes, I have journal entries, still preserved, from my teenage years. Some of them go back to when I was 15. Possibly 14; I wasn't dating the earliest ones. I don't need to make up or steal teen angst. I have my own. Here, look, genuine 100% Grade A Unedited Original Teen Angst:]

somedays when i go to school completely unprepared, i will
look off into the distance just before i re-enter the school
building, and i think how easy it would be to simply walk
away. i could just put my books down and simply walk out of
the parking lot and on to the field, then finally into the
woods. so easy. i would never have to worry about my old
problems ever again. i could just take a walk and never come
back. just keep right on walking. and even if i didn't have
any food and ended up starving to death, at least i would die
happy, and unworried, for once

[This was an important observation for me, actually. It's sort of early Existentialism, if you look at it just right and squint hard. Er, I don't think this is at all in the spirit of this particular writing exercise, however. Lemme try again.]

i have a new pencil. It says, in gold letters down the side, "Stolen From Mr. Knox". i think that's great. i thought it was so great that i'd better make it true, so i stole it from Mr. Knox.

Yes, that really was the most interesting thing i did today. Look, why do you think i write fantasy? i hate reality. i was listening to this album by Evanescence, and there's this great song on it, "Paper Flowers". i love these lines especially, lemme dig up the lyrics, jussa sec.

Ooops, the song isn't "Paper Flowers" its "Imaginary". here:

"Don't say I'm out of touch
With this rampant chaos -- your Reality
I know well what lies beneath my sleeping refuge
The nightmare I built my own world to escape."

Yeah. that's what it's all about. Except "rampant chaos" doesn't sound that bad, compared to high school, anyway. But, yeah, that's reality: a nightmare. i'm building my own world to escape it. i'm building LOTS of worlds. Just in case they find some. i'll have spares.

Gonna get bck to writing my novel now. Nah. Don't feel like it. Gonna swing into a fragment instead.

[See, and I have dated my fresh sample of faux teen angst with a reference to an album from 2003, so you can see I didn't pull it from the archives. Though Mr. Knox really did have embossed pencils that read "Stolen from Mr. Knox", and I'm pretty sure I did steal at least one.

I realize that, unlike my previous samples of bad writing, there was no effort to be funny in my teen-angst one. I'd planned to be funny at first. You know, make fun of teen-age cliques and crushes. But then I looked at my old diary, and realized that I didn't know anything about teen cliques or crushes, and that, really, I feel more sorry for teenagers than anything else. I know it's fertile ground for mockery but ... maybe it's just too easy. Or pathetic. I'll try to do better with the next one.]

Write a paragraph summary of a really bad movie
MUFFY AND TIFFANY FACE THE MALL OF DOOM: Muffy, the Persian cat, and her friend Tiffany, a French toy poodle, are out enjoying a stroll through their favorite stretch of untamed Brazilian rainforest when they discover that sinister developers plan to clearcut the rainforest and build a mall. Horrified, the pets unite with their allies, Billy the Beetle and Marla the Macaw, to foil the developer's plans. They learn that the evil developers really are aliens from outer space, here to destroy the Earth's habitat by clearcutting rainforests and selling piles of disposable consumer goods in their ubiquitous malls. Muffy and Tiffany try to warn the corporations that plan to locate shops in the mall, only to learn that all corporations are run by vicious, profit-obsessed businessmen who care nothing about the fate of even their own kind. Fortunately, the animals are able to foil the alien plot and save the Earth anyway, through clever use of Muffy's Magic Collar and Tiffany's Enchanted Chew Toy. RATED G. Filmed on location in New York City's Central Park.
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