I found a writing contest recently where the goal is to write badly. This is actually a trick many creatives use to spark their creative thought. Being so obsessed with writing good often distracts us from being able to write at all. So, if you concentrate on writing badly then have a laugh at your terrible writing, you can recenter yourself and write well without stressing yourself. (Side note: it would be extremely amusing if my dancer friends and I spent the first 10 minutes of every night dancing as terribly as we could, but I digress) Below are four entries for the terrible writing contest that I have already submitted. And the link is below. Everyone try to write one. Or do whatever you stress over, do it bad. Write a terrible song. Dance as horribly as possible and record yourself. Tell a terrible joke. Draw a terrible picture. Bake the worst dessert you can think of. Trust me, it’s way more fun trying to be bad than trying so hard to be good all of the time.
- I stared at the awkward teenage girl attempting to flirt with me and tried to make sense of what she was saying but I couldn’t focus for the protruding pimple on her left cheek seemed to be spreading before my eyes across her face from west to east, similar to the way the first emperor of china, Qin Shi Huang, united all of China in the third century BC, perhaps he should have taken lessons from her zit in longevity of life.
- A frustrated granny smith apple faced the mirror and turned around, frowning at the huge bite that the human had taken out of it’s side without any concern for the audition it was about to try out for; there was simply no way the apple could beat the pear, banana and pineapple for the envied position of a logo for a huge company. (Get it? Someone please tell me they get it.)
- Hanging plants don’t make much sense if you really think about them and yet on that day where all of the air smelled of lavender scented trash bags (a scent that hovers somewhere between lavender and trash seeping into plastic) and cat litter, it was the hanging petunias that would save my life.
- Silvia, an undercover FBI agent, at a local restaurant, handed the bacon back to the cooks requesting that they make the bacon crispier, according to the customer, the bacon was limper than her husbands private parts, (only she didn’t say private parts), and this was very unlucky for the customer making the complaint as any food that was whined rudely over at THIS restaurant, mysteriously and magically fell dead, but only Silvia had been able to make the grim connection.
The link for the contest is posted below.
Closed System 