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/lit/ - Literature

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3187293 No.3187293 [Reply] [Original]

has /lit/ ever tried to collectively write a story? even a short story?

>> No.3187299
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3187299

>> No.3187302

That's a stupid idea
If you don't know it's a stupid idea then you're a stupid person

>> No.3187303

>>3187299
welp

there needs to be a method where it is coherent and only mildly retarded/trollworthy

>> No.3187305

>>3187302
i already knew what the result would be sort of >>3187299

just wanted to get some thoughts on it, and perhaps a better method

>> No.3187315

>3187290

>> No.3187321

>>3187290

>> No.3187322

>>3187315
yeah that was me

......so?

>> No.3187367

>>3187322

>> No.3187369

>>3187299
Anyone remember when that was all the rage and we had guys doing youtube readings of it?

Christ, brings me back

>> No.3187411

>>3187293
(excuse spelling mistakes not native english speaker)
I dont know if you ever tried BUT YOU ARE ABOUT TO START RIGHT NOW:


"Fred opened his eyes like he did every day in the morning, but not quite. Altough he didn't know it yet, this was not going to be just another day. He didn't know it but his eyes did. They didn't pop open inmediately emiting the enthusiasm that characterised Fred as a person, but rather sluggishly crawled upon the surface of the iris, like a prisoner on death row.
No, this wasn't going to be an ordinary day for Fred because...

>> No.3187421

COME ON PEOPLE BUMPITY BUMP i started like shit but you can make it better

>> No.3187420

>>3187293
The way /b/ collectively counts to 5

>> No.3187423
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3187423

Wrong book, OP.

>> No.3187425

>>3187423
Wrong thread, sorry.

>> No.3187428

>>3187423
>>3187425
>not just deleting your post

cmon son

>> No.3187430

>>3187425
What thread is it i just read that book

>> No.3187432

... because it was not the morning, it was the night.

A form rustled beside him, a soft protest, not yet awake.

Fred threw off the covers further burying the mound beside him, staggered up and out of bed. He crossed the floor, dragging his feet, dragging the throw rug along until he crossed over to the bathroom.

He took a loud healthy shit.

A short while later Fred managed to cross the room again and sit in the little folding chair next to the only table in the room. The table held his most precious possessions at the moment. He poured out a shot of JD into a coffee cup and waved it at the form now sitting up in his bed. The transvestite, he knew not his name, seemed annoyed.

"You do drink don't you? We have that much at least."

Fred swished the drink around a bit more and downed it.

>> No.3187471

I once had this idea of trying to form an internet novel. Basically, I'd write a certain amount, pass it to someone else, and so on and so forth. I had all these rules in mind to try and maintain some semblance of order, but I can't remember them now. Eventually, the novel would complete some sort of haphazard circle and I'd get it back and try to edit it into something coherent. My guess is that it would have ended up fantasy no matter how I started. Or filled with sex and people killing off whoever the main character was at the time to insert something else.

>> No.3187474

>>3187432
Like every morning since he got out, it all came back slowly: The fight with his boss, him being fired, his family moving away, the death of Carol, and Jail...
He had lost so many references of his former life that he felt surrealy out place, and having had a fair deal of time to grief, none of that really bothered him, it was just things he remembered in the morning, except jailtime.
The contundence of physical pain and cultural shock of being a convicted young white college boy are things that would hardly ever leave his memory. But after a few minutes, he just learned to leave with it hoping that at night maybe he could forget once more. For the moment all he cared about was to find a refuge in mundane pleasure until he could figure out what was it that needed to be done...

>> No.3187533

"Fred, buddy, thanks for giving me a warm bed and all, but this is like the fifth shit you've taken tonight. Every time you get up it leaves a draft. Get back in here." The transvestite stroked the sheets where Fred had been lying. Fred frowned. Why does this guy know my name?

"Do I know you?" asked Fred.

The transvestite rolled his eyes. "Not this shit again," he said, then yanked the covers back up over the sheets and turned over.

>> No.3187553

Google docs

>> No.3187613

Pillow fight?

>> No.3187707

i was coming in here to making sure somebody posted "the penis was"
the first post, though... that's too soon, it just proves that we're all of 30 people jacking each other off. sad, yo.