My Dad and I are writing a story together. We take turns writing one line each and then trading off. So far it’s been interesting.
I, being a serious writer with very little humour and a passion for prose have been taking my sentences quite seriously.
My Dad, on the other hand, is using this as an opportunity to make fun of me.
I mean, sure, I did buy a water bottle for my dog, and sure, that is a bit of a yuppie thing to do. But is it really necessary to turn a very serious, potentially award winning short story into a joke about my spoiled dog?
This may have been a sore spot for me.
Regardless, the exercise has been a fun one (even if I have been waiting days and days for my turn to write again – hurry up, please!). It’s interesting to not only have to limit myself to one or two sentences at a time but to also relinquish control of a story and just see where the exercise leads us. I am a planner, someone who likes to know the major plot points before putting pen to paper which is something I can’t do here. Within the first sentence my Dad had already changed the complete direction of the story.
Apparently my Dad is not a puppet ready to dance to my tune.
Alas. I suppose this will make me a stronger writer.
Or, at the very least, remind me not to tell my Dad about Ninja’s rain coat and backpack.