Sell books from a box in your garage

Dear readers,

We’ll come back to the random plot generators another time – for now, I’ve got an Exciting Opportunity for you, so Don’t Miss Out!

A few years ago, Luke Wright and I wrote a book called Who Writes This Crap? which consisted of spoofs and pastiches of everyday writing – small print, junk mail, newspapers and so on. It was pretty funny.

Through the magic of discontinued print runs, I’ve just come into possession of about 50 copies of the paperback edition and I’d like you guys to have them. They’re £6 each, or $12 for USAians (because, you know, postage). If you’re from somewhere else, they’re whatever $12 is in your currency. Drop me an email at writebadlywell@gmail.com if you want one and we can do a PayPal thing.

To try and tempt you, I’m going to post a few extracts from the book over the next few days. The actual print versions are all beautifully formatted to look like the things they’re parodying, but even without that, some of the jokes should still stand.

All the best,

Joel

Plot your historical romance at random

Dear readers,

Another genre that you never have to think of your own plot idea for again. You can thank me later.

The Stupendous Random Historical Romance Roller (pdf)

As pointed out in previous comments, there are virtual dice available online if you don’t happen to have the right polyhedrons just lying around. This said, I have faith in the essential geekiness of my audience.

All the best,

Joel

Plot your SF at random

Dear readers,

Another in the series of tools for the inspirationally challenged. This week it’s the turn of SF and there are over 55 million possible plots, none of them particularly feasible:

The Fantastic Random SF Roller (pdf)

Enjoy, and don’t forget to share your results.

All the best,

Joel

Plot your folktale at random

Dear readers,

Continuing last week’s experiment in randomly generated storytelling, here is another tool for your writerly toolbox. There are fewer possible outcomes this time, but the results are more genre-specific:

The Incredible Random Folktale Roller (pdf)

All the best,

Joel

Plot your story at random

Dear readers,

Hello. It’s been too long. A How To Write Badly Well book has now been put together and is with the publisher. I will, of course, keep you updated. In the meantime, I thought we could try something a bit different.

Authors are asked all the time where their ideas come from. Usually they mumble something about scenic walks or reading the newspaper, then mention the title of their book again and glance meaningfully towards a bookshop. In an attempt to answer this tricky question once and for all, I have decided to turn storytelling into a quantifiable science (this has, in fact, been done before – see Vladimir Propp). To this end, I present the first in a series of handy tools for the muse-averse writer:

The Amazing Random Blurb Roller (pdf)

Use it wisely and please feel free to post your results in the comments section below.

All the best,

Joel

Fail to explain what’s going on

Dear readers,

I owe you an explanation. At some point over the next few months, there will be a shiny wonderful book (you remember books, right?) based on this blog. It may or may not be called 100 Ways To Write Badly Well. It will include both the best bits of this blog and all-new material. I’m pretty sure you’ll like it.

The lack of updates here is partly down to me working on said book. The lack of updates in the near future will also be partly down to this. I’m going to mothball this site for a few months and relaunch it, new and improved, when the book’s ready. Sorry for not explaining this sooner. Don’t worry, though – it’s all going to turn out okay in the end, just like a predictably-plotted story.

Those of you who have sent me suggestions for new blog posts are wonderful people and I can only apologise that those suggestions are being put on ice for a while (yes, ice and mothballs – what of it?). Thank you all so much.

See you soon.

Joel

Banish “said” from your vocabulary

‘I’m afraid she’s dead,’ unveiled the doctor. A silence settled on the room as the family took this in.

‘You’re sure?’ proclaimed Lois, quietly. The doctor nodded.

‘I’m terribly sorry,’ he conversed. ‘It was a peaceful end.’

‘Did she...’ Lois vocalised. ‘Did she have any last words?’

‘Yes,’ nodded the doctor, nodding. ‘She epitaphed a few words before she left us. “Tell my children I love them,” she stated. Then she recapitulated “all of them,” and shortly after that, she went.’

‘I can’t believe it,’ philosophised Lois. ‘I can’t believe she’s gone.’

‘I’m so terribly sorry,’ the doctor gushed.

‘Can I ask a question?’ questioned Lois.

‘Of course,’ dialogued the doctor.

‘If we had brought her in sooner,’ she began, ‘is there anything we could have done,’ she continued, ‘to give her more time?’ she concluded, questioningly.

‘I... I’m afraid not,’ the doctor ejaculated.

Commit to clichés

‘Run like the wind!’ Olaf shouted. ‘The kind of wind that goes very fast in a certain direction, then changes course abruptly to avoid obstacles, whilst taking care not to let itself be caught by its pursuers!’

Anneke glanced over her shoulder. It literally felt as if her heart was in her throat – a thumping knot of muscle lodged just behind her tonsils, pumping blood around her body from its strange new position through arteries which presumably had been rerouted down her throat in some way. She ran as fast as she could, knowing that what pursued her was her worst nightmare – worse than finding herself back at school with no clothes on; worse than her teeth falling out in the middle of a business meeting; worse than not being able to understand what the man in the golden highchair was saying and then noticing that he has the face of her boss but sometimes it’s the face of her old piano tutor and she somehow knows without knowing how she knows that if she gets too close he will shout at her but the room is getting smaller and smaller and her shoes are too tight. It was worse than any of those things and was made even more terrifying by the knowledge that it wasn’t, in fact, a nightmare, but a real thing in her waking life. It was, however, a figurative nightmare, with all the concomitant emotional impact that description suggests (for which, see above).