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Scriptorium

Distanced Futures

During the virus years we would trade sourdough starters and kimchi, jam and bread and stranger concoctions, sneaking over garden walls to leave them on doorstops and windowsills. A quick wave, a prohibited flash of friendship, before we were off again on our deliveries. They were small gifts, it’s true – but they spread through the cities silently, like threads.

 

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Gratitude and inspiration to fiction what the future holds, mined from Kelvin Mason's story 'Future Imperatives (Take 2)'. Kelvin is a far braver writer than I am - and he (and comrades) have a recent book out!

 

In this earlier post, we might have started something; a few words scribbled onto a page; thoughts and feelings and characters falling into place.

Sitting with those first lines, and where you think they might be going, try any or both of these exercises below. Once again write a line or two that follows on. You might find what you write here changes what you wrote in The Story of Us. Or it might not. Sometimes we have to come at things laterally – we have to scout around in the terrain a bit, to get a sense of the place we’re trying to get to.

The Seed.

In the dark of the under-world, in a world of cold and heavy earths, there sat a seed. It had been good and gold and burnished brown when it had been cupped in the fruiting bud of it’s tree. It had felt itself filling up and fattened by the rainwater and food brought to it, up from the roots, down from the skies.

But down here no one could see its colours.

One day, on a day of storms and fierce winds, that seed fell to earth and was swallowed up. Winter fell on the tree and the sky that had held it, and the seed – for a time – disappeared. …

What happens next?

The Stone.

There was once a stone – a boulder, really – solid and strong and laced with the glitter of quartzite like captured stars. It sat patient and stubborn as the winds and rains of centuries washed it, season after season, sun after sun.

Stones think slowly. They are, after all, stone. It took a thousand years for it to notice at all that it had moved, just a little, from it’s place.

What happens next?

xoxo

Try this.

Write the following lines of this story, just for yourselves, just for each other. There might be a lot of things you want to get onto the page. There might be a lot of things you think should be on the page. But right now however, just write a few lines. And then write a few more. We’re going to come back to revisit these first lines often, like the branching routes that lead out of a crossroads, there are going to be many different directions that we might take. You might be surprised at where they lead.

The Story of Us.

There was once a great plague that swept over the land and all of its peoples. They barricaded themselves in their homes. They were afraid to touch each other. …

What happens next?

xoxo

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