So, I had coffee with my buddy Dan the
other day. It was a lovely day, and we drank coffee, and that is all
the action that took place. Not much of a plot, is it?
Dan has been cooking up this story in
his head for years. I can’t tell you much other than that. He has
told me bits and pieces of it over the years and each time he does,
I’m more and more impressed with it. He has thought about it for a
long time, he has constructed it, developed it. He has made notes.
All he really lacks is the act of writing the actual story. I have
faith that he will. There is only so long that a person can ruminate
on something like this until it tears out of the skin and becomes its
own thing.
So, there we were, having coffee.
Dan starts to tell me about things. As
he’s catching me up on the latest stuff, he’s got all the elements
for a great story. He starts by telling me the conflict. Then he
mounts the tension by adding more conflict, then the element of
surprise, then he dials it down a notch with a little backstory. Then
he gives it to me: the moment of denouement. Ah! I thought.
Meanwhile, the coffeehouse is raging. There is the hiss and pop of
the espresso machine. Traffic went by on 5th and Main
outside the window. And I’m baffled at the story he’s just told me.
See, it goes like this: Dan’s has just
binged on a Netflix show. He asks if I’ve seen it, and I have to
admit I’ve had a binge myself. We talk about it briefly, the episodes
we like the best. This particular show is all about technology and
the darker side of it. Dan tells me that he hasn’t slept. That’s the
first point of conflict. He hasn’t slept because he can’t breath with
his allergies as they are. So, he’s up all night and he’s watching
episode after episode of a show that is dark.
So, Dan goes off
to the doctor, I mean, right? There’s something wrong. He finds out
that he’s allergic to life, and I mean, he’s allergic to everything
outside. And this has been going on for his whole life. It’s worse
now because it has been a very wet year for us and there is more
grass and trees and mold than there has been, well, ever. And Dan has
not slept a wink, and I suspect he’s out of episodes of his favorite
show.
He’s offered a drug that will help with
the allergies. This drug will clear him up a little and will help him
to sleep. There’s just one catch: it will probably give him a tummy
ache. Oh, and suicidal thoughts are likely. But, what the hell,
right? He hasn’t slept.
Don’t worry, no thoughts of suicide,
thank God, because I really love Dan and I know everyone else does
too. What happens is even stranger. He gets very vivid dreams. He has
dreams that have plot and action and characters and everything.
Sometimes I think Dan is full of shit.
Case in point, the part of the conversation that follows: he says he
can’t write because he’s not as well read as me, or other writers he
knows. I think this is a stupid reason not to write. And he does
read, I know he does. He’s even told me. He reads about economics and
money because he was an economics major. I wish I would have told him
what I’m about to tell you, but I didn’t think about it until just
now. I think some of the best writers are, or were, cops and lawyers.
These are two professions that require writing, and do not
necessarily require reading. These two professions write, and they
write a lot. Practice, I guess.
Meanwhile, in waking life—this is our
backstory—Dan gets a call from a long lost step-brother. He only
met the kid twice, when he was six and again at ten years old. You
see, Dan and I come from a generation of kids with divorce and
blended families and I know exactly what a long lost step-brother is.
This step-brother lives elsewhere, but is coming our way for an
extended stay. This guy works remotely and lives in all sorts of
places.
Dan and his step-brother catch up. As
fate would have it, the step-brother works with an AI writing bot.
Dan asks about how it works, and if AI is for him. The two of them
are now excited: Dan because with the help of a robot he will be able
to write the things that are ruminating in his mind. He brother is
excited because he has a robot that can help Dan.
Now I have all sorts of thoughts on
this. First, do I think Dan should go into a creative endeavor with a
robot? Yes, I do. If you only knew what this guy was cooking up,
anything to get his brain drained onto a page is a good thing.
Second, should I get involved with a robot? Nope. I don’t care about
writing a story nearly as much as I care about writing. All I want to
do is create. I just want the process and I don’t care, nor have I
ever cared about the product.
Then Dan had to go. We had a great hour
together. It was better for me than it was for him. He paid for the
coffee.