what happen when a person start writing unconsiously ?

[Mr.Grey-Cat]

a while ago, I just felt bored and not in the mood for do anything. then on a whim, I started a new docx file and started to randomly write, without even thinking about what to.

then at the end, I had a short 80-word scene, that can be taken as a prologue in front of me. surprising, right ?

so, I am asking, do you sometimes just start to write lines and sentences randomly without thinking ? or do you always have to plan for things before they happen even if it's not a serious story?

by the way, here is what I written in less than a couple of minute, without even using my brain, if you are free, why don't you try something smiliar and tell us what kind of things is floating in your head.



In a world covered in words, a word was walking.

The word was a word of ten letters from a forgotten language, and so the word was not that famous.

Still, such a thing was not bothering the word, instead, it walked happily, with joy that no one would suddenly start calling her.

And so, in such mood, the word kept moving, in a five-dimensional path as it advanced to the zeroth dimension, where all words originate.

The end.​

 

[AKnightWithaKnife]

Most writing is random planned writing is rare

 

[Representing_Tromba]

Not that I recommend this but when I have no idea what to write I will get drunk with a google doc open. when I wake up the next morning I usually have something interesting once I run it through Grammarly. However, not everything I write in this state is acceptable. I don't think that a story about four dumbasses and their really horny and insane grandmother trying and failing to be terrorists in a 1984 style world would be okay. That said, it did produce my favorite conversation ever.

MC, showing the hideout to a new member: This is our resting place.

New guy, seeing the MCs Grandma: I didn't know you guys had a stripper.

MC: that's my grandma, not a stripper.

New guy: I know a stripper when I see one and this woman is definitely a stripper.

Grandma: Hey!

New guy: I'm sorry. This fine LADY is definitely a stripper.

Grandma, nodding her head in approval: This one sure knows how to treat a lady. why can't you be more like him?

 

[Agentt]

Eto, so, it's night, im sleepy, i wanna sleep, and i anint gonna proof read this

What this about, i am allepy, so lets see how i write

Hehe

Etooo

No ideas are co ing in. Ind, whovh is a dissapointtment, because i have heard sllepy peiple get good isdes. Like there is a whole reddit sub page for 3 am thoughts, make one for 11 pp thouvhtsas well.

Ther ewill be many spelling mistelaes because i am not looking at screen. I am jusy lookingimto void, lettinge me fingers do tje qo3erls.

It is alsovery cold write npw.

I have started ising my thumbs now. I dont knwo what effect it will caise because i don't usually use thumbs.

Ther was an old farmwr who say on a bush, he found a old pillar, who was ona leaf, he had a bet anti wihicch said meown moewso. The murder was dine bubjoe darjen star, he is the lpolice chirfe of the department and wears a shirt.







Yeah, this didn't work well, I thought it woukd be a real lit idea.



I might start a new seires, about an insanem mam, who is me, just me maintiaining a diary.



Iwanna make a trailer

And i wanna make a teacser for that trailer.

 

[SakeVision]

You guys think when you're wrtiting?

 

[Representing_Tromba]

You guys think when you're wrtiting?

Only when we have to in order to avoid plot holes. Forwarning, never do anything involving time travel unless if you don't have any intentions of sleeping again.

 

[Yi_San]

Although i am new here, i have written somethings in my language. I only need a spark, then my fingers will do it..
I will think again when i feel i have missed something...
Lol
But i have to write the moment that spark hits me. cause in the next second i don't remember the clear outline.
How many many ideas are gone just like that..sigh...*

 

[ArcadiaBlade]

TBH, I wrote unconsciously most of the time but I tend to snap out from time to time to edit what I'm writing to make sense. I tend to write weirder things as time goes on, till the eldritch gods started their way into my mind, to summon themselves into the real world.

I think this is when I was sleepy and wrote this one in half-wake state.

-------

I woke up one day as a girl and was given the ability to become a magical boy by a creepy horse with a body of a human muscle builder. He asked me to stop the legion of handsome men who wanted to find a special girl who can grant their wishes if she were to love someone but it turns out that I was actually the girl in question.

When as a girl, I act all delinquent and stuff that every guy I punch became masochist and turned yandere and when I turned into a guy, I have the magical ability to make any girl I touch...What the fck? Make them ejaculate and use their body fluids to summon buffed up stuffed bears to beat their meats and use them as......Jesus christ....ugh......projectiles to shoot my opponents?

Then, it turns out that the main villain is my father who turns out to be my mother inside my father.........semen? To uh.....um.....trapped my mother in my father's body and my lesbian girlfriend was using my family to turn against me because she wanted my sister who has been inside me to leave my body but turns out that my sister loves me so much that she used witchcraft to get inside me, literally, and won't come out until she has my heart, which was stolen by a goddess who is in love with my sister's lesbian girlfriend's twin sister, whose a yandere and in love with the boy me.

Okay. The rest of the story becomes a convoluted mess since its only a bit and most are just scribbles from the eldritch gods I tend to invoke.

 

[ThrillingHuman]

Let me try.... So, here's a word of caution, I'm going to try to not think about the things I'm going to write, so if I accidentally curse someone to death, or summon a demon upon our mortal world, I'm not at fault, alright?
3...2...1...go
Even when I was told that beyond the range was only death, I could not stop dreaming days and nights about the alluring line on the sand... The one separating Us and the Beyond.
When I was eleven years old my best friend Charlie and I were playing, and somehow he ran away there. Some days I wonder if I would still be able to see him were I to follow his steps.
Is it even worth it to keep on living in this small place? Here, amidst the endless steppes and the unclimvable mountains, here, trapped with the other sheep that wear human skins, here, in this place full of people but no one to talk to? Am I just going to waste my life away here? Why not run beyond the forbidden line, why not run towards the alluring world of unknown? At least, death seems more worth it than just wasting away.
But each time I take a step towards the taboo line on the sand, fear gripsy heart and I can find no more courage to take a second one.

Well... This was written in one breath at least, but I couldn't turn my mind completely away from what I was writing.

Here's attempt #2
Bright flashes, big fishes. Bright flashes on the fishes. We ate the fish upon the dishes. Flames of the lands far beyond our sight call with the raspy voices of an old person reminiscing of the times long gone, like a train that went into the sunset and never returned. Where did it go? Did it go? Or was it a game or a play on stage, with countless actors jumping and dancing in demonic masks as they celebrated the holiday?

I just thought of things popping in my head and described them, trying to connect the previous thought with the next.
Here's the last attempt, I'm pulling all stops
#3
Spots in white color, tentacles devour the Sun like an old wrinkly hand. It laughs and sneers as it raises its scythe to cut down the weed to sell it to the countries abroad. Recording is in progress, I lie on the couch in front of the doctor, the lamp is hanging over me, I fly on it above the ravine like it's a magic carpet from old Arabic tales.

Admittedly, I still had much control over what I wrote and couldn't not think of what I wrote.