Welcome to the first (unofficial) Bad Writing Prompt day of the Beehaw Writing instance!

I’ve been reading a bit on the instance, and I agree with the consensus that we’re going to need something weekly to bring and keep a community together. So I’m doing my part!

Wait, what do you mean by bad writing prompts? Partially inspired by this post here.

“Don’t try to prove you’re a good writer, you’ll never write anything. Try to prove you’re a bad writer and you’ll write everything.”

So, here’s my general idea. For now, I’ll be posting 3 different things.

  • Bad Character Ideas
  • Bad Setting Ideas
  • Bad Plot Ideas

For you to mix, match and use as you please! Again, I’m writing this off the cuff and with 20 minutes before work, so apologies for the short post, but without any more delay, here’s what I got for you all!

Bad Character Ideas

  • The disgruntled younger sibling of the “Chosen One”

  • A food critic who actually suffers from no sense of taste, getting by on charisma and faking it alone

  • A magical anime girl who has a strange hobby and obsession with taxidermy (Thanks to my coworker for giving me this one haha)

Bad Setting Ideas

  • Cowboys and digimon. How that works I have no clue. Just. Cowboys and digimon combined. If you do this you have my eternal gratitude.

  • Told entirely through the lens of the endless blurb you skip before a recipe.

  • An office building set within purgatory itself.

Bad Plot Ideas

  • The main character has traveled back in time to kill Hitler. Little do they know is Hitler is now a skilled killer of time travelers.

  • A love story where two people are fated to be with one other, lest the world end. They hate each other.

  • A heist on the Vatican vault.

Alright, I’m running out of time, and need to skip off to work. Hope to see some posts, and remember to make it awful. I want some real schlock and cringe. Feel free to use all of the prompts, or none of them! Your reward will be nothing. Ciao ciao!

  • dynamism@beehaw.org
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    1 year ago

    I learned from the best: Anton Ego, Pete Wells, Anthony Bourdain. Every column is a story, complete with heroes and villains, intrigue and gossip. The food? The food is just an excuse.

    When Verguenza opened in New York, I was sent to cover it. The young prodigy, Sterling Rivera, had just left a stint at the celebrated Farmhouse Inn after a spectacular conflagration with the head chef. Sources say the argument centered around the restaurant’s famed Gorgonzola Mac. Rivera is reported to have thrown a carbon steel skillet clear across the kitchen, screaming that his genius was being wasted on “shit Kraft casserole”. The new restaurant was supposed to be a statement by the critically acclaimed youngster – proof that he could revolutionize the world of fine dining with a global, no-holds-barred approach.

    The only meal available at Verguenza is a four-course, prix fixe dinner. The courses change nightly, depending on the seasonality of rutabaga, the availability of jamon iberico pata negra, and, most importantly, the temperament of the chef. In the restaurant, the guest is never handed a menu. They are simply promised “a delightful surprise”. Rumors abound among chefs about Rivera’s legendary commitment to perfection. It is said that if salad is served as a course, the chef at the grill station was likely fired that night. The chefs I’ve spoken to describe an intense, militant culture to Rivera’s kitchen. They say that no one lists Verguenza on their resume unless they stay for more than a year. Leaving before then means only one thing: you were lacking.

    I can happily report that none of the dishes served to me were salad. In fact, the menu was remarkably creative, and lived up to its billing. Rivera himself came out from the kitchen to introduce the meal. In his words, the meal was a “voyage across continents and worlds, inspired by the work of Salvador Dali, the absurd made mundane”. The first course was a hamachi ceviche cured with yuzu and citron foam. It left a delightfully zippy taste that quickly faded into effervescence. Next came a lightly chilled soup described as pumpkin gazpacho. It perfectly prepared the palate for the main course, a seared filet of alligator served on a bed of peppery spring greens. Finally, the biggest surprise of the meal was final course: candied ants. Several of the diners recoiled when presented with the crystalline nugget meant to evoke arthropods trapped in amber. Four actually walked out of the restaurant. However, for those brave enough to partake, this dessert was a singularly spectacular treat. I can only hope that this dessert makes a return to the menu soon, though based on the chef’s penchant for switching things up, the odds are slim. I left the restaurant with high hopes for the future of fine dining. Rivera, at least, is not content leaving things to the status quo.