Dinner conversation- plot and premise.

Over dinner earlier, R quizzed me about my plot ideas for the coming 24-hour playwriting competition. I shelled out my most kerang busuk* smile, and told him I was planning to take it easy- to take it as it comes.

*Malay for foul-smelling oyster. An English equivalent is sheepish, but that will ruin my shell-oyster pairing!

He gave me a hard-boiled look, and I scrambled for an excuse (failed), because I have been told numerous times that coming up with premise and plot ideas is no picnic. Not without practice anyway.

(Also, if you fail plot, you fail everything. No excuses!)

True story-

I was a broken premise generator. R, though, was like a faulty vending machine, serving endless bite-size portions of plot and premise, coins not required.

Name me an object, he said, and I will come up with a story.

Salt shaker. Handphone. Creme brulee. Tea-bag. Stirrer.

How do you do it? I asked.

Practice. Everyday.


And that’s what I must do.


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