Plot

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 5^th 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.