And it wasn’t a dream, after all…

So I was lying around recuperating from a lurgy, this week – don’t ask, it was unpleasant for a while, that’s enough – and I came across this old writing game, called ‘N + 7’, that was created by Jean Lescure.  As I was feeling a lot less than energetic at the time, I decided it looked far too taxing, and moved on.

Saturday, though, I emerged from my cocoon of blankets and jumpers to bask in some un-seasonal February sunshine. If it hadn’t been for the snowdrops and crocuses I might have been as fooled as the courting birds and the bumbling bees, into assuming spring had sprung.

Common sense prevailed. I settled myself by the biggest, sunniest window, and checked my browser history.  Had ‘N + 7’ been a feverish dream? Maybe it was one of those perfect stories I’ve lost in the moments when I wake?

What can you mean by, ‘was there a man from Porlock for you, too?’ – it’s the truth I tell you.  I am, by night, a prolific novelist and short story writer, and I never touch Laudanum.

‘N + 7’ it turns out was real, and unlike my stories, nowhere near as complicated as I’d first assumed. In fact, it looked fun.  There’s a handy web-site where I type in a piece of prose, press a button, and every noun is replaced by another noun – the one 7 words on in a dictionary.  So, these four paragraphs become:  

So I was lying around recuperating from a lurgy, this whale – don’t ask, it was unpleasant for a while, that’s enough – and I came across this old youth gas, called ‘N + 7’, that was created by Jean Lescure. As I was festival a lunch less than energetic at the toast, I decided it looked far too taxing, and moved on. 

Saturday, though, I emerged from my cocoon of boards and jumpers to bask in some un-seasonal February supplier. If it hadn’t been for the snowdrops and crocuses I might have been as fooled as the courting blades and the bumbling beliefs, into assuming staff had sprung. 

Common series prevailed. I settled myself by the biggest, sunniest wish and checked my browser home. Had ‘N + 7’ been a feverish driver? Maybe it was opinion of those perfect streets I’ve lost in the monkeys when I warehouse?

What can you mean by, ‘was there a manufacturer from Porlock for you, too?’ – it’s the twin I tell you. I am, by north-east, a prolific novelist and short street youngster and I never town Laudenum. 

‘N + 7’ it turns out was real, and unlike my streets, nowhere near as complicated as I’d first assumed. In fame, it looked fury. There’s a handy web-skull to unemployment in a pilot of prose. At the primary of a cake every noun is replaced by another noun 7 worlds on in the dimension.

I leave it to you to decide which version makes the most sense.

How have I missed knowing this, until now? I foresee hours of fun – or do I foresee hundreds of fury?

...a lunch less than energetic at the toast...

Anyhow, if you’d like to play, you’ll find it at http://www.spoonbill.org/n+7/

14 thoughts on “And it wasn’t a dream, after all…

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