Slow TV and me

“Slow TV” is the Norwegian concept of televising every-day activities in real time, without storyline, script or narration, allowing viewers to immerse themselves uninterruptedly in an unfolding subject.

Conceived by the Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation (NRK) in the early 2000s, the first slow-TV broadcast featured a 7-hour driver’s-eye-view train ride from Bergen to Oslo through the Norwegian countryside. Following the show’s success, the NRK then broadcasted a 134-hour-long ship voyage, a 24-hour-long opening day of salmon fishing, a 12-hour-long broadcast on firewood, and a 12-hour knitting marathon.

Can you imagine what a 12-hour-long broadcast of a writer trying to beat a deadline would look like?

We first see him getting out of bed at 4:57 on a Saturday morning because the dog has to pee, and she won’t be denied. He puts on his shoes, grabs his phone to use as a flashlight, and walks her out the front door. 

“If I don’t think of something to write today, I’m toast.”

He brings the dog back inside to feed her. Since the cats also show up, he might as well feed them, too. While they’re all eating, he starts the coffee maker.

“Did I write about the dog recently? I think I did. Coffee? Coffee mugs! Nope, I did that last year.”

He takes the dog outside again to let her finish her morning bathroom routine.

“I smell something smokey. I think it’s that new junk yard. They’re always burning something. Is that even legal?”

He brings the dog inside, she goes back to bed, and he fixes himself an early breakfast of coffee and avocado toast on dark rye. While he eats, he watches some YouTube videos to pass the time, and if he gets a writing idea, so much the better.

“Mongolian throat singing? Not sure. The ins and outs of whittling a spoon? Maybe later. The art of drawing caricatures of people for people who really don’t know how to draw for the one-time price of $47.50? I’ll think about it.”

After breakfast, the dishes go on the counter to be washed later, he lets the cats in or out, depending on which way they want to go, and he settles down to his laptop to begin the process of writing his story. But first…

“I think I’m going to make jambalaya tonight, which means I need to do some shopping. Bell peppers. We’re out of onions. Got rice. Need some shrimp. Are we out of milk? Might as well put some toilet paper on the list. We can always use more TP. I feel a bit sniffly today, so maybe some tissues. Pet food? Yep, they go through it fast. What to fix with the jambalaya? Asparagus, maybe? Cornbread. Need to put cornmeal on the list.”

He stops, opens up a new document on his laptop, and types: My old grandpa once told me, “Never trust a man who can’t make his own cornbread. He’ll rustle your cattle, cheat at cards, and put beans in your chili and claim YOU’RE the one who can’t be trusted.” 

He deletes the document because his grandpa said no such thing, “but it would’ve been awesome.”

Four hours go by and the writer has done practically everything he can think of besides writing. He pours himself another cup of coffee and watches some more YouTube videos about Africa, fingerstyle guitar playing, Octoberfest, motorcycles, classical piano, how to play a Chinese sanxian, Career Ladder, Scarlett Johansson, How To Move To Finland, Norwegian slow TV, planting a garden, building a…

“Wait a minute. Norwegian Slow TV. That beautiful Norwegian concept of televising the mundane as entertainment. Now THAT has possibilities!”