Ending the Script

Greg;

I fell into Bill, thinking we were gonna die for sure.

Bill;

I said to Greg, ‘jump! We have to jump!’

[Greg slides his hands down, now holding Anthony by the wrists]

Greg;

It was madness, I knew that, but we had to jump. Ya know how they always say that your life flashes right before you die? Well in that moment, when the two of us jumped out of the crashing chopper, carrying nothing but armed to the teeth, I felt like I remembered everything. I remember way back when I was a kid-

[Anthony suddenly turns around]

Anthony;

Hey! I felt that!

Bill;

What? Felt what?

Anthony;

You reached you hand into my pocket! You were trying to rob me!

Bill;

No, sir, I wasn’t trying anything like that!

Anthony;

Sure you weren’t.

[Anthony takes a step back, now sizing up the two grubby looking guys]

Greg;

Please, I promise, we weren’t trying nothing.

Anthony;

What a bunch of bums. Have fun living on the streets.

[Anthony turns, storming off down the street]

Bill;

C’mon Greg! Why’d you mess it up?

Greg;

Sorry, guess I should’ve warned ya.

Bill;

No kidding! I could’ve swiped him so easy if you’d done it right!

Greg;

I know, bud, you probably could.

Bill;

Well. I guess I never thought I’d see the day you messed up a ruse. No lunch, no score-

Greg;

I never said that, now did I?

Bill;

Huh? You didn’t.

[Greg holds up a thick golden watch, letting it dangle in his hand for a second before shoving it back in his pocket]

Greg;

There’s a pawn shop right next to the salt and pepper, right?

Bill;

Uh… yeah, sure is. The Dime.

Greg;

Great, let’s get a move on then.

[Greg starts walking away, Bill close behind him]

Bill;

I know you’ve been doing this a bit longer than me, but I got to ask, why?

[Greg talks while continuing to walk]

Greg;

When he flashed his billfold I could tell he didn’t have much on him. At least nothing we could really use. But, when he was tucking his cash back away, I noticed the gold watch he was wearing. I don’t know how much it’ll cash in for, but it’ll be a hell of a lot more than his wallet.

Bill;

You’re a damn genius, you know that?

Greg;

Yeah, I do. I hope that Rueben is as good as you made it sound.

[Bill slowly smiles, then starts laughing]

Bill;

Oh don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be great!

On the Corner script

Bill;

Hey, sir, you wouldn’t mind sparing a bit of change would you?

Greg;

It’d be mighty nice of ya, and we can tell ya a story for your troubles.

Anthony;

Oh? You guys are homeless, I suppose?

Bill;

Yes sir, but not cause we can’t work or aren’t educated!

Greg;

It’s just hard for us to get jobs nowadays. We’re vets, from back in the day. Seen some pretty crazy stuff, we have!

Anthony;

You don’t say! You guys were over in ‘nam then?

Bill;

Yes sir!

Greg;

And we got some stories that could blow your mind, bud!

[Anthony, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket, puts two bills in the upturned hat]

Bill;

Thanks a million, sir!

[Bill and Greg slowly stand up as they begin talking]

Bill;

So, should we tell him about the bamboo traps? That one was a real good story?

Greg;

No, no, no, we gotta tell him about the air raid! That one was the real kicker!

Bill;

Straight to the best with this guy, huh?

[Bills leans in close to Anthony, as if whispering]

Bill;

We don’t tell to many folks this one, it’s the most exciting one there is!

Anthony;

Really? You know I always wondered what it was like, but my dad’s a higher up and got me out of the draft before it even started.

Bill;

Oh it was a blast kid! But instead of me just telling you how it was, let me tell you a story.

[Anthony begins smiling and nodding enthusiastically]

Anthony;

Yeah! Go for it!

Greg;

Let me explain something to ya first, you see, back in the ‘nam days me and Bill spent most our time going through the jungle by foot. This one though, this was a special mission?

Anthony;

Special mission? What do you mean?

Bill;

It was our first aerial trip into hostile territory, an air raid, where we’d be dropped off by a chopper with a few others to take over a Charlie outpost.

Anthony;

Charlie?

Greg;

Code for the Kong’s, kid.

Bill;

But you see, this easy mission didn’t turn out to easy.

Anthony;

What happened?

[Bill swings behind Anthony, grabbing him shoulders tightly]

Bill;

Hell, kid, hell. Mortar fire, a stream of bullets, an anti-aircraft gun.

Greg;

Our chopper took too much damage, the thing shaking and rumbling like no other.

[Bill begins shaking Anthony vigorously]

Bill;

And suddenly, when it seemed like our chopper might actually touch down, the motor blew.

[Greg lurches forward, grabbing Anthony’s arms]

Scripts

I talk a lot about stories, poems, and movies, so there seems to be one big piece I'm missing here. Scripts. There are a lot of similarities to stories and dialogue, but the focus shifts a lot from trying to make the plot clear to trying to make the dialogue and interactions clear. Here's a bit of a script I wrote, more for feedback then teaching purposes, since I'm still learning a lot about scripts as well.

Setting; two middle-age men sit on the corner of a busy street in New York, 1975.

Bill;

So, you feeling like getting a nice lunch today? We could get a couple sandwiches down at the Salt and Pepper.

Greg;

I would, but I ain’t got the cash.

Bill;

Aww, that was sounding so good though! A nice warm Rueben or something. Those were always the best back in the day.

Greg;

Stop bringing it up. I’m hungry as hell too, but I ain’t had the cash for that in years, and you know that. Not all of us can find a job like you.

Bill;

Yeah, yeah, I know that. Just wishful thinking I guess.

Greg;

Well that’s good and all, but wishful thinking doesn’t put food in my belly or cash in my wallet.

Bill;

What about a guy like that? He can’t fill your stomach but something tells me he could give you some green.

[Greg leans forward, looking down the street]

Greg;

Real city slicker like that, I bet he could. He’s sure got a nice suit and a pair of shiny shoes.

Bill;

Let’s grab a few bucks then, yeah? Maybe pull the ol’ shoe shine on him?

Greg;

Nah, he’s a younger guy, late twenties I’d say. Too young and well-off to have seen any action. Let’s give him a story he’ll remember, ya?

Bill;

Story time it is then!

[Bill and Greg wait for the man to walk up to them. Bill pulls of his hat, holding it upward like a bowl]

Descriptions For Character

I've shown you guys before about how you should use descriptions to emphasize an emotion while building setting, but another good way to use descriptions and imagery is to improve on your characters. Here's a little excerpt for you guys. Think about the character and who she is, and then try to link that to the descriptions.

                The woman was a bust made by Michelangelo: her face was frozen, forever in a rocky stillness; every line was prominent and emphasized; every curve was artistic and seemingly made with purpose; her skin was chalky white, a stark contrast to her midnight black hair. And, like a statue, she sat at the wheel completely still, her hands at ten and two and her eyes looking out into the dark summer night. The only sound in the small two seating car was the patter of warm rain on the windshield and, underneath that, muffled almost, a soft murmuring. Unintelligible whisperings that just barely met your ear.

                The lone woman, breaking out of her stone-like stare, glanced over at the passenger seat. There was only a plain cardboard box, unmarked and unlabeled, covered in wooly navy blanket.

                The woman gazed at it for a while, her eyes only flickering to the road every second or two to correct her steering. Almost reflexively, the woman began reaching down with an angelic smoothness.

                Her hand over the clutch, only centimeters away from the box, it froze. For a moment it hung there, suspended in the air. Then, slowly, the hand drew back, instead going to the small ordainment that hung from the rear-view mirror.

                Dressed in a white gown and adorned with a ribbon was a small angel. It had two plush wings, its frayed string that held it up sprouting from in-between its shoulder blades. Coming off of its head was a small, hardly noticeable wire, the halo it used to hold up being broken off long ago. Although the small face of serenity –eyes closed and small smile on its face- was still well intact, its outfit was more than well worn, its sleeves splayed and its dress adorned with drab stains. In its hands was the ribbon that stretched across the angel’s body, the small, faded print saying ‘Believe in Miracles.’

                The woman spun the toy around, so that it faced her, then put her hands back on the wheel. The woman took a deep breath in through her nose, holding it there as she cocked her head back, before she let it slowly tumble out through her mouth. Gently she turned the wheel, pulling into a small parking lot. She cracked the door open, letting in the wash of rain and the rumble of distant thunder. 

Layering Scenes

Now, I've talked a lot about dialogue and it's importance. It's a vital aspect of just about any book, but that being said there are a lot of aspects that go into it and other tricks you can do with it. One really fun thing to do in your writing, especially when you feel your dialogue is to straight forward or doesn't get the point across enough, is to layer your scene. Add a second interaction, either conscious to your characters or not, that adds to their interaction and follows a similar motif. Take a look at this piece I did for example, and take note of the second interaction that happens and how it goes together with the dialogue.

“The doctor’s said you’d be alright,” Alex said over the noise of the heart monitor. Brody looked out the window into the small hospital waiting room, in which there was a lone woman sitting, back straight, chin up, clutching an old, faded pair of army fatigues like her life depended on it.

                “Not for long,” Brody said.

                “You’re alive, isn’t that what matters right now?”

                “Maybe,” Brody muttered.

                “We survived,” Alex said, “and I don’t care what comes next, that’s good enough for me.” The woman sitting in the window was visited by an even older, more faded looking doctor. The type of person who has the faint wrinkles and kind eyes that says he’s seen what this world has to offer, good and bad. He broke the news, his gaze never leaving that of the woman’s.

                “Alex, you don’t understand.”

                “No, Brody, you don’t understand,”

                “Alex! My lungs are done, you get it? Done! I have hours left before they die out-,” A fit of coughing over took him, sprinkling the hand that covered his mouth in blood.

                “For my lungs to kick out, here, now? You know what needs to happen next.”

                “A surrogate. You need your surrogate.”

                “Yes,” Brody said. Outside, the doctor handed the woman two or three dead medals to go with her army uniform. She sobbed, her small frame shaking rigorously with the fragility of a house of cards. She accepted the medals regardless; wiping a tear out of each eye before reaching out to take them. Without any further apologies or thanks, she left.

                “I… I never thought… I mean… I thought I would be able to live. I thought something like this would never happen.”

                “I know, Alex, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. And I have no right to ask anything of you.”

                “No,” Alex said, “I get it. I know what has to happen.”

Descriptions

One of the key points, as we all know, is your descriptions and imagery. Now, that can be a really fun aspect of writing, but the thing that most people fail to realize is that descriptions should be used in order to not only improve your story, but to move it along as well. What do I mean by that? Well, when you provide more in depth descriptions, it should provide one of three major things: further the understanding of your characters; further the plot of the piece; or create a better sense of setting or tone. Here are a few examples what I mean, try to get a sense of emotion and setting from the excerpts.

Anger

                The room was a shotgun spray of glass shards, all centered around one half destroyed bottle of Jack. Its opaque shrapnel was embedded in everything: the rugged and torn wallpaper that had been haphazardly painted over in some parts with a deep, deep red; the carpet that had been stained from the weathering of generations –deep browns, concerning maroons, and other suspicious yellows and greens- that were so long ago most didn’t care to remember anymore; and the flesh of the woman who’d been hit, her pale green eyes staring at the ceiling above. The empty bottle lay in a pool of her blood, like a gleaming glass castle in a scarlet moat.

Jealousy

                The frame was plain black, metallic and matte, making a perfect rectangle around the blackness that had once been a scene of two lovers. The glass cover was now shattered, a large crack going down the middle like lightning in the inkiness of a midnight thunderstorm. The top and bottom of the frame was layered, smothered in weeks upon weeks of dust, except for the sides. Both the left and the right of it was still shiny and full of clear fingerprints, being no stranger to late-night white-knuckled grips.

Happiness

                The book was plain for the most part: white cover; paperback spine; no intriguing design or eye catching patterns. Something about it though, this seemingly boring novel, drew you in and grabbed your attention. Maybe it was the way the sunlight gleamed off the golden lettering, giving it a warm feeling aura. Maybe it was the natural old book smell that drifted off its pages, throwing your brain back in time to late nights of reading and relaxation. Or maybe it was just the feel of its smooth matte cover and sun warmed pages. 

In Your Dreams

I think every writer knows that one of the biggest difficulties of coming up with new content is having the inspiration to come up with new and original ideas. Although those who consider themselves authors should be almost constantly creating new stories and editing old ones, a lot of times I think we find ourselves only writing new pieces when we're specifically inspired for that piece. That's a big difficulty, we, as creators, need to learn to push past that habit and start creating on a nearly daily basis, and one such way to do that is dreams.

Dreams are known for being crazy, terrifying, or beautiful. Sometimes they can be insightful, showing something about ourselves that we've subconsciously overlooked. All this is good and well, but my favorite feature about dreams is that they can be great starters for story ideas! On average, they're usually pretty fun and interesting, so they're easy to write about, and it's fun to retell the dream you so vividly remember and to change it however you want.

Now, if you're like me, you probably don't remember many of your dreams. That's why, although I don't personally do this myself yet, I would definitely recommend keeping a dream journal of some sorts. Every morning you can write down last night's dreams, recording what you remember before it fades away, saving it for later. It'll act as a sort of safe for story ideas, so that whenever you're feeling especially uninspired or facing some classic writer's block, you can just read through your own dreams and adapt one into a story!

I've done this once or twice myself, adapting dreams into stories, and for myself it worked pretty well actually!