Everything in its right place
Sophie the 18 year old bride paces right to left, while a full church and her groom, Jason waits for her.
Sophie: (Frantically pacing with her notebook, talking to herself in a quick rate) Ah, ha! And sail the seven seas! No tick by that one meaning- I haven’t done that yet, or have I (pauses) let me check with myself. Self have you sailed the seven seas yet? No? I didn’t think so, so that’s another thing to add on my list. (Frenetically flipping a page of the notebook) Oh yes, I also I was planning on spending a year in Paris, drinking latte in one of those cute little cafes while the sun rises, and when the sun sets I’d be in the same café drinking wine! Done that yet? No! And while I’m on the subject of wine, let me add a little something here: Trip to French countryside to stay at a vineyard. Well I suppose I could do that with a husband, actually I could do all these things with a husband, but the real question is do I want to do all these with a husband?
(Pause)
Sophie: (puts the notebook down and taps her hand several times, waiting for an answer)
Well? Do I? (Thinks for a moment) Of course doing these things with a husband is good but do I really want to do these things with Jason? Oh god, why am I thinking this? Stop! I don’t want these thoughts lingering in my mind. (Starts talking to herself) Self think positive! I love Jason! He’s fantastic! He’s… he’s... beautiful… and he’s … daring yeah he’s daring… I think… and he is incredibly beautiful. NO! Said that already! (Sounding more certain of herself) He’s confident and caring and cool and sweet, oh and he’s funny and he is good fun to be with and that’s all that matters… hmmm…
Jason: (knocks on the door) are you ok babe?
Sophie: (whispers) Yeah, I’m good.
Jason: What? I can’t hear you, are you ok?
Sophie: (Louder this time) Yes! I’m fine!
Jason: Don’t mean to ask stupid questions but, what you doin’ Soph?
Sophie: (hides notebook) Ermmm-
Jason: Soph, Sophie?
Sophie: Yes?
Jason: Darlin’ there is a load of people in that church waiting for you to drift down that aisle!
Sophie: I... am …
Jason: What are you doin in there? Do you want me to come in?
Sophie: I’m not doing anything! Don’t come in!
Jason: But-
Sophie: No don’t come in, I don’t want you to see me in my wedding dress!
Jason: That just super…. Super what’s that word again?
Sophie: Superstition.
Jason: That’s the one! I’m coming in, ok?
Sophie: No! Don’t you dare, I mean it!
Jason: What’s going on, you got cold feet?
Sophie: Perhaps, no, I don’t think so… maybe, I DON’T KNOW!!!
Jason: Well your aunt said to check up on you. She said that you seemed a bit edgy.
Sophie: Me, edgy no!
Jason: Are you ok?
Sophie: Yes I’m fine!
Jason: Well you don’t sound fine.
Sophie: Well what makes you think that! I’m fine ok! Just fine.
Jason: Ok, but the wedding was supposed to start 30 minutes ago!
Sophie: Oh, I need a few more minutes, just to sort myself out.
Jason: Do you need anything, makeup, dental floss, anything?
Sophie: No, Jase, I’m ok.
Jason: It isn’t that time of the month, is it?
Sophie: No, um, Jason I having cold feet.
Jason: Oh don’t worry about it! I was getting cold feet last night myself!
Sophie: No seriously this is bad I can’t come out!
Jason: Calm down, it can’t be that bad!
Sophie: (takes deep breath) Remember that book I told you about,
Jason: Yes, I remember
Sophie: And I wrote everything in it, what I want to do before I get married and stuff like that.
Jason: Yeah…
Sophie: And that I lost it, (pause) Well I found it.
Jason: Oh that’s great!
Sophie: What? Did you say fate?
Jason: No! I said gr-eat
Sophie: Oh that’s weird because if you had said fate, it most likely to have been fate that I had
found it at this moment in my life… and…
Jason: Yes it’s G-R-E-A-T that you just stumbled upon it!
Sophie: I didn’t just stumble upon it; I tore the whole house apart looking for it…
Jason: Well at least you found it in the end.
Sophie: It’s not just that…
Jason: What then?
Sophie: (changes subject) what did you mean, earlier when you said you were worried last night?
Jason: I, what?
Sophie: A few minutes ago you said that you had cold feet and that you were worrying last night, what did you mean?
Jason: Oh, that. Just had the wedding worries, you know, the usual stuff.
Sophie: Like what?
Sunday, 27 September 2009
Task 42:Waiting for something
August 15th-A mother is driving her daughter to school to pick up her GCSE results
Alison: But what if I don't get it?
Catherine: Good lord, child, stop worrying. You'll go prematurely grey.
Alison: But-
Catherine: Honey, quit it, will you? You revised your head off for those exams, you'll get great results, you and I both know it.
Alison: And if I don't?
Catherine: Ali, will you stop being such a pessimist? Relaaaaax.....
Alison: (sighs exasperatedly and slouches in her seat) Fine. Whatever.
Catherine: (shakes her head) You and all your split personalities. We're here now. Go and get those results!
Alison: Mm....but...
Catherine: Ali-go!
Alison: I'm going, I'm going...
Catherine: You'll be out with Charlotte the rest of the day right?
Alison: Yeah, I think so...
Catherine: All right, call me if you need anything. And let me know those results!
Alison: Yeah, yeah, okay. (She gets out of the car)
Catherine: Right, then. I'll see you later, honey.
Alison: Okay, mum.
Catherine: Good luck, sweetie.
Alison: Okay...thanks.
Catherine: Awww...my baby girl...(adopts a dreamy expression) I remember when you were-
Alison: O-kay, mum. You can go now.
Catherine: Hmm? Oh, yes, well, yes. Good luck! Bye, love.
Alison: Buh-bye now.
(Catherine drives off, waving. Alison wanders through the school gates.)
Charlotte: Ali!
Alison: Hey, Charlie!
Charlotte: Where you been, girl? You've taken ages!
Alison: What, 'ain't you got your results yet?
Charlotte: Was waitin' for you, honey.
Alison: Oh. Right. Sorry for taking ages, then.
(Both girls walk towards the main office)
Alison: (To the woman at the desk) Alison McKenna. And Charlotte Hayes.
Woman at the desk: (Sorts through a pile of envelopes) Here you are. Good luck (smiles)
(Back in the playground)
Alison: I'm not sure I want to open mine...
Charlotte: C'mon, I know I've done crap, yet I still wanna open mine.
Alison: You won't have done crap...
Charlotte: Don't start. All right, on three, yeah? One, Two, Three..
(They rip open the envelopes and read them)
Alison: Oh my...
Charlotte: What? What did you get? Lemme see! (Reads the letter over Alison's shoulder) Oh wow! 3 A*s! You geek! You've passed practically everything!
Alison: I got a D in Geography...
Charlotte: Yeah, but who cares 'bout Geography? Wow...you nerd!
Alison: Stop it. So, what did you get?
Charlotte: I, uh, you don't need to know. It' s a bunch of crap...
Alison: That's not true! Show me! (wrestles the paper out of Charlotte's hand)
Charlotte: Hey! Give it back!
Alison: I...uh...well...wow. (Pause) This is great, Charlie!
Charlotte: Riiiight...Science, D, Maths, E, English lit, D...amazing, right?
Alison: No, but, I mean, but-hey, you got a B in French! That's great!
Charlotte: Yeah, only 'cause my mum's French.
Alison: But still...
Charlotte: What am I gonna do with French? Move to France? I don't think so.
Alison: French teacher?
Charlotte: Moi? As a teacher? Yeah...like that'll work...
Alison: True point. But still...you did good overall...
Charlotte: You're a terrible liar, you know that?
Alison: You could always do a re-sit.
Charlotte: Nah, I think I'm done with learning.
Alison: What?
Charlotte: I'm not too bothered with it to tell you the truth.
Alison: But don't you want to go to college? Uni? Get a degree?
Charlotte: What am I gonna do with a degree? Either way, I'll probably end up stacking boxes in Asda.
Alison: But you could-
Charlotte: Listen, honey, I didn't pass my GCSEs. I don't care. C'est la vie.
Alison: But how could-wait. You what? Se lee vee?
Charlotte: C'est la vie. Its Français. For that's just life.
Alison: But that's not 'just life!' You could-
Charlotte: Ali. I. Don't. Care. Stop hounding me. Go phone your mum. Tell her 'bout them grades of yours.
Alison: But-
Charlotte: You arguin' with me, girl?
Alison: No, I'm just saying-
Charlotte: Shut it darlin'. Go phone your mum.
Alison: (Sighs, but dials her mums number on her phone) Hey, Mum?
Catherine: Ali? 's that you, love?
Alison: Yeah,
Catherine: Honey! So...tell me! I was right, wasn't I?
Alison: Yeah, I guess, yeah. I s'pose you were...
Catherine: Sweetheart! I'm so proud! What did you get? Hurry up and tell me, I'm driving, so make it quick.
Alison: 3A*s, 2As, 2Bs, a C and a D.
Catherine: Sweetie! That's brilliant! See? Didn't I tell you? I was right!
Alison: mm..
Catherine: I should go, but I'll have a surprise waiting for you when you get home, okay?
Alison: Mum, you don't-
(There is a squeal of brakes on the other end of the line)
Alison: Mum?
(There's a crash. The phone goes dead.)
Alison: But what if I don't get it?
Catherine: Good lord, child, stop worrying. You'll go prematurely grey.
Alison: But-
Catherine: Honey, quit it, will you? You revised your head off for those exams, you'll get great results, you and I both know it.
Alison: And if I don't?
Catherine: Ali, will you stop being such a pessimist? Relaaaaax.....
Alison: (sighs exasperatedly and slouches in her seat) Fine. Whatever.
Catherine: (shakes her head) You and all your split personalities. We're here now. Go and get those results!
Alison: Mm....but...
Catherine: Ali-go!
Alison: I'm going, I'm going...
Catherine: You'll be out with Charlotte the rest of the day right?
Alison: Yeah, I think so...
Catherine: All right, call me if you need anything. And let me know those results!
Alison: Yeah, yeah, okay. (She gets out of the car)
Catherine: Right, then. I'll see you later, honey.
Alison: Okay, mum.
Catherine: Good luck, sweetie.
Alison: Okay...thanks.
Catherine: Awww...my baby girl...(adopts a dreamy expression) I remember when you were-
Alison: O-kay, mum. You can go now.
Catherine: Hmm? Oh, yes, well, yes. Good luck! Bye, love.
Alison: Buh-bye now.
(Catherine drives off, waving. Alison wanders through the school gates.)
Charlotte: Ali!
Alison: Hey, Charlie!
Charlotte: Where you been, girl? You've taken ages!
Alison: What, 'ain't you got your results yet?
Charlotte: Was waitin' for you, honey.
Alison: Oh. Right. Sorry for taking ages, then.
(Both girls walk towards the main office)
Alison: (To the woman at the desk) Alison McKenna. And Charlotte Hayes.
Woman at the desk: (Sorts through a pile of envelopes) Here you are. Good luck (smiles)
(Back in the playground)
Alison: I'm not sure I want to open mine...
Charlotte: C'mon, I know I've done crap, yet I still wanna open mine.
Alison: You won't have done crap...
Charlotte: Don't start. All right, on three, yeah? One, Two, Three..
(They rip open the envelopes and read them)
Alison: Oh my...
Charlotte: What? What did you get? Lemme see! (Reads the letter over Alison's shoulder) Oh wow! 3 A*s! You geek! You've passed practically everything!
Alison: I got a D in Geography...
Charlotte: Yeah, but who cares 'bout Geography? Wow...you nerd!
Alison: Stop it. So, what did you get?
Charlotte: I, uh, you don't need to know. It' s a bunch of crap...
Alison: That's not true! Show me! (wrestles the paper out of Charlotte's hand)
Charlotte: Hey! Give it back!
Alison: I...uh...well...wow. (Pause) This is great, Charlie!
Charlotte: Riiiight...Science, D, Maths, E, English lit, D...amazing, right?
Alison: No, but, I mean, but-hey, you got a B in French! That's great!
Charlotte: Yeah, only 'cause my mum's French.
Alison: But still...
Charlotte: What am I gonna do with French? Move to France? I don't think so.
Alison: French teacher?
Charlotte: Moi? As a teacher? Yeah...like that'll work...
Alison: True point. But still...you did good overall...
Charlotte: You're a terrible liar, you know that?
Alison: You could always do a re-sit.
Charlotte: Nah, I think I'm done with learning.
Alison: What?
Charlotte: I'm not too bothered with it to tell you the truth.
Alison: But don't you want to go to college? Uni? Get a degree?
Charlotte: What am I gonna do with a degree? Either way, I'll probably end up stacking boxes in Asda.
Alison: But you could-
Charlotte: Listen, honey, I didn't pass my GCSEs. I don't care. C'est la vie.
Alison: But how could-wait. You what? Se lee vee?
Charlotte: C'est la vie. Its Français. For that's just life.
Alison: But that's not 'just life!' You could-
Charlotte: Ali. I. Don't. Care. Stop hounding me. Go phone your mum. Tell her 'bout them grades of yours.
Alison: But-
Charlotte: You arguin' with me, girl?
Alison: No, I'm just saying-
Charlotte: Shut it darlin'. Go phone your mum.
Alison: (Sighs, but dials her mums number on her phone) Hey, Mum?
Catherine: Ali? 's that you, love?
Alison: Yeah,
Catherine: Honey! So...tell me! I was right, wasn't I?
Alison: Yeah, I guess, yeah. I s'pose you were...
Catherine: Sweetheart! I'm so proud! What did you get? Hurry up and tell me, I'm driving, so make it quick.
Alison: 3A*s, 2As, 2Bs, a C and a D.
Catherine: Sweetie! That's brilliant! See? Didn't I tell you? I was right!
Alison: mm..
Catherine: I should go, but I'll have a surprise waiting for you when you get home, okay?
Alison: Mum, you don't-
(There is a squeal of brakes on the other end of the line)
Alison: Mum?
(There's a crash. The phone goes dead.)
Task 42 Testing the Water
Testing the Water
(Jerry timidly caresses the screen of his computer, revealing the shape of a feminine figure whilst Elisa sits with legs crossed in living room, doors closed)
Jerry: She does like me… doesn’t she? I mean she really does at least pay some sort of attention to me, right?
Elisa: Oh yeah… in the same way that a dog notices the cat its chasing is slightly cross eyed
Jerry: But you don’t understand, I’m absolutely sure that she has an infatuation with me, I mean look at her picture.
(Jerry points to the screen where a socialising website displays the figure posing with chin leant on her palms)
Jerry: That can’t be faked; she’s looking right at me.
Elisa: Hmph… In the same way a harlot smiles at a stranger
Jerry: Your wrong, you don’t-
Elisa: I’m wrong? I’m wrong?! Dear boy I’m only trying to steer you in the right direction, so don’t you go around this god forsaken planet accusing your one and only guardian angel of being “wrong” about this rather blunt, unrespectful and uneducated street licker!
(Jerry Shrivels back, and curls up slightly)
Jerry: No. But-
Elisa: More buts?! Do I have to spell out your life to you? Just in case you haven’t noticed, you are; a middle aged single man, you are balding, you have a beer belly the size of Vesuvius, and to top it all off you have the same angelic looks of a mangled gorilla.
(Jerry hangs his head in disappointment)
Elisa: You see? Even when the tables are turned against you in this world, I’m still here looking after your sorry, unwanted gluteus maximus. I am the only one whom cares for you.
(Door to the room bursts open and shouts of love pierce the thickened inhuman atmosphere that has pervaded the room)
Laura: Jerry! Jerry! What on earth are you doing here on your own?
Jerry: I’m not alone… Elisa is sitting right there
(Jerry points to bed which is empty)
Laura: Elisa? Who the…
(Laura looks around puzzled and bemused)
Laura: Jerry, there really isn’t anybody here, I think you might have imagined her…
Elisa: Don’t listen to her! She can see me perfectly well, she just wants to end close friendship. I’m the only one who truly cares about you.
Laura: Jerry, I think I should take you to the do-
Jerry: No! No! Leave me alone! Elisa and I are discussing some issues and we need our privacy. Just Leave Me Alone!
(Jerry stamps both feet on the floor and shakes his head wildly with what little hair he has left)
Laura: Jerry…
Jerry: Just GO!
(Jerry timidly caresses the screen of his computer, revealing the shape of a feminine figure whilst Elisa sits with legs crossed in living room, doors closed)
Jerry: She does like me… doesn’t she? I mean she really does at least pay some sort of attention to me, right?
Elisa: Oh yeah… in the same way that a dog notices the cat its chasing is slightly cross eyed
Jerry: But you don’t understand, I’m absolutely sure that she has an infatuation with me, I mean look at her picture.
(Jerry points to the screen where a socialising website displays the figure posing with chin leant on her palms)
Jerry: That can’t be faked; she’s looking right at me.
Elisa: Hmph… In the same way a harlot smiles at a stranger
Jerry: Your wrong, you don’t-
Elisa: I’m wrong? I’m wrong?! Dear boy I’m only trying to steer you in the right direction, so don’t you go around this god forsaken planet accusing your one and only guardian angel of being “wrong” about this rather blunt, unrespectful and uneducated street licker!
(Jerry Shrivels back, and curls up slightly)
Jerry: No. But-
Elisa: More buts?! Do I have to spell out your life to you? Just in case you haven’t noticed, you are; a middle aged single man, you are balding, you have a beer belly the size of Vesuvius, and to top it all off you have the same angelic looks of a mangled gorilla.
(Jerry hangs his head in disappointment)
Elisa: You see? Even when the tables are turned against you in this world, I’m still here looking after your sorry, unwanted gluteus maximus. I am the only one whom cares for you.
(Door to the room bursts open and shouts of love pierce the thickened inhuman atmosphere that has pervaded the room)
Laura: Jerry! Jerry! What on earth are you doing here on your own?
Jerry: I’m not alone… Elisa is sitting right there
(Jerry points to bed which is empty)
Laura: Elisa? Who the…
(Laura looks around puzzled and bemused)
Laura: Jerry, there really isn’t anybody here, I think you might have imagined her…
Elisa: Don’t listen to her! She can see me perfectly well, she just wants to end close friendship. I’m the only one who truly cares about you.
Laura: Jerry, I think I should take you to the do-
Jerry: No! No! Leave me alone! Elisa and I are discussing some issues and we need our privacy. Just Leave Me Alone!
(Jerry stamps both feet on the floor and shakes his head wildly with what little hair he has left)
Laura: Jerry…
Jerry: Just GO!
Task 42: Waiting for Something
Jamie sits on a bedroom floor, playing with his teddy bear. A man sits next to him with a video camera in hand.
Jamie: Are we making this for Mummy?
Man: Yes, we are making this for Mummy.
Jamie: Will she like the video?
Man: I’m sure that she will, Jamie. (Smiles)
Jamie: What do I say?
Man: You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. (Looks at him) I’m sure that she’ll be happy just to see you again. (He smiles) In fact, if you don’t say anything at all, I’ll give you a big handful of Smarties. You like the red ones, don’t you?
Jamie: Yep. (He nods enthusiastically)
(The man switches his video camera on and off, testing it. Jamie watches him curiously)
Man: Do you want to try? (He offers the video camera to him)
Jamie: No, I’m cool.
Man: Would teddy like to try?
Jamie: His name is Milo.
Man: Would Milo like to play with the camera?
Jamie: No, (He forces Milo’s head to shake from side to side) Milo’s scared that he’ll break it.
Man: (Places his arm around Jamie) He won’t break it, Jamie, I’m sure. (Pause) Are you hot?
Jamie: A bit.
Man: Would you like me to hold onto Milo whilst you take your t-shirt off?
Jamie: Yes please. Make sure he doesn’t get on the floor. He doesn’t like to get dirty.
Man: Of course I won’t, Jamie. (He takes Milo)
Jamie: (He removes his t-shirt and takes Milo back) Is it hot where mummy is?
Man: (Pause) My guess is that it’s quite a cold place; mummy wouldn’t want her wings to get burnt.
(Silence)
Jamie: Can we start filming now?
Man: Where’s the rush, kiddo? (He nudges him)
Jamie: Mummy used the get really impatient, and I’m sure that she hasn’t changed. (Pauses) When she used to get really bad, she’d throw things around the living room and scream about how people don't change, even if they say they have. (Pauses) Me and Milo just sat in the kitchen crying, waiting for her to stop.
(The man fiddles with the buttons on his camera, switching it on and off again)
Man: People don’t change, Jamie.
Jamie: You’ve changed.
Man: I have?
Jamie: Yes. You used to scare me because you used to watch me all of the time in PE. I thought you (Giggles) liked me, or something.
Man: (Laughs)
Jamie: I-
Man: You are very good at football, Jamie. That’s why I chose you for the team.
Jamie: But, I can’t kick a football to save my life.
Man: That’s not true. (Gets up and walks to a camera stand by the bed. He stands there for a few moments) You ready then?
Jamie: (He gets up) Do I have to take my trousers off this time?
Man: It would be helpful. (He gestures towards the bed)
Jamie: What about Milo?
Man: Give him here.
Jamie: (Throws Milo) Shall I sit on the bed?
Man: Just make sure you’re facing the camera. (He smiles)
Jamie: We are making this for Mummy, right?
Man: Of course we are, Jamie. And do you know what? I think that Mummy will be very proud.
(He turns the video camera on)
Jamie: Are we making this for Mummy?
Man: Yes, we are making this for Mummy.
Jamie: Will she like the video?
Man: I’m sure that she will, Jamie. (Smiles)
Jamie: What do I say?
Man: You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. (Looks at him) I’m sure that she’ll be happy just to see you again. (He smiles) In fact, if you don’t say anything at all, I’ll give you a big handful of Smarties. You like the red ones, don’t you?
Jamie: Yep. (He nods enthusiastically)
(The man switches his video camera on and off, testing it. Jamie watches him curiously)
Man: Do you want to try? (He offers the video camera to him)
Jamie: No, I’m cool.
Man: Would teddy like to try?
Jamie: His name is Milo.
Man: Would Milo like to play with the camera?
Jamie: No, (He forces Milo’s head to shake from side to side) Milo’s scared that he’ll break it.
Man: (Places his arm around Jamie) He won’t break it, Jamie, I’m sure. (Pause) Are you hot?
Jamie: A bit.
Man: Would you like me to hold onto Milo whilst you take your t-shirt off?
Jamie: Yes please. Make sure he doesn’t get on the floor. He doesn’t like to get dirty.
Man: Of course I won’t, Jamie. (He takes Milo)
Jamie: (He removes his t-shirt and takes Milo back) Is it hot where mummy is?
Man: (Pause) My guess is that it’s quite a cold place; mummy wouldn’t want her wings to get burnt.
(Silence)
Jamie: Can we start filming now?
Man: Where’s the rush, kiddo? (He nudges him)
Jamie: Mummy used the get really impatient, and I’m sure that she hasn’t changed. (Pauses) When she used to get really bad, she’d throw things around the living room and scream about how people don't change, even if they say they have. (Pauses) Me and Milo just sat in the kitchen crying, waiting for her to stop.
(The man fiddles with the buttons on his camera, switching it on and off again)
Man: People don’t change, Jamie.
Jamie: You’ve changed.
Man: I have?
Jamie: Yes. You used to scare me because you used to watch me all of the time in PE. I thought you (Giggles) liked me, or something.
Man: (Laughs)
Jamie: I-
Man: You are very good at football, Jamie. That’s why I chose you for the team.
Jamie: But, I can’t kick a football to save my life.
Man: That’s not true. (Gets up and walks to a camera stand by the bed. He stands there for a few moments) You ready then?
Jamie: (He gets up) Do I have to take my trousers off this time?
Man: It would be helpful. (He gestures towards the bed)
Jamie: What about Milo?
Man: Give him here.
Jamie: (Throws Milo) Shall I sit on the bed?
Man: Just make sure you’re facing the camera. (He smiles)
Jamie: We are making this for Mummy, right?
Man: Of course we are, Jamie. And do you know what? I think that Mummy will be very proud.
(He turns the video camera on)
Monday, 14 September 2009
Task 42: Scriptwriting
The Royal National Theatre on London's South Bank - the home of much of the world's best contemporary theatreAfter some sonneteering and a piece of prose, I thought I would throw you into some scriptwriting again, a medium we haven't explored on wordvoodoo since early 2008!
Before I explain what I am looking for from this task, you MUST all read carefully the following three tasks first. With each one, look at the original task I set; and THEN have a browse through some of the students' attempts (and their comments). [I know a small number of you were on wordvoodoo when these tasks were originally set, but it would still be helpful for you to refamiliarise yourselves.]
The tasks are as follows:
- Task 22: Click HERE for the original task; and HERE for some student attempts (and comments).
- Task 23: Click HERE for the original task; and HERE for some student attempts (and comments).
- Task 24: Click HERE for the original task; and HERE for some student attempts (and comments).
OK.
Task 42 is as follows.
PRODUCE THE SCRIPT FOR A SHORT (min. 400 words, max. 600 words) PLAY WITH ONE OF THE FOLLOWING TITLES:
- The Right Balance
- Testing the Water
- Waiting for Something
- Everything in its right Place
- be both accessible and yet profound - and, above all, totally ORIGINAL (however you achieve this);
- use TENSION to create a powerful, effective and deliberate ENDING;
- employ CONVINCING, believable and engaging DIALOGUE;
- have plenty of SUBTEXT (i.e. room to 'read beneath the lines');
- be built around CONFLICT, the essence of effective drama, and explores that conflict in an original way.
However, it is up to you what sort of impression you are aiming for, and what reaction you are hoping for from your audience: laughter? confusion? fear? sadness? It's up to you...
As ever, I will attempt an exemplar myself in the next couple of days.
The deadline for this task is midnight on Sunday 27th September.
Good luck - and have fun! And, above all, stretch yourself with this one and do NOT post until you are 100% convinced that this is you at your COMPLETE best.
Saturday, 12 September 2009
What a wonderful world
Photo 5
“He’s a useless thug”, some might say. “He’s trouble, He’s a nuisance, and He’ll just let us down”. What do they know? Quickly judging me for my adolescent façade and branding me a “thug” in my own right, without proper consideration for feelings or thoughts that lay cocooned within my shell. Is this humanity? Is this the extent to which my kind has sunk in order to keep a logical lid on the Jar of all that’s true? Though I probably shouldn’t be surprised, as this tyrannical world I live in cares not for the creativity or imagination of it’s “loyal” disciples, rather it fusses over keeping each and every person’s hair line at a particular angle, or trying rather desperately to hush up the wrong doings of the higher superiority. MP’s, Bankers, Scientists-All Hypocrites! All preaching over what they consider to be the morally right, and lecturing us over what is a “citizens duty”. I can tell you dear people that they drive me Mad! Sorely keeping a tight-piercing eye over on the citizens of this world, whilst we all obliviously pay for their luxurious playboy lifestyles and are still constantly threatened with the risk of being hapless, scavenging street beggars. The pastoral world where freedom was compulsory and pain was a mere scratch obtained from blissful, joy-filled hours is now gone, and now all that is left is a toxic chemical waste land brimmed with damaging technology that leaves us scraping in the pennies from street to street. Though, what would I know, I am a mere statistic in the numbers of the world and would probably be a disturbance in the heavy-authoritarian world that is Planet Earth, yet worst than that is… I’m a teenager.
“He’s a useless thug”, some might say. “He’s trouble, He’s a nuisance, and He’ll just let us down”. What do they know? Quickly judging me for my adolescent façade and branding me a “thug” in my own right, without proper consideration for feelings or thoughts that lay cocooned within my shell. Is this humanity? Is this the extent to which my kind has sunk in order to keep a logical lid on the Jar of all that’s true? Though I probably shouldn’t be surprised, as this tyrannical world I live in cares not for the creativity or imagination of it’s “loyal” disciples, rather it fusses over keeping each and every person’s hair line at a particular angle, or trying rather desperately to hush up the wrong doings of the higher superiority. MP’s, Bankers, Scientists-All Hypocrites! All preaching over what they consider to be the morally right, and lecturing us over what is a “citizens duty”. I can tell you dear people that they drive me Mad! Sorely keeping a tight-piercing eye over on the citizens of this world, whilst we all obliviously pay for their luxurious playboy lifestyles and are still constantly threatened with the risk of being hapless, scavenging street beggars. The pastoral world where freedom was compulsory and pain was a mere scratch obtained from blissful, joy-filled hours is now gone, and now all that is left is a toxic chemical waste land brimmed with damaging technology that leaves us scraping in the pennies from street to street. Though, what would I know, I am a mere statistic in the numbers of the world and would probably be a disturbance in the heavy-authoritarian world that is Planet Earth, yet worst than that is… I’m a teenager.
Hypocritical happiness- Photo 3
I look at myself in the mirror. I am completely dressed in white, couldn’t have looked any prettier. Yet, I would give up all my beauty just to skip this day, this day which would lead me to my doom. The incident when my step father locked me in my room for a whole week and practically starved me in order to make me fit into my wedding dress constantly plays in my head. Why did my mother turn a blind eye to all these events? Am not her own flesh and blood? “ You do as I say or stay in there forever! You might as well remain a spinster for the rest of your life, you don’t deserve a man! Refusing to follow the orders of the man who provided for you!!”, those were his last words as he slammed the door right at my face. Provided for me? All that he’s done was to give me food and enrol me to a public school with the worst discipline ever.
I don’t crave to marry some one whom I love, all I want is a respectable man who would care for me and raise our children properly. But who do I get? A man who has a past criminal record, is very much older than me and a chain smoker! How could a parent, step parent or not wish such a thing for his or her child. This man whom I’m being forced to marry is one of my father’s best friends, his wife died just recently and he is extremely wealthy. He promise my father a large sum in return for my hand. “ Are you sure that it just her hand that you want Jonathon?”, I over heard my step dad joke after agreeing to Jonathon’s request.
“ Catherine its time , come out now love”, I hear granny call out to me from behind the closed door. I was completely wrapped up in my thoughts that I had forgotten why I came back into the dressing room. I am also completely unable to remember it. Giving up all hopes of life I make my way to the beginning of the aisle. A thick veil is dropped over my face which completely conceals it.
I begin to walk down the aisle as I hear the opening notes of the wedding march. My mind is in complete tatters. Tears make there way across my cheek smudging my make up, as I think of the happy married life that I’ll never have. I finally reach the alter, my tear stained face is revealed to my husband-to-be. Huh! That look he gave me as he saw my face lit a little flame of triumph in my heart.
The priest began his speech , and we said our vows, my mind left my body and west in search of the most irrelevant things to keep itself occupied. When it returned to my body all that I was able to grasp was a dead silence from the crowd and priest. I turn behind to see what’s happening. My father was fuming at me. What have I done wrong? I look back at him with a questioning look, “ I do”, he mouthed . “
“Oooh, I do”, I say after realising the cause for the pin-drop silence. I hear a series of stifled giggles coming from the girls. Suddenly, my eyes turn into fountains of tears, they gush out uncontrollably, the horror of my situations dawns to me all over again. All I can do is the impossible - to enjoy my doomsday and not think of the future. It will carve itself without my assistance. But the thought of the carvings being fiendish never slips my mind.
I don’t crave to marry some one whom I love, all I want is a respectable man who would care for me and raise our children properly. But who do I get? A man who has a past criminal record, is very much older than me and a chain smoker! How could a parent, step parent or not wish such a thing for his or her child. This man whom I’m being forced to marry is one of my father’s best friends, his wife died just recently and he is extremely wealthy. He promise my father a large sum in return for my hand. “ Are you sure that it just her hand that you want Jonathon?”, I over heard my step dad joke after agreeing to Jonathon’s request.
“ Catherine its time , come out now love”, I hear granny call out to me from behind the closed door. I was completely wrapped up in my thoughts that I had forgotten why I came back into the dressing room. I am also completely unable to remember it. Giving up all hopes of life I make my way to the beginning of the aisle. A thick veil is dropped over my face which completely conceals it.
I begin to walk down the aisle as I hear the opening notes of the wedding march. My mind is in complete tatters. Tears make there way across my cheek smudging my make up, as I think of the happy married life that I’ll never have. I finally reach the alter, my tear stained face is revealed to my husband-to-be. Huh! That look he gave me as he saw my face lit a little flame of triumph in my heart.
The priest began his speech , and we said our vows, my mind left my body and west in search of the most irrelevant things to keep itself occupied. When it returned to my body all that I was able to grasp was a dead silence from the crowd and priest. I turn behind to see what’s happening. My father was fuming at me. What have I done wrong? I look back at him with a questioning look, “ I do”, he mouthed . “
“Oooh, I do”, I say after realising the cause for the pin-drop silence. I hear a series of stifled giggles coming from the girls. Suddenly, my eyes turn into fountains of tears, they gush out uncontrollably, the horror of my situations dawns to me all over again. All I can do is the impossible - to enjoy my doomsday and not think of the future. It will carve itself without my assistance. But the thought of the carvings being fiendish never slips my mind.
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