Monday, September 29, 2008

Partial writer's block

I would really like to write a movie script. I think that it would be fun to see something I wrote up on the big screen. Or even a medium sized screen. Or even on a straight-to-DVD release that "premieres" at Wal Mart. But I find it very difficult to craft a complete story from beginning to end. I'm like the New York Mets; I just can't seem to close the deal (um, I'm talking about in regards to writing here...heh heh!). I think it's because I lack discipline, have a short attention span and am dumb. For example, here's a page from a script I wrote:


MICHEAL STRONG, thirty-two, handsome, and Ivy League educated. He wears a professional, but obviously not expensive business suit and carries the old, beat up valise his father gave him before he died. He could have made a lot of money as a partner in a high-powered law firm in New York City, but he chose to stay home and serve the poor but proud people of his hometown of Chickpea County (which is somewhere in the Deep South where people are poor but of solid character and not racists) who really need his help. Sometimes he wonders if he made the right choice. He has his father’s steely resolve and deep commitment to ethics and principles but he has yet to meet the incredibly beautiful woman who points this out to him.

He stands opposite RICHARD STANE, fifty-five. He is physically and psychologically imposing, standing at 6 feet, 18 inches tall and wearing a $50,000 suit and a watch that costs more than a helicopter. He is a partner in a high-powered law firm in New York City representing a corporation that intends to build a huge cancer factory in the middle of Chickpea County and not give the residents any money at all.

STRONG leans in and points a finger defiantly at STANE.

Listen, Stane. I’m sure you’re used to getting your way, based on you being who you are –- and what you represent. But I’m not afraid of you. And I’m going to fight you on this, you hear me? Every step of the way, you son of a bitch.

I respect that, Michael. And in a way, I admire it. I used to be like you. Young, idealistic, hungry. Then I saw the big picture. I’m sure you will do your best and I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve got. I love a challenge, and I find them exceedingly rare to come by these days. But let me tell you something. I always win. Always. I didn’t get to where I am by being scared away by the barking of small dogs defending their yards. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? You’re a small dog, Michael. And I’m coming into your yard, like it or not.

Suddenly, MICHAEL kicks him in the shin.

Ow! What the fuck!

STANE retaliates with a spinning kick to MICHAEL’s midsection

It goes on like that, with them kicking each other, for another 38 pages. Well, there's a car chase in there too, but you get the idea.

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