Lately, I've been working on a short film script that I hope will be funny when it's done. Being funny AND telling a good story at the same time is harder than it sounds. (Ever seen "The Informant"? Eeeek.) Again, I used a prompt from Writer Digest's "Promptly" to practice. The task this time is, using 500 words or less: "Write your most memorable report card story. Or, alternately, write a story about a character who has failed an unfailable class."
This entry is slightly autobiographical, by the way. Which may or may not make it more funny to you. Also, I had to shave several words to cut it down to 500. It seems a little choppy because of that - that and because in my head it's more a script than literature. Enjoy!
Chad’s "Learning Problem"
It’s two in the afternoon. Chad Chandler, who had a fairly carb-loaded lunch, is resting quietly in the crook of his arm. His teacher thinks he’s reading along in his history book. The student next to him is laughing at the sight of Chad drooling on his desk.
A loud crackle interrupts the teacher’s monotone reading on the Louisiana Purchase. “Chad Chandler, Please report to the office.”
Chad jerks awake. The sudden movement garners more attention than the incredibly loud and unexpected noise of the classroom speaker. If Chad’s neighbor had been drinking anything, it would have come straight out of his nose.
Everyone is already looking at Chad when he smiles confidently and slams his book shut. The realization that he had been drooling hits him the moment he removes his books from his desk, but he waits until he gets to the hallway before he wipes his chin. He walks nonchalantly, yawning all the way to the office, but the look on Chad’s face changes when he walks into the school counselor’s conference room. His mother is waiting for him.
Chad declares, “I don’t know what this is about. I didn’t do anything. I promise.”
A couple of teachers, the principal, and an unknown woman in a suit enter the room. Everyone says hello, settles into an office chair, and commences shuffling paper according to rank. Chad and his mom have no paper, and the principal has an inch-high stack. The unknown official trumps the paper shuffling completely. She opens a laptop and starts clicking.
The principal takes the lead. “I guess I’ll begin the meeting. Chad, Mrs. Chandler, I’d like to introduce you to Mrs. Grace Fontenot. She is the School Psychologist, but we share her with three other middle schools in the district, so we don’t see her a lot around here.”
Mrs. Chandler replies, “It’s nice to meet you.” The look on her face is complete confusion. She’s not sure yet if it will be “nice” to meet her or not.
The principal continues. “Well, we are having this meeting because we need to discuss Chad’s report card. As you know, the last report card of the year indicates whether a student passes or fails a class. We are sorry to say it, but Chad, you have failed eighth grade reading.”
Chad’s mother looks disappointed, but not surprised. She seems a bit relieved, actually.
Mrs. Fontenot chimes in. “You are going to need summer school to catch up, but first we need to do some evaluations to see if there is a learning problem that we can work on for next year.”
“A learning problem?” Chad’s mother jumps up. “Are you kidding me?”
Suddenly, another announcement interrupts the atmosphere around Chad.
“This is Mrs. Butcher, the school newspaper advisor. I’d like the congratulate Chad Chandler. He has won a national writing award and has been invited to Columbia University in New York City to accept it in person. We’re very proud of you Chad.”
Friday, June 18, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Red, Yellow, Black and Under 500 Words
The following is my submission to a little writing exercise/contest from Writer's Digest. "Promptly" is a running blog that helps prompt writers to get creative... and get to writing! For this one, the instructions were simply: "In scene, explain why there's a red and yellow substance on your shoes, a black one on your gloves, and a smile on your face." Lately, I've been working on getting some art supplies together to send to an orphanage in Haiti. This is where my inspiration came from. While this scenario is completely fictional, I want to thank my friends Caroline and Dave for making it easy to come up with character names. :)
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Caroline’s long skirt flares and whips around her as she twirls about on a makeshift concrete dance floor. The man she’s dancing with is her grandfather’s age, has much darker skin than her, and is barefoot. A row of children sit to the side, watching and giggling as Caroline smiles at them every fourth beat or so. But, there is no music. Just the humming of Caroline’s dance partner.
When the impromptu performance is over, the dancers bow as forty-eight little hands clap enthusiastically. Caroline gracefully removes her gardening gloves to clap for her partner. Caroline is beaming. She’s also blushing a little.
After a few minutes, the children settle down and Caroline tries to turn their attention back to the task they had been working on before the dancing interrupted them: they must finish their artwork before all of their paint dries out. Art supplies are scarce in Port-Au-Prince, and she doesn’t want to waste one drop of paint. As she sits down on the dirty floor next to the youngest child, a few of the kids continue to giggle at her. She tries more instructions in French, but they keep laughing. She investigates the source of the hilarity, and among the Creole and laughter she manages to recognize the word “shoe”.
Caroline looks down at her shoes and gasps as she realizes that she and her dance partner had danced right through the kids’ paint. Not only was there paint on her shoes, but there were also red and yellow footprints all over the floor of the newly built classroom. She jumps up, grabs a rag and tries to wipe paint off the floor, but it’s too late. The warm breeze flowing through the open-air classroom had dried the paint almost instantly. She reaches down to test several areas for wet paint, but only manages to discover a black substance on her gloves as well. Even that won’t come off.
Completely embarrassed and disappointed that she has ruined the floor, wasted paint, and damaged the gloves that she planned to give one of the nursery workers, she rises slowly from her knees in the middle of the room. Suddenly, Caroline hears a gasp from behind her, and she knows it’s the mission trip leader, Dave. She slowly turns to explain, but before she says one word, he proclaims:
“It’s beautiful! Caroline, how did you do this? It’s wonderful. We have to take a picture.”
As she poses with the kids and the floor, Caroline explains. “I was helping one of the workers sand and paint the new chalkboard. He was humming a song, and I was trying to tell him that it sounded pretty. Then he just grabbed my hand and led me out and we started dancing.”
After a quick flash of the camera, the children hurry across the floor to dance around in Caroline’s red and yellow footprints.
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The offical link is HERE.
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Caroline’s long skirt flares and whips around her as she twirls about on a makeshift concrete dance floor. The man she’s dancing with is her grandfather’s age, has much darker skin than her, and is barefoot. A row of children sit to the side, watching and giggling as Caroline smiles at them every fourth beat or so. But, there is no music. Just the humming of Caroline’s dance partner.
When the impromptu performance is over, the dancers bow as forty-eight little hands clap enthusiastically. Caroline gracefully removes her gardening gloves to clap for her partner. Caroline is beaming. She’s also blushing a little.
After a few minutes, the children settle down and Caroline tries to turn their attention back to the task they had been working on before the dancing interrupted them: they must finish their artwork before all of their paint dries out. Art supplies are scarce in Port-Au-Prince, and she doesn’t want to waste one drop of paint. As she sits down on the dirty floor next to the youngest child, a few of the kids continue to giggle at her. She tries more instructions in French, but they keep laughing. She investigates the source of the hilarity, and among the Creole and laughter she manages to recognize the word “shoe”.
Caroline looks down at her shoes and gasps as she realizes that she and her dance partner had danced right through the kids’ paint. Not only was there paint on her shoes, but there were also red and yellow footprints all over the floor of the newly built classroom. She jumps up, grabs a rag and tries to wipe paint off the floor, but it’s too late. The warm breeze flowing through the open-air classroom had dried the paint almost instantly. She reaches down to test several areas for wet paint, but only manages to discover a black substance on her gloves as well. Even that won’t come off.
Completely embarrassed and disappointed that she has ruined the floor, wasted paint, and damaged the gloves that she planned to give one of the nursery workers, she rises slowly from her knees in the middle of the room. Suddenly, Caroline hears a gasp from behind her, and she knows it’s the mission trip leader, Dave. She slowly turns to explain, but before she says one word, he proclaims:
“It’s beautiful! Caroline, how did you do this? It’s wonderful. We have to take a picture.”
As she poses with the kids and the floor, Caroline explains. “I was helping one of the workers sand and paint the new chalkboard. He was humming a song, and I was trying to tell him that it sounded pretty. Then he just grabbed my hand and led me out and we started dancing.”
After a quick flash of the camera, the children hurry across the floor to dance around in Caroline’s red and yellow footprints.
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The offical link is HERE.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
INT. MY LIVING ROOM - DAY
FADE IN:
COURTNEY sits on her loveseat, facing the window. The view is blocked by the computer screen of her laptop, which rests (appropriately) on her lap. Her music plays in the background - "Shadowfeet" by Brook Fraser at the moment.
She thinks (and in the movies this would be a voice over):
She goes to blogger.com, fixes up the page for a bible study that she needs to finish writing, and then begins a new blog. A personal one. One where she can write about the people and things she loves. One where she can write just to write. And, one where she can share the things that make her life worth living.
COURTNEY sits on her loveseat, facing the window. The view is blocked by the computer screen of her laptop, which rests (appropriately) on her lap. Her music plays in the background - "Shadowfeet" by Brook Fraser at the moment.
She thinks (and in the movies this would be a voice over):
I should really keep a journal, or a blog. There's so many things that I want to say, sometimes only to myself, that needs to be let out of my skull. It's like pressure building up over time, and whoever is near me when it needs to explode gets the brunt of my crazy mental force. I would spare some folks' ears and time if I just wrote it down.
She goes to blogger.com, fixes up the page for a bible study that she needs to finish writing, and then begins a new blog. A personal one. One where she can write about the people and things she loves. One where she can write just to write. And, one where she can share the things that make her life worth living.
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