I would like to thank everyone on the feedback about Firmly Disenchanted. I really want to flesh out that story and finish it. However.

I have to put it on the back burner for now because I want to tell a different story. This other one started as a screenplay, so I'm attempting to finish it in that format. Honestly, I haven't worked on the screenplay in a couple of days (i mean really worked on it), because my life keeps getting in the way.

Right now I've just got the beginning and the tenative end.

It's hard, but I want to see it through until it is finished and I can show it to someone who's willing to read a 100 page script. I want to be able to show it to that person unabashedly.

This might take a while, but after it's finished, I want to finish "Firmly Disenchanted."

Here's a transcript of the beginning of the script:
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Ext. Afternoon. Establishing shot of a largish, white house on the corner of two streets. Cut to the sidewalk in front of the building, again to the front door, again to the interior. (3 fast cuts, each one zooms in slightly with a broken up, jagged feeling, almost as if someone is teleporting thirty feet every few frames.)

Int. Afternoon. A disheveled living room has shoes, jackets, grungy socks and taco bell wrappers littered on almost every surface. Seth appears to be sleeping on a couch, with an aerospace engineering textbook open over his face, while Nate is working (playing poker online) on a laptop.

Nate screams and flails his arms: FUCK. Fucking shit on a . . . fuck. FUCK. What the fuck. Fucking... (he begins to trail off and sputter, forming only a few more real words) Who the fuck does that?

Seth doesn't move, but from under the book he says something inaudible.

Nate (tersely, without looking up from his computer): WHAT?

Seth lets the book fall to the floor as he sits up.

Seth: I said, "How many finals do you have Tuesday?"

Nate: Is it...? (he looks up from his computer and glances around) What day is it?

Seth: Sunday. It's Sunday. How many?

Nate: I don't know, two maybe. (gestures to his computer) This fucking asshole...

Seth: Maybe you shouldn't play the game if it gets you so strung out. Just drop it if you can't be Zen about the shit, you know?

Nate: Fuck you. Do you even know who I am? Agriculture infuriates me.

Seth: Ri-ight. How many finals do you have?

Nate: I dunno, I'd have to check my ... (he starts looking around without getting up, moving shit around near him, but making no significant progress). Fuck, where are my syllabuses?

Seth: Ballpark it. Ten. Two. ... Less?

Nate: Why are you crawling up my ass about this? Like one, maybe. (he starts looking around again) Where the fuck...

Seth: I have five. FIVE. So I need my fucking sleep. Oh, and it's syllabi, by the way.

Nate: Who's the English major here? That's how it's pronounced, number boy.

Seth: Whatever.

The conversation stalls, Seth closes his eyes and Nate goes back to his computer.

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It goes on from there. Comments? You can click on the comments link at the end of this post, OR hit up the tagboard. The possibilities are almost limitless, if limitless is three, and almost limitless is two.

Anyway, after that conversation the characters decide to go to a coffee shop. It's self-important drivel really, pretentious as all hell, but I'm going to finish it. Once the plot is finished, I can make the rest of it better.

It takes so much patience to fill in all the dots between the beginning (which i've been working on) and the end (which i've been thinking about), because I have found that I absolutely cannot just write it chronologically. When I'm writing it I have to jump around and write whatever conversation I'm thinking about, so it takes a lot of cutting and pasting to get something that flows.

Anyway, it's late and I'm finished working on shit for now, because I have to work a job I don't give a shit about tomorrow. I guess I just wanted to squeeze a little more time out of my day off.

Good night kids. Don't work too hard for anyone but yourself.

Nate