All posts tagged: character

What Maniac Enters A Screen Writing Competition With No Idea How To Write A Screenplay??? Oh Right. Me!

So yesterday morning I opened my inbox to find a shiny email from NYC Midnight The Screen Writing Challenge to say that the first round was officially open and we had eight days to write our twelve page screen plays based on the genre, subject, and character we have been assigned. Well I had the following: Genre: Action/Adventure Subject: Earthquake Character: Witness To A Crime So everything should be fine right? I mean, eight days to write twelve pages? That should be easy. That’s a pretty nice genre to get, pretty broad ranging if you think about it. Witness to a crime, well that’s pretty broad as well. Earthquake is a little odder but not impossible to work with. What’s the problem? Oh yes, I’ve not done this before and I don’t know how to write a screenplay. Ah. That might be an issue. Now let me clarify something before we continue. I’ve written two screenplays in my life. Both were during six form. That’s now six years in the past. The first was part …

Snowdrops

There are snowdrops growing on the hill beneath your house. I don’t think they’ve grown there before or I would have seen them. Felt their green stems bend beneath my back as we tumbled one over the other down the slopes free from winter covers at last, bathed in the chill of spring days which looked warmer than they were when the curtains first peeled back those mornings and our breath misted on the window panes.   You would have plucked them singularly with the same precision you gave to cakes on birthday celebrations, determined everyone should receive the same. My hands always tremble, when asked to thread the eye of a needle but yours would have slipped each stem between the brambles of my hair to build a crown of tiny buds, pockets of white inside the calamity that I would soon shake free.   When they ask me why I left the roof of my mouth becomes fly paper. The words stick and clot until my jaw aches from the press of things …

Case One: The Missing Boy

Gates called the flat opened planned, Felhorn called it a dump. It occupied the top floor of a condemned building where demolition had ceased halfway through, leaving only front half standing and the rest as rubble. At night Felhorn would dream of the floor suddenly collapsing beneath her bed, the chipboard walls they’d thrown up as protection from the elements tumbling with her for the sixteen floor drop, before waking soaked in sweat in the very sheets she’d just been clinging to, her throat alight and aching. Gates didn’t help much. After six hundred years of not needing to sleep he’d forgotten what it was like to have nightmares and couldn’t understand why she didn’t just change the story if it wasn’t going the way she wanted. Finding him standing above her with that frown on his face when she woke often ended with her sending him sprawling across the flat, magic burning in her veins as it jumped to the surface before she could quench it. It didn’t teach him, he still came whenever …

Hidden Mountains

From this distance it could have been a limo or a hearse. All that was clear was the length and the colour curving around a bend in the road near the bottom of the mountain, sun glare bouncing off the blacked out windows. Lydia watched it through the scope on her rifle, following it as it crept closer. ‘Visitors?’ Jeremy asked. He sat beside her, body wedged between the jagged boulders on the outcrop, one hand still wrapped around the tether that joined them to the rest of the team above. Despite the cold, his cheeks were grey and Lydia could feel him constantly shifting beside her. ‘I don’t think so,’ she answered. The vehicle had ground to stop and the passenger door popped open. Two figures emerged and swept around to the bonnet, waving at the windscreen for the driver to release the latch so they could lift it. ‘Looks like car trouble,’ she said. ‘Should we help them? It might be something easy and then they can be on their way.’ Lydia shook …

Quite Possibly

Eloise placed the wine glass down on the table untouched. ‘You didn’t seriously…?’ ‘Yep.’ ‘You just…?’ ‘Yep.’ ‘Does that mean…?’ ‘Quite possibly.’ ‘Well shit.’ Eloise shook her head. ‘We’ll be needing something stronger than this then.’ She stood and skirted around the armchair that Mandy occupied, squeezing her friend’s shoulder as she passed. ‘Have you told Lim yet?’ Mandy shook her head. ‘Right, of course,’ Eloise nodded. ‘You can’t.’ ‘You know the rules. I’m not really supposed to be telling you any of this, it’s only because your clearance allows for a bit of leeway that I’m even here.’ ‘Not this much leeway Mand, we both know you’re only telling me this so you have some sort of net if everything goes wrong.’ Mandy grimaced. ‘It won’t go wrong though, will it? You’re the best and you’re going to come home.’ She handed Mandy a tumbler of whisky and returned to the settee. ‘Drink up before my Grandfather’s ghost turns up to tell us off for wasting his best bottle on such a gloomy night. He …

Chaos Walking

The clock on the wall seemed to have stopped, the second hand sticking between ten to and nine to, sporadically twitching like a stick insect taking an inordinate amount of time to die. Lilly gripped her palms together harder, trying to ignore the slick, sticky feeling of sweat squishing between flesh. ‘Is this what you’re life is like then?’ she asked. She didn’t look up but she felt Henry shift slightly in the hard plastic seat next to him, his back poker straight as they waited. Did it hurt? she wondered. What was it like getting shot if you knew you couldn’t die?  ‘No,’ he replied. ‘My life isn’t usually this… chaotic.’ He lapsed into silence again and Lilly went back to watching the second hand on the clock fighting to break free. Chaos, that’s what this was, no that was what Philip was, a walking talking ball of chaos.  ‘Did he kiss you?’ Lilly looked up this time. She could just about make out the blood stain steadily seeping out from beneath the cover of Henry’s jacket, …

Doodling Again

For some reason hands and eyes are the hardest bits for me to draw when drawing people. I’m okayish when doing simpler drawings like the first one in this slideshow, but get to drawings where there is an actual face involved, or better yet, an angled face, I’m screwed. Have you noticed that the woman’s hand is hidden? You do not want to know how many times I had to redraw this image before I managed to get the eyes mostly in line. I’ve also found that upon cropping, disproportionate features look even more so! Anyway, the only way to get around this is for me to keep practising, which is what I’m doing. So I’ll keep drawing and writing and screaming at wonky eyes and writers block because apparently that is what happens to people when they decide to take a creative route as a serious option for what they want to do with their lives. Let me know that I’m not alone. Tell me about your creative tantrums below. Go on! Vent!

Attempting To Draw – Again

Headquarters relaunches at the end of October so I thought it might be a good idea if I got my pens and pencil out and had a go at drawing my characters for myself. This means that I actually have to learn how to draw original figures properly. So I did what I always do and I bought a book and what you can see below is my attempt to follow their instructions on how to actually draw the human body in certain positions. I changed the hair and the clothing to try and make the figure look more like on of my characters and I went off course in a few places because I couldn’t do it the way it was shown on the page. Now if I can just get the hand of this tablet thing I might even be able to add some glossy colour to these drawings. I’ll let you know if I manage it. So far now here is the pencil design and the pen outline.

Darkened Daughter Update

Today all I could think about was writing, but then I got home and suddenly all that motivation decided it would rather talk to me later and right now there was a really good episode of Star Gate on so it should watch that instead. I’m bad at that. I’m bad for telling myself that something I was really motivated about just an hour before could be done just as well tomorrow and really, right now the sofa/bed/chair is damn, flipping comfy. I’m getting better though. See tonight I sat down, [after Star Gate] and wrote another 600 words of Darkened daughter and over the last week and bit I’ve written close to 12,000 words of the first draft. I’m a quarter of the way through and I now how a fully mapped out plan of where my characters, and more importantly my plot line, are going. Don’t get me wrong, it sucks. It sucks a lot. I’m going to have to go back and tear it limb from limb to try and work out …