Reworking Imagism Poem, Adapting it for the Screen, Draft

Orange, Snowdrops

Sun. Sunset. Forest in a blanket, cluster of snowdrops, poking through. A chill wind brushes the drops, they whisper as they move.

A scene that suggests that it is winter, why it is winter, where we are and why the film is beginning like this.

Why is it winter?
Its early February, and it has been a harsh winter, one of the harshest in recent years, in this fabled town in America.

Where are we?
A fabled town in America, named….

Why is it beginning like this?
To show that we are in winter, and that the protagonists live in/near the forests, rather than in the suburbs/city. This tells the viewer that the protagonists are solitary, and don’t engage in company in less it is each other.

Scene one

A wide shot of the landscape. The camera slowly pans horizontally, letting the audience take in the scene. The sky is misty, save for a sliver of orange sun shining through. The sun has almost set. We are in an expansive forest, covered with a thick blanket of snow. Many of the trees are bare, although the fir trees keep their coats. A small log cabin sits in the distance to the right of the shot , a gingerbread house, with smoke billowing from the top. It is set in a large clearing, as though the trees give it a wide berth. An old truck sits outside, with a couple of trees in the back, waiting to be chopped. It is deathly silent, save for the whisper of snowdrops blowing in the chill wind. It looks like the picture of Christmas, if Christmas had lost its cheer. There is a calm yet almost forbidding atmosphere to the scene, as though at any moment an incident could occur to break the silence, and that if it did, the makers of the noise would be sorely sorry that they had done it.

‘It was one of the worst winters the residents of ….. had ever seen in living memory.

Genre-Writing Exercises 1 and 2 (Imagism)

Orange, Snowdrops

Sun. Sunset. Forest in a blanket, cluster of snowdrops, poking through. A chill wind brushes the drops, they whisper as they move.

Blue egg, Steep Mountains

A storm above harsh cold slate, jagged, wet, forbidding. Backs are turned from its impressive form. A nest, sheltered, crowded, jostled. A single blue egg falls; the smash is never heard.

Auntie Ann-Mei (Work from Tutorial 1)

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Auntie Ann-Mei was a dancer in a ‘former life’, or at least that is what she told me when I asked. I never asked Auntie what she meant by a ‘former life’, but my mother said that she had changed so much, that it feels like she is a different person from what she is today. Auntie Ann-Mei told me lots of stories of the brilliant shows she was in, with her beautiful satin dresses, and the colourful plumage’s of feathers that often perched on the top of her head. There was a gleam in her eye when she talked about the ‘old days’, a gleam that seemed both shiny and shadowed at the same time. Once, when I was about 15 or 16, Auntie Ann-Mei told me of the men that she would meet after her shows, they would wait at her dressing-room door with flowers, some with extravagant bouquets, others with petrol station bunches, all appreciated by my Auntie.

People Watching

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A group of young girls sit at the table, giggling and laughing to themselves. They cluster around one girl in particular – the Birthday Girl. Her identity is as clear as day, she is the centre of attention and today is her day. Presents litter the tables, the wrappings discarded on the quest to find out the identity of the gift, each one is more pretty than the last. She is enjoying the attention, enjoying being the queen bee, at least for today. From her excitement at being fawned over, I would guess she isn’t the resident queen bee. Ah, the usual leader of this particular clique sits in the corner, observing the commotion. She is loathe to relinquish her power, even for a day, and conveys this by sitting on the sidelines – a classic display of clique dynamics. Continue reading

What if… (Tutorial Work in Progress)

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What if? – Create a ‘what if scenario and place a character with your key traits into it.

I sit in the waiting room anxiously, scuffing my toes on the linoleum floor. I am the only one waiting, my mother sits beside me, pretending to read a magazine, but I can see her glance at me when she thinks I’m not looking.
She’s worried. Continue reading

Journey

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I stumble out of the door, keys still in hand, my bag bashing against my ribs, as I half run, half walk to the bus stop. I’m forced to stop in my tracks – the main road is full of early morning commuters, so I frantically search for a space in between the sea of cars, as my bus is due. I see the bus rounding the corner. I make a break for it, running recklessly, hoping that I don’t get knocked over for my stupidity.The driver sees me belting down the pavement and takes pity on me. I offer him a grateful smile as I scramble around my purse for my fare. Damn. I only have two pounds. I grudgingly pay an extra 70 pence, and head for a seat. I settle near the back and fit my earphones in, then turn on my music and begin my 30 minutes of peace.  Continue reading

Hair Cuts

Her mane is bedraggled, it is in a sorry state. The last hairdresser in control, had left it too late.

It troubles her greatly the state of her hair, she got herself a new stylist – one she thought would care.

They seemed good on paper, all of their ideas written down. And so she went with her choice, the one she had found.

The mess that was left, they said, was much too great. They didn’t seem to care that their plans were met with hate.

And so they began to cut away the hair, they didn’t seem to think it deserved a lot of care.

They cut and they cut, so it was short and unhappy, they didn’t seem to bother them that the client was snappy.

The client wanted gentle snips to ease the distress, they thought that gentleness would mar any progress.

So now she is left with the pain to bear,  of a series of drastic cuts that she now deems unfair.