Last night, I had another sleep in. Two days in a row, and I can proudly say that they weren’t because I was stuck to skimming online junk again. The reason was I was trying to finish a script for a friend in the industry. It has been a while since I let my fingers fly, and my imaginations with them.
Eventhough I was given a pre-defined storyline, I had the reigns to the details. The exertion to think and work out the visual scenes and dialogues were took me back to my university honed skills. In those late night hours of adrenaline rush, words (not English) that I didn’t realize I’d known were wrenched out of my mind, strung together, and laid down as fast as I could manage. The script is only limited to what the eyes could see, and ears could listen, yet the subtleties that must be told, through the weave of action and reaction in characters, in incidences is nothing sort of magic. I used to love reading scripts. They have to be visually potent. Few thoughts to bog the story down. Existent motivations and internal troubles are not spelled out in words. You just have to read between the lines, or tease out from the whole story.
I guess that is one of the reasons why I still find reading Harry Potter enjoyable. Whilst novels with, “He was a bla bla bla… His father was bla… bla… bla… She didn’t know that bla… bla… bla.. Twenty years ago she was bla… bla.. bla…” normally make a challenge read for me. Thrillers are always a clincher, and too much internal monologue makes a lousy story. Case in point that Twilight horror. Not the Zone. The… you know.
As for my friend’s script, it’s requested at the last minute and it wasn’t my best work, but I sure had a heck of a time letting my screenwriting drive kicking in.