Most Likely To
Bust Ghosts.
[WRITERS] EXERCISE #2: The Truth
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Every line
every dark shadow
every bad tooth
the jaw that hangs crooked from my skull, the dull eyes, the thin lips
untouched , uncared for, discarded.
My face.
The Beast.
Trapped in a mirror
the one that hangs neglected in my hallway.
it screams from it’s glass prison
but
I shout it down
throw it down
crush it under words as heavy as stone
Shut up
you wasteland of skin and bone
nobody sees you, nobody cares for the looks of you
Not even me.
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Introduction to the AFW online on demand master screenwriting class Dialogue Writing taught by author and award winning screenwriter Max Adams.
Even if you’re not planning on writing a screenplay ( and trust me, it doesn’t hurt to learn how this works ) Max’s classes can help sharpen your creative writing skills.
First check out this video -which pertains to dialogue and you’ll get a sense of what I am getting at.
Second, I’m going to paraphrase Max. Do you want your characters to be like a bad date or do you want them to score? Me, I’ve been a bad date and I’ve won one of those Ugly Date contests and trust me, you don’t want that to happen to anyone in your stories. You want them to be sharp and sexy. You want them to connect with your reader.
Stephen King advised in his book, ” On Writing ” that writers need to have a well stocked tool box. Speaking from experience I picked up more then a few handy ones from Max.
Introduction to the AFW online on demand master screenwriting class Dialogue Writing taught by author and award winning screenwriter Max Adams.
For more information about on demand master screenwriting classes from Max Adams & The AFW, click Here
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A writer
with pen in hand
an idea in her brain
trapped in dream that could mean she is not quite sane.
She questions the man who rides next to her on the train
Do you think I am a creep? Almost pretty but not quite there?
I was left for dead because I was not fuckable
by Prince Charming with Mommy issues.
Go ahead look away
I don’t care.
I have no face, no place to go, nowhere to be, I’m really not here she says
into his pale and frightened face.
No one will believe I was real.
They never have.
The writer with Pen in hand
an empty notebook waiting to be fed
could go anywhere unnoticed
and dress like a whore, a soccer mom, a serial killer with pink and yellow hair..
She could be sitting next to you, standing behind you right now.
The writer’s life is a dream
A nightmare that she could wake up from
if she was really asleep
and wanted to.