#writing a screenplay

[filmcourage]

What The Last 5 Years Of Screenwriting Has Taught Me - Adam Davis

Watch the video interview on YouTube here.

[ljmoorewrites]

How can I become a writer?

Write.

But I don't know where to start.

Write.

But I'm worried.

WRITE.

What if nobody likes it?

W R I T E

What if it's not very good?

Write. Write. WRITE. WRITE.

W

R

I

T

E

Write

Write. Write. Write. Write. Write. Write.

Write.

Write

Write

Write

Write

Write

Write

Write

Write

W R I T E

Write write write

Write

Write

[gerardwaygirlmoments]

Picture of Dorian Gray AU where he's a celebrity in the modern day (broadly speaking) and his stans post pics of him looking the same through the years on Twitter and caption them "How you age when you're unproblematic 💖💖💖"

[fervi-g]

The Virgin Suicides, written by Jeffrey Eugenides and adapted to the screen by Sofia Coppola

[theabigailthorn]

i'm working on a little mini-video (not a full Philosophy Tube) about my acting and writing process - it should be fun!

no call to action here or anything lol I just wanted to share this cause I'm a little proud of it, it's coming together well!

[holychopshopgalaxy]

thomas hamilton ghost of all time he has NO agency in the narrative everything we see and know is told entirely through the lens of other people's stories and memories and actions, his entrance isn't his choice neither is his exit neither is his resurrection. literally just a spectre that is pulled in and out by the storytelling rituals of everyone else

[voidsuites]

i want your time (don’t ask me questions)

“SORRY… just give me a sec,” the blond man above you huffs, muscular arms on both sides of your head as he keeps himself propped above you. he adjusts on his elbows with a small grunt, eyes narrowed in enough frustration to create that familiar little crease between his brows. “one second, i promise.”

he’s making you— your body, really— wait. not intentionally, of course, but it’s happening regardless. there’s been a handful of moments in art’s life where his body’s put him in this kind of position; freezing under pressure when he needs it to perform.

it’d happened the night he’d asked tashi to be his coach— she’d said yes, they’d gone back to her hotel room, things had gotten heavy— but of course he’d got caught up in his head and things hadn’t… risen to the occasion. they’d gotten there eventually with tashi’s encouragement, but it’s just humiliating that it’d happened then— and now it’s happening again.

tashi had always been able to coax it out of art with her no-nonsense outlook, and before her it’d been patrick and his devil-may-care attitude. they both knew how to read him in their own unique ways, whatever needed to get done to get art where he needed to be and to get things over the finish line.

so maybe he’s still figuring things out— figuring you out. where you fit in into all of this… whatever role you’re meant to play in the twisted process of getting art out of his own head. are you going to coach him up or goad him into oblivion?

“i’m sorry,” he hisses again, and with another grunt he drops to the mattress beside you and lays flat on his back. it takes all of the strength within him not to just fist his fingers into his hair and pull it out in clumps. “fuck.”

he can’t bear to look at you; you’re probably looking at him like he’s some broken thing that you hadn’t signed up for when you agreed to go steady. you’re younger— younger than he’d normally go for considering he’s got lily and the tabloids are always looking for a reason to follow him around— but you’re an angel and he’s been awful with saying no to the things he can’t have now that he’s retired and single.

long gone are the days of “earning” breaks from trainings and longing looks at the things not on his diet plan (no more need to sneak fries from lily’s happy meals) but what good is having the freedom to do and have what he wants when he can’t even get it up?

you’d signed up for art donaldson, not some middle-aged guy who can’t get it together and make his partner feel just as good as they do with him. what good was his body if it couldn’t perform? he couldn’t be there for patrick, couldn’t continue playing for tashi—

art stands in a huff and pulls the waistband of his briefs up over his hips before his hands rest on his hips. he starts pacing the length of the bed, but not without looking your way guiltily while you pull the bedsheets up over yourself and make his stomach plunge. damnit, donaldson.

“i-it’s not you,” he reasons, because it’s the truth, “it’s me. i can’t get out of my damn head—”

“art,” you try and cut in, but he’s not having it. not when he’s like this. “art, babe, what’s wrong—”

oh, god… here we go again. stop asking questions. “nothing, just give me a second—”

“— art, hold on—” stop prying, stop trying to find a way in—

“— this happens sometimes. i promise it’s not you—”

“art.” he barely has time to protest again when your hand clamps around his wrist, nor does he try to. your eyes have gone wide as they plead for him to make sense; to put words to thoughts and actions to those words. “… baby. talk to me.”

and he melts, broad shoulders sagging before he drops back to the mattress. it should be worrisome to see a man like him practically cave in on himself when he lays back on the mattress, but it’s the rare side of art donaldson that the media doesn’t get a glimpse of. here in this moment, he’s less of the unshakable tennis mogul the public knows him for and more of the mortal man desperate for comfort that lies beneath.

“will you… will you hold me?” art asks eventually, swallowing tightly when he looks over in your direction again. you’d think he’d asked for the impossible with the way he holds himself; hunched shoulders, downcast eyes, and blunt nails digging into the heels of his palms. “please?”

he doesn’t know how you’ll react— if you’ll laugh at such a request, scoff and look at him with disdain— but none of that comes. instead, you scoot his way and let your arms wind around him and your chin settle into the crook of his shoulder.

“i can do that,” you whisper. gentle fingers trace the skin of his side, over the dips and grooves of his ribs. “whatever you need— whatever you want.”

he swallows again, ignoring the guilt in his chest as he nods. “okay.” he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t waiting for the “but” to leave you; waiting for the other shoe to fall in return for your patience… but it doesn’t. it’s not going to. maybe that’s where you fit into all of this: being the unwavering support that allows him to bend even when it goes against all expectation.

his calloused fingers curl around your own after another stroke over his torso, and slowly but surely he brings them to his lips to press a kiss over your knuckles. “i love you.”

if he can’t show it to you by following you blindly for years on end or by winning you endless slam titles to prove it, maybe the words are enough. maybe they can be enough, this time.

and maybe he can be enough too. no more tennis to eat up all his time (even if he misses it on occasion) just the things that are important and matter. lily, the foundation, you… and everything else he’ll keep himself open to.

“i love you too.” art’s sure his sigh of relief doesn’t go unnoticed by you, considering the early hour and the air of silence that accompanies it in moments like this. you shift closer and—

… oh. there we go. a snort leaves the blond as he shakes his head, glancing down briefly before he turns to you with that boyish grin of his.

“… were you still up for another round?”

[pluvioloulou]

Need to see Buck absolutely screaming, crying, losing it over Tommy's helicopter going down

Need him to be doing chest compressions but be pulled away by Chim so Hen can take over

Need Tommy to wake up in a hospital bed with Buck asleep in the chair next to him, holding his hand with his head rested on the bed

Need Buck to see he's finally awake, hug him and tell him to never leave him again

[ilexdiapason]

just saw a post ragging on the concept of "start a new paragraph where you'd imagine a new camera angle" so i'm here to say that you don't need to change the medium you make art in just because some rando on tumblr thinks that means you don't like the form of art you are choosing to create. if you want your prose to flow like camera shots, if you want to write your poetry like a recipe book, if you want to make physical art that looks like ms paint or digital art that looks like watercolors, you're cool as hell, don't let people get you down about it. also it's a visualisation technique not a sign that you secretly want to be writing a movie instead.

[dionysiaproductions]

Well, well, well if it isn't that placeholder plot point I put in the outline while I was sleep deprived. I knew we'd meet again one day

[filmcourage]

Why Is It That Some Writers Never Get Writer's Block? - Billy Van Zandt

Watch the video interview on YouTube here.

[valtsv]

Please write your inception screenplay and will that the film be produced either after the abolition of intellectual property or whenever inception in particular becomes free game

o7 yes my liege

[silverysongs]

I had a thought while reading Persuasion - this book is SAD, and it's sad because of the juxtaposition between the past and the present. Anne is constantly (at least in chapter 8) comparing her memories of her time with Wentworth to the events happening in front of her: their affection vs. unacquantaince, her former lack of knowledge about the navy (until Wentworth informed her) vs. the Musgroves' lack of knowledge now. with all that said - I think a different film adaptation of Persuasion could actually do the Greta Gerwig Little Women flashback/vignette trope REALLY well. i just want cute little scenes of younger Anne/Frederick being affectionate and then flashing back forward to the present! the warm lighting of the past contrasted with the cold lighting of the present. and then that cold blue light turning warmer and richer as the story progresses.

[bodhrancomedy]

The novel ones are all real situations in my novels by the way, the screenwriting one are complied from friends and my own experiences.

Funnily enough, I actually prefer writing screenplays because of the limits. My novels are fantastical magical other worlds with dragons and sorcerers, but my screenplays are mostly realist family comedy-dramas.

(Except the Baby’s First Steampunk Horror and The Mystery Series Set in an Asylum For Were-People, but they’re exceptions)

[dr-spectre]

FINALE REWRITE

By: Dr. Spectre

it's finally time to show y'all what I've been cooking.

This will be in a script format because that is where I feel the most comfortable as a writer, plus games are written in this format.

This rewrite will take into account that you have read through the Squid Sisters Stories as well as the Sunken Scrolls.

Once you have pressed read more, you will get bombared with over 20 pages of writing, so be forewarned...

Anyhow, ENJOY!!!!!!!!

[wardensantoineandevka]

just AHHHH