[Mister Saint]: 79.Contest Entries.Screenwriting Clinic Example

This will be an example piece for the Screenwriting Clinic Contest. Note that correct screenplay format will be too difficult to place in the wiki like this, so the example will most likely be in play format. The two are close (but never ever interchangeable!)

I will include a few screenplay format tenets and define them here, but note that entrants DO NOT HAVE TO.

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May 24-June 8 example

In this piece, my goal is to show the audience that Will is intensely insecure and unhappy with himself (character trait) and how Michael is a casual, devil-may-give-a-crap guy. I'll also try to show the audience how he would prefer a miracle remedy over working to improve himself... (plot point).

Also note the hook here. Guess what they're discussing.

1. Int. Starbucks #918--Day

(This is called a 'slug' or 'slug line.' One of thse happens at the beginning of every scene. It contains the scene number, the abbreviated word Int. or Ext. (standing for Interior or Exterior to tell where the scene is) and the location of the action, followed by the time of day.)


The scene opens with a close up shot of cleavage surrounded by a Starbucks shirt. We can hear garbled conversation, but it is muddled, as if we are listening from underwater.


Man's Voice: (insistently) Will. Will. Will.


Our view abruptly cuts to a close up on the warm brown eyes of WILL, a 22-year-old college student with a lanky build, who is the owner of a 29-date losing streak. (Note: When characters are first introduced in screenplays, their names are in ALL CAPS, followed generally by a short description)

Our view cuts back to the breasts, and flips back to Will's eyes.


Man's Voice: Hey!



As we look into Will's eyes, a hand shoots into our view, snapping its thick fingers. Will blinks as if waking from a dream, and we can see KATHLEEN, a 26-year-old Starbucks manager and owner of the cleavage in question, staring daggers at Will.



Will: Oh, sorry Michael. I was just, um, thinking about getting my mom some coffee. To take home.



MICHAEL shoots Will a disbelieving look, but smiles a little anyway. A much larger, and somewhat older, man than Will, Michael takes Will's shoulder and guides him to a table.



Michael: Yeah, coffee with milk, right?



Will's face goes slightly red.



Michael: Just sit down, man. And relax. You look like you haven't shit for a week.



Will sits at the table, where Michael's laptop is sitting open next to a cup of coffee that reads 'Grande'.



Will: Look, I dunno if I wanna do this. I've never done anything like this before.

Michael: I said relax. You've got to be most uptight motherfucker I've ever met in all my life.

Will: Sorry.

Michael: Man up and stop apologizing.

Will: Okay. Sorry.



Michael rolls his eyes.



Michael: Just tell me what you want. Red, brown...?

Will: Can I see some first?

Michael: (sarcastically) You wanna test drive one, too?

Will: Really?

Michael: Hell no, boy! God!

Will: Sorry.

Michael: Come on, man, I ain't got all damn day. Red? You look like a red man.

Will: I like strawberry gold.

Michael: What are you, a fag?

Will: ... what?

Michael: I'm fuckin' with you. Does your mama know you're here?

Will goes a little red again.

Will: Of course not.

Michael: Honestly, I was hopin' she woulda give you the money herself. If you were my kid and I'd be happy to fork over a grand to get your butthole to unpucker.

Will: You sound like a great role model.

Michael: Motherfucker, man.



Will stares at Michael, as if waiting for the rest of that statement. Michael stares back, as if certain his message has been conveyed.



Will: So, uh... red?

Michael smiles, and turns the laptop to face Will. In the bright glow of the screen, Will's illuminated face suddenly takes on a nervous, anxious expression.

Michael: Yeah. I think she'll do.

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