Despite some chastising words from my writing "buddy", and in the throes of a horrible bout of insomnia, I managed to finally punch out my first 3 pages for Script Frenzy. Only 97 to go...
But I'm not afraid. That was only the first scene, and I kept it a bit short because I'm afraid of my superfluous tongue. I'm also certain that I'll have much more to put into it once I have a bit more of the characters' backgrounds in place.
See, my first scene is actually the last scene that occurs, chronologically. Furthermore, my final scene will be the one just before it. While I'm not expecting the jizz-worthy moment at the end of The Sixth Sense, my intent is that, having seen the very last moment of the play, you will understand the true impact of what is going on in the first scene. This was done even more incredibly in Memento, but I can only dream of having that kind of power. My humble hope is that the tragedy of Alex's life will be more tangible when you already know the ending.
As I wrote, I began feeling uncomfortably giddy at the things I knew this poor girl was about to endure. I would clap my hands in delight as I crafted a new torture for innocent Alex. What instrument of brutality would I next use to break her soul? Perhaps this is the joy Satan finds at twisting our lives for the worse as he wickedly portrays them as better.
Did I just compare myself to the unholy one? Because I think I'm going to feel like a complete douche bag by the end of this play. I have far too much empathy for my main character, and while the same might not be said for my future adventurers, I hope I do not forget her pain... for it is mine.
On a side note, I changed the name of the play to Alex's Pearl. The combination of immature amusement from my compatriots and the lack of eloquence that Alex's Oyster presents convinced me that a subtle shift was necessary. I think the entendré remains, and it rolls nicely off the tongue. Plus, I hate oysters
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