"Hands" My First Screenplay & Early Writing Projects (Pg 3)
Why Don Quixote?
Above is a description of "Hands" for SA Monthly Magazine. Did I ever think that I would be this far in the journey of "writing?"
The answer is a resounding "maybe." When I was younger I would constantly be pulled aside by teachers for my writing. At first, it wasn't for good reasons...
When I was in 2nd grade, I was told by a teacher, "You need to use periods."
Up until that point, writing consisted of writing sentences with one solid period at the very end.
That is, in the first grade, only one sentence was required. Now, we started on paragraphs...and building those paragraphs into one page stories.
I carried my first grade writing into 2nd. I would finish out my entire story; then signify its completion with a single period at the very end.
I understood: a period signified the end of a thought. While yes, that is what periods stand for, I would write a whole story with zero periods until the very end. Technically, I was on point with the final period being "the end" of my thought. Then, sometimes, I would write out "the end" as if the reader couldn't figure it out. I feel at times I would write "the end" especially for my teacher...
This annoyed my 2nd grade teacher for a while. She just couldn't understand why I wasn't understanding the idea of periods and reiterating to me that periods signified the end of a thought only had us going in circles.
"I know...oh my gosh is she dense?" I would think to myself (and sometimes out of myself).
If we were on the "same page" then why did I insist on zero punctuation until the very end of my story?
Well, that was the end of my "one big thought."
There had to be a way to break through to me. This teacher was like the nurse of Hellen Keller, the blind and deaf girl, who learned to communicate through acknowledging water.
We both needed that "breakthrough" moment for my periods, commas, and the like.
My teacher would pull me aside, "Okay, periods are where a reader needs to breathe. I am going to read your story to you out loud and then you tell me if it impossible to read because I can't get any air."
OOoooh, well, now we where getting somewhere...
It was about breathing.
My second grade teacher successfully broke through to me by demonstrating that if she would indeed read out my story, without the ability to get a gulp of air from time to time, she would eventually suffocate.
So, back to the drawing board for me! I sat down, held my breath, and randomly placed periods anywhere I felt discomfort.
The result?
The teacher looked down at my revised paper 100% confused. How did I figure that a period belonged somewhere lodged in the most "middle-of-the-sentence" places?
I give you this childhood memory to show just how far I have come as a writer. My "stories," no matter how poorly written they were grammatically, were always fascinating. By the 4th grade, reading my "scary" story at the front of the class captured everyones' attention. I knew, as far as writing went, I could "tell a story." So fiction became my favorite place as a writer.
(Now, I work as an editor for a publication...I know...I know...my story is pretty much up there in terms of "where I started and where I ended up." I went from plopping down periods randomly, like tossing darts at a dartboard and hoping it was right, to an editor. Well, that is either inspiring to those who read this, or worrisome to my publication. I am saying that in jest. There is nothing to worry about.)
So, what turned me into a writer?
I had such a humble start...not winning spelling bees, and according to my own grade school accounts, embarrassing myself with my first attempts. So, why did I persist?
As I went on to high school and college, I would have English teachers encourage me to write more, for fun. They would often place poetry and writing contest flyers on my desk. I would sometimes attempt to submit something. When I wouldn't hear back, I would get very discouraged. Teachers would tell me rejection was a huge part of become a great writer...
Well, that settled it for me, why on Earth would I purposely seek out rejection? Nope, that was not my style. I was doing much, much, much better as an artist and creative. There was no rejection in that department. I would often win in art contests.
It wasn't until I had a psychic reading. Since there is an involved story as to why I ended up getting a reading, I'll just skip to the point. A considerable amount of events came true in sequential order, to where I felt curious that the rest of her prediction would "come true" if I followed through on the advice.
During the reading, the psychic predicted that I would be as famous as J.K. Rowling, the author of Harry Potter. How did you read that in your head? Like "Ha-ry, Pot-ta?" Yes, in fact, during the reading this development was addressed like, "You will be as famous as the writer of Harry Potter...what is her name?"
Well, at that point I was taking it all with a grain of salt.
I just finished business school. I started on what seemed like a banking career. I was invested more in the idea of making money than writing. In my mind, writers could easily end up broke. I don't know exactly where I got this idea from, but it was right there with the term, "starving artist." I also assumed writers wore all black, lingered at the back of coffee shops, and talked to themselves...uh, how about...no.
While, I was excellent in creative areas, I chose to study business in order to one day develop a career that made money.
Too bad the economy at the time was in shambles...Turns out, that psychic was correct. I did a "180." I dove into my creative work after a car accident. I did it to cope. Like most people who left school at the same time, I ended up in a place where I knew wasn't my "forever career." At the same time, I felt like I couldn't leave. The "stuck" feeling at that point in time caused me to become curious about the psychic.
The internal dialogue went like this:
Well, on one hand, I could write a book and become famous as JK Rowling.The pyschic would be correct. I would be able to leave this particular job...
Then my imaginative mind would break into a dream sequence where I plopped my best-seller on my boss's desk and announce, "I quit. I am as famous as JK Rowling now."
...on the other hand...
I would write a book, and it would just stay a normal book...I would ask friends and family to read it. It wouldn't go anywhere. It wouldn't be adapted into a movie. I wouldn't be well known.
In that case, I knew I was going to incorporate art. I knew that if I was going to make a grass-roots effort at being a writer, I would at least write something I could sell by my art shows as a way to "show support" for my art (that was struggling at this time). I could sell this book beside my art...and it would be an art book.
I started writing a book.
Out of curiosity.
WHY DON QUIXOTE?
All that to explain, writing a book was my own "Don Quixote" quest. My curiosity got the better of me.
If you have not yet read Don Quixote, it is about an old man who knows he must live his life to the fullest in the short time he has left. In his senior years, way past the time to be a "real" knight, he proclaims himself a knight. While he is at it, he proclaims a "damsel" to fight for, and sends himself on missions with a squire (a neighbor willing to support his delusions).
That sounded just about right.
Well...there we go. If I was going to seriously pursue this book project due to following through on this psychic reading...I've clearly had a few screws knocked loose by the car accident...
Or did I?
In a way, writing kept my mind focused on bringing a story to life each day. Knowing that I probably wouldn't find much gratification in a solitarty task like "writing a book." I decided to blog it. Keeping myself accountable to only one blog post at a time, was my way of "one foot in front of the other" for a new frontier in my creative world.
Anything considered an "event" in my actual life at the point of writing "Hands" was turned into a fictionalized conversation, character, or idea inside of the book. It was a looooong road indeed...
Below is an example of maybe a 12th "edit" when I had to transform a manuscript into an actual book.
Just like "Don Quixote" my car accident left me shaken with the idea, "I am running out of time" to pursue things that I have placed on the back burner in order to pursue a "practical life." This is such a theme in people's lives; to realize too late that while pursuing the things in life that feed us, we lose sight of the things we need to truly enjoy life.
At the time of writing "Hands" I grappled with some life choices. My "why" wasn't quite settled within me. I loved creating, but I gave up all my energy for it to pursue a business career...why? There were other choices I made at that point that came into focus. Through the lens of a fictional character I found a way to reflect on things I have learned in life up to that point.
Especially art.
I have spent so much of my life force investing in exploring techniques, learning the works of "the masters, " and it seemed like a huge passion...so why wasn't I becoming a grand artist?
That, my friends, is how my main character, "Benny" was born. (See photo above of Benny on my draft manuscript with corrections.)
The photo below is an example of my "Butterfly Book." It was supposed to end up my first book. Instead, I worked on "Hands" while I attempted to both paint more, get a fashion line together, and create a first music album (all "bucket list" activities I rushed to see out after my crash).
(My first album idea above. I went through an evolution as a music artist at the same time...long story...)
There was no doubt in my mind, that as soon as "Hands" was published I would be "as famous as J.K. Rowling." My bigger plan was something like, "Okay, so once your book blows up just like Harry Potter, you will also have your music album out. So then your music will also soar."
I mean...it is pretty much a guarantee...the psychic predicted I would get into "something like a car crash" and it happened...so now I had to brace myself for fame.
REALITY CHECK:
After a month of waiting on my first book to "fly off the shelf" I started to doubt the psychic advice I was blindly following. I worried...I doubted my ability...what if I am not as good as I thought? What if I just attempted a "Don Quixote" quest in writing a book that was in fact an absolutely horrible "first try." I mean...have you read the start of this blog? And the last blog?
Oh no...
It could be bad...
Very bad...my "first attempts" in writing have a history of coming out bad.
I stopped telling people about it. I wasn't sure to gloat about my writing.
In a way, this feeling exactly explains, "Why Don Quixote?"
All endeavors, adventures, or any "chance" one takes in life is exactly what adds to this "life" experience we must all endure...but also presents the opportunity to look like a real dummy. Especially, taking chances on love. Yes, we all risk the chance of "looking like a fool," but it is what makes life worth living.
So sometimes, we just "go for it" and hope for the best. As I did, and as my main character did.
Below: Fashions and illustrations I made for "Hands."
(Above: Illustrations I made for "Hands")
Without further ado, welcome to my "passion project." This is a first "screenplay" for my "Don Quixote" quest. Trying to disprove the first psychic, I got another reading, that also had some wild events "come true." So now...in true "Hands" fashion. I am blogging out a screenplay...
That being said, here is page 3 of my first screenplay project. If you would like to read or "follow along" with a copy of "Hands" it can be found by simply "Google searching" or Amazon searching : Z.B. Sanders Hands.
(Below: A video from the popular "reface app" that was created by a fan I know in San Antonio. This app takes my face and superimposes it over Marylin Monroe. What I love about my own writing style is that I a keen to create a good pace. We are about to meet this interesting character. Now, that you see the "similarities" I have with Marylin Monroe in terms of having similar symmetry, you will understand why I would create a character that I would like to play as an actress. In this next portion, you will meet this "psychic" character that was inspired by my first impression of the psychic that predicted I would be a famous writer. Now, given the basic idea of this story, you can "see" how I do take from an event in my own life. Like the disclaimer says though, my characters are fiction. I never met anyone in real life dressing up as Marylin Monroe on a daily basis.)
******
Page 3/Scene 3
Int. Radio Station Office:
V.O. NARRATOR
At least Benny has aspirations. He wants more than anything to be promoted to a radio announcer. Recently he has taken to addressing everyone in the office in a booming voice that is half superman and half radio announcer. Asking someone for directions, for example, had more than a little pep.
BENNY
How are you doing today?
The coworker he is addressing lowers her gaze and focuses intently on the task (like making copies). A series of "examples" of him practicing on annoyed coworkers (eye rolls, chair swiveling away from him as he comes by, and hand to side of face are all gestures that will demonstrate annoyance). Finally, Benny attempts his annoying voice on his immediate boss, the office secretary. Her annoyance in demonstrated by sending him on busy work...
ELEANOR (THE SECRETARY)
Benny, I need you to go check the mail.
BENNY
...But, did I already get it this morning?
ELEANOR
What did I tell you about mail Benny...who just never know when the post office will send one of their guys on another run...
BENNY
Right, I just don't think it has ever come twice a day before...
ELEANOR
(Interrupts in a warning tone) Benny...but what if today it does and you didn't check it?
BENNY
(Mutters under his breath) I've never seen it come twice...
ELEANOR
(Points scoldingly) Benny...
The scene ends at the post office where Benny finds out the truth...mail only gets delivered once daily.
As if "driven over the edge" he marches back to the radio station. He stops abruptly at the door of the radio station's owner, the big boss, and puts his hand up to knock...
Instead of knocking, he gets bold and burst inside. The radio station's big boss is startled. He props himself up immediately.
BIG BOSS
Can I help you?
BENNY
I am here for the announcer position
BIG BOSS
That position has been filled...months ago. Hey...I know you... Aren't you the disabled intern?
BENNY
(Reverts to his best "annoying" announcer's voice) I assure you sir that I am not disabled.
BIG BOSS
Sure, you are...you are from that radio contest...the man who couldn't count...
CUT TO: INT. RADIO STATION RECORDING BOOTH
Benny sits in front of a microphone sweating, blinking his eyes nervously, and taking jelly beans out of a jar with a shaking hand.
BENNY
Nine...Ten....Ell--ell--el...ahhhhhh...
It is apparently that nerves have gotten the better of him...but to the onlookers his meltdown looks differently. He insists on extending the "Ahhhhh" sound much, much, longer than a normal interjection.
CUT BACK TO: INT. INSIDE THE BIG BOSS OFFICE
Freeze frame on Benny as his mouth hangs open in explanation and the radio station boss seems unamused.
V.O. NARRATOR
Poor Benny, it seems that his stutter precluded him from his biggest dream...to be a radio announcer at the station he has now worked at for several years as the "secretary to the secretary" in hopes to one day have this very moment...
The moment that he could officially apply for the job of his dreams. From the look on the radio station owner's face as he recounts the incident of his unusual stutter "on air;" Benny comes to the realization...he can never achieve his biggest dream...not as long as people recall the "Jelly Bean Incident."
BENNY
I...I...ass...ass...ass...(make it comical with the repetition of "ass" and just as the Big Boss wants to stop him from saying it one more time, Benny finally adds the ending)...sure...you....(takes in a large breath of air awkwardly)
I am not disabled...
Benny's stutter becomes readily apparent, though it seems that he is fighting it...it wins. The big boss looks perplexed as to handle the situation. Finally, after letting Benny choke on his own speech long enough to be comedic...he stops him.
BIG BOSS
It is quite alright. The position has been filled.
Benny very awkwardly bursts into tears as this is not how he planned this exchange that he was so looking forward to...how could he blow it? He practiced everyday. The camera follows a crestfallen and defeated Benny as he bursts out of the office to make a beeline for his car in the parking lot. He sits sobbing until a coworker taps on the window.
RANDOM COWORKER:
Are you okay? We are all worried about you in there...the outburst...is it part of your...um...disability?
BENNY
I...I...I...
When he sees that his stutter has rendered him unintelligible: he smiles, nods in defeat, and rolls up his window to drive off to his home.
(PS: This blog is "edited later" for grammar and slight errors. It takes a lot out of a writer to plop down and worry about all of it at once!)
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