Be As Rough As You Want, It’s My First Time
So, in the interest of putting my money (which I really have none) where my mouth is (which I possibly have too much of), following is the first page of a spec screenplay I’m getting ready to market.
By “getting ready” I mean the spec is complete and polished and I’m currently researching and targeting buyers (managers, talent, prodcos, agents, in that order).
Once I finish the spec I’m currently in the middle of writing, I’ll start approaching those buyers, entering contests, etc with both.
Sorry @ the terrible formatting, I haven’t been able to figure out how to properly format screenplay excerpts for this blog yet. If anyone knows how, please enlighten.
Any feedback – even the snarky kind – will be received with great appreciation. But I’d really like to know if you think the following accomplishes what a first page should: set tone, time and place, establish character, hook you into wanting – HAVING – to turn the page, read as its own “mini-story”, etc. So without further adieu…
Dark Rum Chronicles: The Adventures of Nick Drama
INT. PRIVATE AIRPLANE HANGER – DAY
A FIST connects with NICK DRAMA’S jaw, sending him reeling the opposite direction into — another fist.
Late 30’s. Scruffy. Hawaiian shirt. Cargo shorts. Nick resembles a ranch hand turned surfer, like he should be on vacation sipping a drink with a pink umbrella. Yet —
ANOTHER FIST. Looks like that drink’ll have to wait.
See, Nick’s a little preoccupied with the FOUR BLACK-CLAD MERCENARIES gleefully tenderizing him.
Another vicious blow and Nick’s legs give out.
NICK in mid-fall, semiconscious.
Drama. I don’t like it. Unfortunately, its my last name.
NICK’S HEAD smacks the concrete floor with a dull thud, bouncing slightly.
That’s me. Nick Drama. The handsome feller getting his eggs scrambled right there.
A swiftly moving combat boot swallows Nick’s vision. Another kick flips him on his back.
And if you’re wondering how an average Joe like me gets himself into a jam like this, well brother you ain’t flying solo,‘cause right about now old Nick finds himself pondering that very same question.
A HAND roots a dusty beer bottle from the floor. Smashes the end off. Angles the jagged edge toward Nick.
A TATTOO OF A WATER SNAKE winding its way across the knuckles distinguishes this hand from the other Mercenaries. This bastard’s clearly their LEADER.
End pg. 1.
Ok, let me have it!