When she can’t sleep at night,
she thinks of what to write.
Ideas flow through her mind,
like visions of an acid trip,
Dripping with raw emotion and real-life experience.
She sits in front of her computer until her fingers hack at the keys.
There’s a story in there somewhere.
A story that originates from a young girl who lost her way.
A story of mental illness at its finest: paranoid schizophrenia.
It’s a blessing when it comes to writing, but it’s a curse when it comes to writing.
Too many ideas flowing at once, mostly good ideas. Mostly…
She’s been writing since she was young.
Her mother always told her to write how she felt.
So she did.
It started with letters from her mom, trying to help her understand reality.
Years later, she wrote letters back to her mom about how she turned out okay.
She advertises her books in hopes of someday making it big.
Maybe one day someone will discover her.
For now, she just keeps writing to escape reality.
To create her own story, the characters are her friends.
In the end, she’s not alone. Her characters are on her side.
LOGAN, a 26-year-old labor working man, husband
NIKKOLE, a 26-year-old student in community college, wife
In a 2011 Kia Soul (car)
In the middle of a crowded city, surrounded by traffic; the camera lights above the top of the silver Kia Soul sedan. A young woman in the passenger seat with curly brown hair sits restlessly in the seat and is staring out the window in contemplation of something. A young man is driving with a red mohawk and is looking out the rear-view mirror in annoyance.
NIKKOLE: Ugh! There’s nothing to do in this town!
LOGAN: (tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, then gripping it tight.) You’d think as many restaurants we have here there’d be something to do.
NIKKOLE: We could go eat I guess. (she looks at Logan in thought.)
LOGAN: Mhmmm. (he stares deep into the traffic in front of him.) COME ON! (he yells at no one in particular. Nikkole jumps in her seat in surprise.)
NIKKOLE: Is that a yes or a no? (she frowns at him)
LOGAN: (clears his throat and looks over at her as they are at a standstill in traffic.) Yes. We can get something to eat, but that brings us to a problem. (he smiles unexpectedly)
NIKKOLE: (she scrunches her face in confusion) And what problem might that be?
LOGAN: You can never decide on where to eat. It’s always a game. I give you three options and you say “no” to all three. I give you four more and you choose one of the first three. (he stares back into traffic waiting for her reply. He can’t look her in the eye even though he knows he’s right.)
NIKKOLE: (huffs in disapproval) Fine. Give me three options and I’ll pick. (she crosses her arms in anger. It’s not a game. It’s not her fault nothing ever sounds good and she’s so indecisive.)
LOGAN: Okay. So do you want a sit down restaurant or do you want to just pick something up.
NIKKOLE: (looks out the window again and lets out a heavy sigh) I don’t know…
LOGAN: (rolls his eyes) Here we go…
NIKKOLE: Fine. Let’s go sit down somewhere.
LOGAN: That narrows our options. Fazoli’s, Dairy Queen, or Culvers?
NIKKOLE (lets out a smile) Are you craving ice cream or something? (she giggles)
LOGAN: I never turn down ice cream.
NIKKOLE: (looks back out the window at the mall. Thoughts swarm into her head. None of those places sounded that great.) I’m tired of the same old places here.
LOGAN: But you have so many options! Just pick one!
NIKKOLE: Ugh! Okay. Culvers… I think.
LOGAN: No! There’s no “I think” about it. It’s either yes or no!
NIKKOLE: Yes, Mr. Bossy. Let’s go to Culver’s.
(they drive in silence for the next five minutes. “Bulletproof” by Godsmack whines through the car speakers. When they arrive and park at Culver’s, they walk to the door and Nikkole reaches over and grabs Logan’s hand. They interlock their fingers in between their hands. They walk up to the entrance. Logan holds the door for Nikkole. Nikkole giggles quietly.)
NIKKOLE: Nothing. (she laughs out loud.)
LOGAN: Tell me! (Logan is irritated.)
NIKKOLE: (so matter-of-factly) Man, I was really craving Dairy Queen. (Nikkole smiles up at Logan as they stand in front of the counter to order.)
(Logan rolls his eyes and starts telling the cashier his order.)
(Fade to black.)
I’m going to be posting some of my work from the class on here. I have 7 pieces. 4 poems, a short story, and a play. I just finished the revisions on all of them last night. I have to print them all out with the original before revisions and make it into a portfolio. Stay tuned. I’ll post one tonight and schedule some more for the week.