During the past two years that I’ve been active in the Twitter writing community, I’ve let all of six people read what I’ve written. I hate sending people my unfinished work.
Without further ado, let me introduce you to some of my multitudes of unfinished writing projects.
If you’re like me, you’ll read the bold text as if you were announcing Oscar nominees.
Project 5: Defective
You have to understand. I knew I was guilty. I know I had to die. But Nico. Nico was innocent. Everything I did was to protect him.
Found guilty of treason against her country, 17 year old Miriam Green, is sentenced to death by the Head Council. She has just one chance to reclaim her life. Tell the Head Council where Nico and the others are. Will Miriam choose to live or die defective?
5k out of 70k completed
Project 4: Not a Nurse Here Folks!
When we were growing up, no one ever taught us how to deal with folks with diminished capacity. Those kinds of people were hidden away. It was one thing to be crazy. Southerners do crazy well. Diminished capacity ain’t crazy though. Diminished capacity isn’t “Granny forgets names sometimes” or “Uncle Jay was wounded in Vietnam. Don’t startle him when he’s sleeping.” No. This was a living adult toddler pitching a hissy fit and there were no rules.
Creative Non-Fiction based on my experiences working in a county hospital. Will be published under an alias to protect patient privacy.
10k ish out of 75k completed
Project 3: The Gypsy Lee
Excerpt (Please ignore the formatting hell, language and grammar mistakes):
Layla stomped onto the bridge of the ship. “That was a goddamn clusterfuck!” Her pilot Brick was sitting at the helm.
“Two bills and where to boss?” He pointed to a metal lockbox perched on the navigation station.
“Get us into orbit now Brick” she ordered while looking at the ship’s manifest on her Captain’s console. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. We have a passenger on Calabrus to pick up in the morning and one to drop off.”
Walsh raised an eyebrow at her glare. “So soon?” He asked, leaning against the hull of the bridge.
She banged the console with her fist. So close. She had been so close to finding it.
“Easy now. It’s not your console’s fault.” Said Walsh.
In one smooth move, Layla whipped around and pulled her pistol on him. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t shoot you.”
Walsh looked at the fiery woman holding a pistol on him. “Because if you fire that pistol in here, you’ll punch a hole in the hull and kill us all?” he smirked.
“Fucking goddammit!” Layla roared in frustration. She didn’t need this bullshit today. Not ever. Who the hell did Walsh think he was? Fifteen years since she’d seen him, and it’s like he never left.
“Two more bills Captain. Ten for the pistol.” Said Brick. “Ship Rules Captain. You agreed to them.”
Layla looked between her pilot and her unwanted guest. “To the sun with you both!” She reached into her pocket and threw the wad of bills at the box. “Get us to Calabrus. Buzz me when we get there.” Brick and Walsh watched her storm off the bridge.
“Is she always like that?” Walsh asked.
Brick shrugged. “Must have caught her on a good day.”
“A good day? If that was a good day, what does a bad one look like?”
“Oh you’d be floating out there somewhere. Or worse.” Said Brick, his hands busy punching in coordinates to Calabrus. He nodded towards a chair on his left with his elbow. “Might as well sit.”
Walsh sank into the soft, oversized grey chair. He kicked his feet up onto the console then stared out into the deep dark with the pilot. The men sat quietly as Brick navigated them into space towards the dark green planet of Calabrus located in the same solar system.
“Well. It’s been nice chatting with you Brick. I think I’m gonna catch a few hours of sleep while you fly.” Walsh said genially as he leaned further back into the chair, and pulled the brim of his hat down low.
“Say Brick. What’s worse than being left for dead in space?”
Brick said nothing for a moment then murmured. “Being trapped in a box full of Trawlian spiders.”
Space-Western, Fiction, Considering for serial.
Project 2: Dirt Angel
Excerpt (All passages in italics signify they are being signed in American Sign Language):
The blockade of bodies wouldn’t let her through. She had crawled through legs trying to get to what they were looking at. She finally pushed her way through the people to the frontof the crowd in her kitchen. A man laid on the table; his hand dangled off the edge. Gold ring. Daddy. Her heart stopped. Frozen to the spot. No. Oh no. Daddy. She crept slowly towards his hand. A small trickle of blood ran down his arm and pooled onto the floor. She stared. A flash of brown jerked Hattie out of her trance. Witch woman. Hattie glared. What she do here? The Witch woman stopped when she noticed Hattie then motioned her to come closer.
Hattie timidly stepped towards the hand. She didn’t want to see what happened. Witch woman grew impatient and jerked Hattie to the table. Hattie wouldn’t look up until she felt a hand on her face. When she opened her eyes, her daddy was looking back at her. He was alive.
“Hattie” he mouthed. Daughter. He struggled for breath. Hattie threw her arms around his shoulders. Tears ran down her face. She looked at him again.
Boat. He said with his right hand. Boat make you free.
Hattie shook her head and signed back. Boat make free us.
But he nodded his head no. Boat yours now.
Tears streamed down her face in rivers, flooding her wailing mouth. He placed his hand on her shoulder, his eyes pointed upwards to the sky. “Home” he whispered. Daddy go home now. One day you come home too.
No Daddy stay! Her hands flew between shaking him and signing. Stay. No go Daddy. No go away from me. He smiled his little smile. Home Hattie. To Mommy now. Mommy is pretty like sun in the leaves.
He pulled her closed to him into a hug. Oh she held on for her life. She felt his last breath shudder through his lungs, then he didn’t breath anymore. He didn’t take another. She jerked back, shaking him. Daddy up time. Daddy daddy up now. Fat tears rolled dwn her face as she shook him harder. But his eyes didn’t open. She hit him. Again. She screamed in his ear as loud as she could.
Witch Woman and Doctor Man pulled her from the table, through the crowd and onto the porch. She laid on the wooden plank floor, screaming until her lungs hurt so bad she thought she would die. She wanted to die. God kill me. Me go home. She wailed, her fist beating on the porch. Me go home.
Orphaned at an early age, Hattie Mayfield survives during the Prohibition by running moonshine in the swamps of Louisiana with her cousin DB. When rival moonshiners team up with crooked law enforcement officers to kill them, Hattie and DB must move deeper into the swamp and seek out help from Mama Jean, the most dangerous moonshiner of them all.
Historical fiction, deaf main character, YA
Project 1: Rising Tides (Screenplay)
Excerpt in Screenplay formatting:
EXT. LOUISIANA BAYOU – DAWN – ESTABLISHING
Long shots of swamp water, animals and boats on the river. Typical morning routine of various people at the Breezy Bayou. An older SHERIFF driving a beat up truck pulls into the driveway of the Breezy Bayou Retirement Home. The Breezy Bayou retirement home is an old one story hospital converted into a retirement home. It is pleasant enough but terribly outdated.
The weather is pleasant. Not too hot or cold. On the porch sit various residents of the Breezy Bayou. On stage right of the porch, an elderly black woman in a simple cotton dress with her hair wrapped up is playing checkers with an elderly white preacher dressed in a white shirt, black slacks, polished shoes and a preacher collar.A teenage boy, AMOS, reluctantly climbs out of the truck. He’s wearing a white tshirt, jeans and air jordans.
NARRATOR – OLDER MAXINE PRICE
I didn’t think much of him the first time I saw him.
AMOS follows SHERIFF up the driveway and onto front porch of the Breezy Bayou. MAXINE PRICE along with other residents are sitting in rocking chairs and chatting amongst themselves. Sheriff removes hat and greets the residents.
Morning folks. Is Nurse JUDITH in?
REVEREND GEORGE SOMETHING:
Morning Sheriff. Go on in. I’m sure she’s in her office.
Sheriff opens the front door, and walks in.
I wouldn’t have given him a second thought if I hadn’t seen those eyes of his.
AMOS follows behind, flashing a long glance at Maxine before following the Sheriff indoors.
An old, familiar anger burned there.
That young man looks none to pleased to be here.
All young men have that look these days. Wonder why he’s here?
MAXINE and GEORGE continue playing checkers.
That would be Judith’s nephew in from Atlanta. I hear tell he’s a might bit of wild. Uppity. All these young boys is uppity these days. Why I remember back when we would wake up to the word of God and be satisfied in a hard day’s labor.
MAXINE laughs while studying the board intensely.
Reverend. I do believe the hardest work I ever saw you do was lift a pitcher of water behind the pulpit.
Rev. George holds out hands in protest.
Now hold on Ms. Price. The Lord calls-
Maxine smiles sweetly at REV while jumping his last checker and winning the game.
You’re right Reverend. The Lord calls us all to different kinds of works. Some of us need soft hands.
MAXINE smiles triumphantly while the other residents enjoy a good chuckle. The Reverend smiles and shakes his head.
Drama screenplay based on Narrator’s life serving as a black nurse in Africa during WW2.
Over 75K Written, currently rewriting in screenplay format.
So there you have my top five writing projects for 2015. Which ones do you like?0 Which ones would you read? Suggestions? Grammar errors? Wanna beta read and poke me along with a stick this year? Do I have spinach in my teeth?