Trying something a little different. This is a writing prompt that I made up based on this picture that I took a few years ago.
I hope it inspires you to write a story of your own. If so, I’d love to hear it.
Excerpt from my book, ‘Fragments of Fear: Collection‘.
If you haven’t read the rest of The Journey, please go back here and start from the beginning. Many of these scenes will make no sense to you unless you’ve read the enitre story.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed the stories, but don’t rush off just yet. I have a special treat for you.
As I was writing this story I had some other ideas pop into my head. These ideas didn’t quite fit with the overall tone. So after I finished it I decided to take them and make an outtake reel like you would see on a DVD. With this in mind, I wrote it in script form. I apologize to those who are unfamiliar with reading scripts, but I think you’ll get the gist. This was written just for fun and my hope is that it will be received that way. Enjoy.
Fade In:
EXT. TRAIN STATION
The Conductor is slowly examining the train engine. He walks
around the front, admiring the beauty and power of it when
suddenly he trips over the track and falls flat on his face.
Getting up slowly and dusting himself off.
CONDUCTOR
Nobody saw that, right?
CAMERAMAN ONE
(tries to keep from laughing, but
just can’t hold it together. He
bursts out into hysterical fits of
laughter)
CONDUCTOR
(Glares at cameraman)
CAMERAMAN ONE
(Dies)
Fade out:
Fade in:
INT. TRAIN, CONDUCTOR’S ROOM
The conductor sits in his chair, head resting against the
back, snoring loudly.
CAMERAMAN TWO
(Whispers to the sound man) Is
someone going to wake him up?
SOUND MAN
Not me.
DIRECTOR
I enjoy life too much.
MAKEUP GIRL
Not a chance.
DIRECTOR
(Stares quietly at Conductor) Okay,
that’s lunch.
SOUND MAN
It’s only nine thirty in the
morning.
DIRECTOR
Do you want to tell him that?
SOUND MAN
(Looking thoughtful) You know, now
that I think about it, I am hungry.
Crew quietly file out of the room leaving the conductor
sleeping peacefully.
Fade out:
Fade in:
EXT. STREET, TWILIGHT
An empty mist covered street, along with deserted cars, half
destroyed buildings, and rubble.
SHE
(groaning as she approaches the man
with outstretched arms) Brains!
MAN
(Quickly pulls out a Desert Eagle
fifty caliber pistol, points it at
her head and squeezes the trigger.
Her skull disappears in a shower of
blood) (A beat) Yuck!
Man wipes off his pistol, spins it on his finger and holsters
it while walking away, whistling ‘Bad to the Bone’.
Fade out:
Fade in:
INT. TRAIN, PASSENGER CAR
The Conductor is punching tickets, he has just listened to a
man telling a story.
CONDUCTOR
I hope you don’t think it’s too
forward of me, but I collect
stories and I was intrigued by
yours.
STORYTELLER
Umm … thanks
CONDUCTOR
Would you mind if I wrote it down
in one of my journals?
STORYTELLER
Well, the thing is, it’s not
actually my story. I just told it.
CONDUCTOR
And did you contact the Author to
get permission?
STORYTELLER
Umm … no.
CONDUCTOR
Have you ever heard of copyright
infringement?
STORYTELLER
It’s just a story.
CONDUCTOR
(Looking irritated) Just a story?
Have you ever stopped to think
about all the hard work the author
put into it? The long hours writing
and revising, just so you can come
along and steal his work?
STORYTELLER
(Looking terrified) Not really.
DIRECTOR
Cut!
CONDUCTOR
I’ll be in my trailer. (Disappears)
STORYTELLER
(Dies)
Fade out:
Fade in:
INT. OFFICE
Harold is on the phone with the automated ACME prize comittee.
AUTOMATED VOICE
To confirm your prize, simply press
‘one’ and an operator will assist
you.
HAROLD
(Stares at the phone in disbelief.
He starts hammering on the ‘one’
button.)
AUTOMATED VOICE
Congratulations, we will connect
you with an operator, one moment
please.
HAROLD
(Looking at camera) Umm, I don’t
think that was supposed to happen.
(Glances at script)
Fade out:
Fade in:
INT. CONVENIENCE STORE ON 23RD STREET
Alan has been handed a gun by his so-called friends and sent
to rob the store. He walks up to the counter, then stands
there, looking around as if confused.
ROBBER
(Running into scene, zipping up
pants) Sorry, sorry everyone,
bathroom break.
DIRECTOR
Cut!
ALAN
(Rolls eyes, turns and walks back
to his mark.)
ROBBER
(Looking embarrassed, walks back out
to take his position.)
DIRECTOR
Take two!
Fade out:
Fade in:
EXT. TRAIN STATION
Emily is waiting at the station. She is surrounded by
oppressive silence.
EMILY
(Farts very loudly.)
CAMERAMAN TWO
(Starts laughing.)
SOUND MAN
(Chuckling) It seems we’ve had some
sort of explosion. Effects, did you
set anything off?
EFFECTS MAN
(Rolling on ground, laughing.)
DIRECTOR
Cut!
EMILY
(Looking very red in the face.) I
need a short break. (Walks away)
ENTIRE CREW
(Laughing hysterically)
Fade out:
Fade in:
INT. TRAIN, PASSENGER CAR
Emily has just boarded the train and the conductor is punching
her ticket.
EMILY
Excuse me, you seem familiar, do I
know you?
CONDUCTOR
That’s quite possible young lady.
You seem somewhat familiar to me
as well.
EMILY
Could I trouble you for your name?
CONDUCTOR
No trouble at all, my name is
Death.
EMILY AND CONDUCTOR
(Both looking confused)
A loud train whistle sounds.
CONDUCTOR
Really?
DIRECTOR
Cut! Reset the scene.
CONDUCTOR
Why don’t you just edit the sound
in during post production?
DIRECTOR
(Looking irritated) Who’s directing
this?
CONDUCTOR
(Glares at Director)
DIRECTOR
(Dies)
Fade out:
Fade in:
PRODUCER’S OFFICE
The Conductor is sitting in front of a desk, across from the
producer.
PRODUCER
Listen, I know you’re not used to
working well with others, but
you’ve got to quit killing off my
staff.
CONDUCTOR
(Glares at Producer)
PRODUCER
Now that right there. That’s what
I’m talking about. You don’t want
to hear what I have to say, so
you’re just going to kill me. You
can’t keep doing that.
CONDUCTOR
(Lifting eyebrow) Can’t I?
PRODUCER
Not if you ever want to work in
Hollywood again. You came to me,
remember? You wanted to change your
image, well how are you going to do
that if no one is around to see.
You need to calm down, relax a
little, have fun with it.
CONDUCTOR
I … I’ll try.
PRODUCER
Good, now no more killing, right?
CONDUCTOR
(Hesitates)
PRODUCER
Right?
CONDUCTOR
Okay, no killing.
PRODUCER
Great, now let’s get this train
back on track.
CONDUCTOR
(Stands to leave, turns back and
glares at Producer)
PRODUCER
(Starts to cough) Knock that off!
Fade out:
Fade In:
INT. PRISON
Larry is beginning his rampage of destruction. He has killed
everyone, officers included in this cell block.
LARRY
(Steps over bodies only to find the
main door locked) Hmm… (He turns
back into the room, searching for
something, leans down and takes the
keys from the guard’s lifeless
corpse) Thanks, Leonard.
LEONARD
No problem.
LARRY
(Nearly falls over, not expecting
an answer, then starts to laugh)
CREW
(All laughing as Leonard sits up
and grins at Larry)
DIRECTOR TWO
Cut!
Fade out:
Fade in:
EXT. PRISON ROOF
Lucifer has just revealed his true identity to Larry and told
him of his eternal punishment. The portal to Hell opens and
out of it is heard the song ‘Boogie Nights’ playing loudly.
LUCIFER
(Starts to dance as several
‘spirits’ appear dressed in full
eighties disco outfits)
LARRY
(Starts to dance along with Lucifer
and the spirits)
CREW
(All start to dance)
DIRECTOR TWO
Cut! Cut! Cut!
CAST AND CREW
(Ignore director)
DIRECTOR TWO
(Shruggs his shoulders and starts
to breakdance)
Fade out:
Fade in:
EXT. TRAIN PORCH OF LAST CAR
The conductor stands waiting, anticipating the arrival of his
friend the raven.
RAVEN
(Flies in and overshoots the
railing, slamming hard into the
door)
CONDUCTOR
(Cringes) That’s gotta hurt.
CAMERAMAN TWO
(Chuckles)
DIRECTOR TWO
Cut! Take two!
RAVEN
(Flies in, but is caught in a
sudden updraft and sails right over
the train)
CONDUCTOR
(Looks up, trying to find the
raven)
DIRECTOR TWO
Cut! Take three!
RAVEN
(Flies in, trying to get his
landing just right, tucks his wings
too soon and drops like a stone)
CONDUCTOR
(Watches as raven tumbles along the
railroad track, leaving a trail of
feathers behind him)
DIRECTOR TWO
Cut! Take four!
An hour later, the raven still has not landed on his mark.
Cast and crew are becoming irritated.
CONDUCTOR
(Whispers to raven) Get this right
or I’ll kill you.
RAVEN
(Flies in and lands his mark
perfectly)
CONDUCTOR
(Looks over at Director two and
nods his head just slightly)
DIRECTOR TWO
(Nods back)
Fade out:
Fade in:
INT. TRAIN. PASSENGER CAR
Emily screams, the conductor runs inside to see what is wrong.
CONDUCTOR
What happened?
EMILY
I had this incredibly vivid
nightmare.
CONDUCTOR
Can you tell me about it?
EMILY
I don’t know. It was so horrifying.
CONDUCTOR
Go on …
EMILY
I dreamt that Barak Obama was
elected President.
CAST AND CREW
(All groan)
EMILY
What? I’m the only one who’s not
allowed to crack a joke?
DIRECTOR TWO
Cut! That’s lunch.
Fade out:
Fade in:
EXT. PARK.
Emily is jogging through the park. The stranger is stalking
her.
EMILY
(Glances back to see if the
stranger is following. Her feet get
tangled up and she falls hard to
the asphalt path)
STRANGER
(Runs up to check on her, sees she
is dazed and bleeding) We need a
medic over here!
EMILY
(Still trying to focus, sits up at
the stranger’s urging)
STRANGER
How many fingers am I holding up?
EMILY
Thursday.
CREW
(Gently places Emily in Ambulance)
Fade out:
Fade in:
INT. TRAIN DINING CAR.
The passengers are sitting down having drinks. Passenger one
looks over at the conductor.
PASSENGER ONE
So what’s your story?
CONDUCTOR
Me? You wouldn’t find my life very
interesting.
PASSENGER ONE
Why not? Everyone else has told you
stories, why don’t you tell us
yours?
CONDUCTOR
Very well, but don’t blame me if
you’re soon bored to death.
PASSENGER ONE
I think anything is better than
sleeping on a train.
CONDUCTOR
Well, long ago I started out as a
Gigolo. I soon came to realize
that my true talents were in
pimping.
PASSENGER ONE
(Trying to keep a straight face)
Really?
CONDUCTOR
(Without missing a beat, reaches
under the table, pulls out a
shockingly pink hat with a two foot
long feather attached to it, puts
it on his head, and flashes the
‘peace’ sign.)
CAST AND CREW
(Erupt with laughter)
Fade out:
Fade In:
INT. TRAIN. DINING CAR.
The conductor is telling the passengers the story of his
early career.
PASSENGER
So, a hit man just walked up and
rang the doorbell?
CONDUCTOR
Essentially, yes.
PASSENGER
What did you do?
CONDUCTOR
The only thing I could.
PASSENGER
Run?
CONDUCTOR
No. I grabbed the biggest freakin’
handgun I could find and blew that
bastard away.
DIRECTOR
Cut! (To conductor) Take five,
Dirty Harry.
Fade out:
Fade in:
EXT. TRAIL
The conductor leads the passengers down a dark path made of
intricate stone. Gas lamps light the way, but the light
doesn’t extend outside the path. Suddenly, out of nowhere
they come across a large set of beautiful brass doors. The
sign on them says, ‘Out of order’.
CONDUCTOR
(Pulling on the doors, finds them
locked)
The camera starts to shake as cameraman two chuckles.
CONDUCTOR
(To cameraman two) Very nice, very
mature.
CREW
(All laugh)
DIRECTOR TWO
(Chuckling) No, go with it. How
does this make you feel? Show me
your innermost angst.
CONDUCTOR
I’ll be in my trailer. (Walks away
with a slight grin on his face)
Fade out:
Fade in:
INT. LARGE BUILDING.
The conductor heaves open the massive door and beckons the
passengers inside. Two large women stand just inside the
entrance.
WOMAN ONE
Welcome, welcome, please step
forward and make yourself at home.
WOMAN TWO
Don’t forget to take a number.
(She indicates a ticket machine
that automatically shoots out a
ticket.)
PASSENGER ONE
(Reads ticket aloud) number
267,408?
WOMAN TWO
That’s right.
PASSENGER ONE
(Looks up at the electronic sign
that says ‘Now serving # 17’)
What is this, Beetlejuice?
Fade out:
Fade in:
INT. LARGE BUILDING.
Emily looks down at her ticket, it says, ‘If you can read
this, you’re too close.’
Emily looks down at her ticket, it says, ‘Good for one free
slushie at participating gas-n-gulps.’
Emily looks down at her ticket, it says, ‘Don’t forget to
tip your waitress.’
Fade in:
INT. LARGE BUILDING.
The passengers have settled into a routine of slow forward
progress through the line.
PASSENGER ONE
Finally, we’re close enough to
watch what really goes on.
SAINT PETER
(To person in line) It says here
that you were a liberal member of
the news media.
PERSON IN LINE
Yes, that’s right.
SAINT PETER
(Pulls a lever and a trap door
opens beneath the person)
Next!
Fade out:
Fade in:
EXT. STUDIO LOT. CONDUCTOR’S TRAILER
The conductor steps out of his trailer, now dressed in his
familiar black robe, carrying his scythe.
CONDUCTOR
Ahh, it feels better to be back in
normal clothes.
DIRECTOR TWO
(Waves to the conductor as he
walks to his car.)
CONDUCTOR
I’ll see you soon.
DIRECTOR TWO
(Backs away from his car) I think
I’ll take the bus.
CONDUCTOR
(Smiles) Suit yourself.
DIRECTOR TWO
(Looks at bus stop) Maybe I’ll
walk.
CONDUCTOR
Probably a good idea. (Chuckles)
DIRECTOR TWO
Stop that!
CONDUCTOR
(Walks over and puts his arm
around Director two) Come on,
I’ll give you a ride.
DIRECTOR TWO
Thanks.
CONDUCTOR
(Looks back at camera and smiles.)
RAVEN
(Flys up and lands on the
Conductor’s shoulder, taping a
sign to his back that says, ‘Kick
me … if you dare’.)
Fade out:
Photo courtesy of Hilary Hauck. www.hilaryhauck.com
September 13th was a historic day, at least for me. After nine years, my first novel, ‘One on One‘, had finally been published. I’d been working on this book so long that it seemed surreal to see it and hold a copy in my hands. A month ago, when my publisher first told me when the release date was going to be, I posted an event on my facebook page because I was so excited. I intended it to be a ‘remember this date’ type of announcement. Little did I know what was about to come from a simple post.
One of my facebook friends messaged me shortly after the posting and asked where the party was. Not wanting to say there was no party and he had misread the post, I told him that I would have to see how many people were interested in coming before I made plans.
So now, I was semi-committed to having a party that I never intended to have.
I wracked my brain for a suitable, yet economical place that would be interesting and have amenities. A few places drifted through my mind, the restaurant where I attend monthly writer’s meetings topped the very short list. I was floundering, unable to come up with an interesting location and then it hit me.
I am a former Corrections Officer and my novel is about a Corrections Officer, set in a prison, so naturally, I went to jail.
Not the current jail, I didn’t get arrested. There is a personal residence/business in the building that housed the former jail in my county. I approached the owner, asking if the old cells were still in working order. She said that yes, she would allow curious visitors to see them when they asked.
I proposed to do a book signing from inside one of the cells. Naturally, she was hesitant, having just met me I’m sure there was a bit of doubt. But the more information she received, the more she seemed to warm up to the idea. Once she agreed, my wife and I started into a whirlwind of preparations. With less than a month to go, the book was still in its last legs of the editing process. Once done, I ordered the books I would need for the party and sweated it out as they arrived mere days before.
The party was a success. Our host was amazing and helped out tremendously. My wife was spectacular taking care of food and setup along with her helpers. I had a great time, several friends showed up that I hadn’t seen in a while, Hilary took some fantastic pictures, and it was a most memorable experience signing books inside a jail cell.
It was a night I’ll never forget. A wonderful start for my book launch.
For more information, please visit my website.
Thank you for reading.
Read the fine print.
I know as a writer that sometimes things can get a bit desperate. I know that sometimes it seems like I’ll never see my name in print. Fortunately, I love what I do. But I see many online sites that feed on the desperate. I’m not talking about the obvious shysters that are easily recognizable, I’m talking about those who look professional and even credible.
I just got done reading a submission guideline for a publication that offered a payment of $5-$20 for stories from 3,000 up to 20,000 words. That’s not great in itself, but they demanded that those unlucky authors sign away exclusive worldwide rights for two years!
$20 for two years! That’s not just insulting, it’s borderline criminal.
I don’t know how long other authors take to write their stories, but I don’t have a lot of time to work on them. With the available time I have it could take me a week to a month to create a 20,000 word story. And then I go into edit mode, followed by more edit mode, followed by sudden death edit mode, followed by ‘I suck as an author’ edit mode. Until I’m done, I’ve put dozens if not hundreds of man-hours into making my story the best it can be. Locking my work up for two years for the paltry sum of $20 just ain’t happening.
I realize this makes me look like a selfish SOB, but I have a terrible problem. I like to eat and so does my family. I understand that sometimes it’s necessary to get my name out there by submitting to markets that can’t or don’t pay, but that’s not the same as saying ‘I’m going to pay you a paltry sum just to make it legal to do whatever I want to with your story. ‘
If I placed an ad in the paper for someone to come dig ditches for me but told them I could only pay them $20 for two years of work and while working for me they couldn’t work for anyone else, I don’t imagine I’d get too many applicants.
Bottom line, always read the submission guidelines … always.
I was recently given a bit of advice by a successful author. She told me to follow the 80/20 ratio of posting on Twitter. Eighty percent of the time I should be focusing on others (liking, retweeting, commenting) and twenty percent on myself (posting about my book).
I tried this and it was immensely successful. I gained followers at a regular rate (around 100 per month) made connections, built trust with several of my followers, and generally enjoyed the increased visibility that I perceived I was receiving. However, after a month, I started to notice a disturbing trend. I was getting plenty of impressions, but very little actual interaction.
I logged this away as an anomaly and continued on my happy Twitter way. Shortly thereafter, I became more active on WordPress. Being an author who is trying to build his ‘Platform’, I posted each of my blog posts on Twitter, Facebook, Linkedin, Tumblr, and Google+. My hope was that they would have a cumulative effect and increase my visibility. However, during all that time, I hung my hopes on Twitter. Having built a following of over 1,500, I felt that Twitter was the best chance of increased traffic to my blog and my site.
Then I read an article saying that Twitter was changing its algorithm, and traffic was going to become much harder to come by if you didn’t pay for Twitter ads. This was not something I had in my budget. Having to work a fifty hour a week job just to put food on the table makes Twitter ads a low priority.
I tried to go on with my Twitter life, but the seed of doubt had been planted. It was further watered when I read another blog post saying that twitter was less than useful, it actually took time away that could be used for other things.
I was now in full on doubt mode. I did a little research for myself and was shocked at what I found.
I started posting to WordPress in early June. During that time, I had 62 views, 48 visitors, and 34 likes. Each of my 14 blog posts, I had also posted to twitter, with a link to my WordPress blog.
During that same time, I had 16,000 impressions (views) total on Twitter. Of those 16,000, 1,729 were impressions that came from tweets of my blog posts. Here are the numbers.
Out of 1729 impressions, I received 5 retweets, 5 detail expands, 4 likes,
And a grand total of (drumroll please)
1 Link click
So, out of one thousand, seven hundred, and twenty-nine times tweets about my blog were seen, only one time was anyone interested enough to click over to WordPress and actually read the blog.
An entire month of posting for one click.
Was it worth it? For the numbers alone, no. However, I did make a few contacts, and even had a few people follow me who had over a hundred thousand followers. Several prominent authors followed me and a couple liked and retweeted my tweets.
Was that awesome? Yes. Will it help me out in some way? I don’t know. I would like to believe that making connections is always a good idea, especially with those who have already been successful.
Bottom line, is Twitter worth the time and effort I’ve been putting into it? I’d say a resounding no. Will I continue to have a presence and interact with my followers? Yes, but not nearly as much as over the last few months.
My mind is trying to kill me.
Have you ever had one of those nights/mornings? You wake up around 2 AM or so, go to the bathroom, come back to bed and look at the time. Realizing that you have another 2 hours to sleep, you settle in. That’s when your mind kicks in and sends you great ideas.
Now, I’ve been a writer for years. I know that when your mind sends you creative messages, you’d best listen. I started mentally taking notes on what my mind was sending me and logging it for the upcoming morning writing session.
My mind wasn’t satisfied with that. It flooded me with ideas for my next several blog posts. I fought it off for a while, hoping to get a little more sleep.
An hour later, I gave up and got up. With all the stealth I could muster (for a large, overweight, man of forty something) I carefully got out of bed, snuck over to my desk, avoiding the dark minefield of dressers, bedframes, and all other dangers that jump out and attack helpless toes in a dark room. I unplugged my laptop, making sure that all wires were removed from the various ports, and began my journey toward my writing room (which is any room where I won’t wake someone up. It usually ends up being the bathroom.) with the Mission Impossible theme music playing quietly in my head.
I reached my destination, settled in and began to regurgitate onto the screen what my mind had been nagging me about. (How’s that for some writing imagery?) An hour later I had one post done, another underway, and several other notes typed out, when the alarm on my phone rang. (I learned this lesson the hard way. Take your alarm with you when you do these early morning writing sessions.)
So now here I sit, not completely exhausted, but not well rested either, knowing I have a fourteen hour work day ahead of me. I feel great for having been inspired to write, and to be able to get said inspiration down in my computer, but I have to wonder.
Could my mind really be trying to kill me? Could this be suicide by blog?
No, my mind answered, don’t be ridiculous. Now get to work on your next post.
mikesimages 