Spoiler:

Scene I

(Lights up on Clayton, a young man in his younger to mid-20s. He is sitting on a curb or a bench. He is dressed in old jeans, ratty shoes, an old t-shirt, an old jacket, and a hat. He is smoking a cigarette. A police officer comes from stage left and comes up to Clayton.)

Police Officer: What are you doing in this part of town, son?

Clayton: Just smoking a cigarette, sir.

Police Officer: Son, don’t lie to me. It’s easier if you just tell me the truth. You waiting on a girl or a dealer?

Clayton: No, sir. I’m just smoking a normal cigarette. Girlfriend doesn’t like me smoking in the house, so I went outside and ended up taking a walk over here.

Police Officer: Well, not a safe place to be—hey, you look familiar. What’s your name?

Clayton: Clayton. Clayton Frasier.

Police Officer: (looking for record on some kind of device) Oh, I remember you. Surprised you’re out already with the crap you pulled.

Clayton: Me too…guess my guardian angel’s been watching over me.

Police Officer: (gives Clayton weird look) Yea…well you don’t have any warrants so you’re all good. You take care and try to stay out of trouble. Get home before it gets dark.

Clayton: Yes sir.

(Police Officer goes back off stage left. Clayton sighs, puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out a bag of weed.)

Clayton: (Looks up) Thanks buddy. (sighs, looks frustrated) Yea, I know. This stuff is stupid, doesn’t help with anything. It doesn’t really hurt anything either though. What reputation, seriously? The reputation I had flew out the window when I was 18 and if anyone knows that, you should. I’m going crazy…talking to a dead man. A man that did a whole lot worse stuff than I did and I let him lecture me over right and wrong. Well, I don’t care what you say or think! This is my life and I’m gonna live it my way, not how you thought I should.

(Gets up and pushes over a trashcan, making a lot of noise. He then sits down again with his face buried in his hands. He sits like that for a while then gets up and picks up the trashcan and throws away the bag of weed. He then walks off stage right)



Scene II

Man: How old are you, kid?

(Lights up on two jail cells around a little right of center stage. In one there is a man in his 30s. In the other is a younger Clayton, 18 or 19. Clayton looks over at man, then looks down, ignoring him)

Man: Hey, you deaf or something? I asked, how old are you?

Clayton: Leave me alone.

Man: What’s your problem?

Clayton: By the way you look I’m pretty sure that you’ve heard, “You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law” a few times. Yeah, that’s why I’m shut up. That plus you probably smell like a landfill.

Man: (gets up quick and stands up against bars between cells. Clayton gets scared, jumps back some) Son, if I were you I wouldn’t talk that way to anyone here, officers or inmates. You’re liable to get the hair ripped straight out of your head. You may have been a big dog where you came from, but here, you’re just a baby, remember that.

(Man goes back and sits on his bed)

Clayton: I’m 18

Man: Dear Lord, you are just a baby. How the heck did you get put in here?

Clayton: Domestic violence, drug abuse, warrants for DWI. Probably the worst stuff…

Man: And you’re only 18? You sure?

Clayton: (angrily) I’m pretty sure I know my freakin’ age.

Man: Alright, settle down. Just making sure. That is pretty stupid stuff to ruin the rest of your life with when you’re only 18.

Clayton: Oh, really now? You don’t think I’ve already been told that a million times? My family is disappointed and keep saying the same thing over and over again as if it’s not enough I was put in here. My girlfriend isn’t allowed to talk to me; which even if she could I don’t think she would unless she has a bad case of that Stockholm Syndrome crap.

Man: Ever heard of first degree murder?

Clayton: Well, yea.

Man: That’s why I’m here.

Clayton: Um, might want to keep that to yourself if you want to make friends…

Man: Ha, you’re funny kid. What’s your name?

Clayton: Not sure I should tell you that.

Man: (laughs) I promise you, I’m not a killer. Well, I really am I guess but not in the sense you’re thinking.

Clayton: I don’t really care why you’re in here. I just want to get the heck out of here.

Man: How long you got?

Clayton: 3 years.

Man: I’d say you’re lucky.

Clayton: Are you crazy?

Man: That’s what a bunch of “experts” think.

Clayton: Well 3 years means a lot to me. I won’t get to see my baby born. I won’t see my little brother graduate. And most off, I won’t get sex for 3 years.

Man: Well, up until that last point it was moving.

Officer: Hey, you two shut up and go to sleep.

Man: Hey, night kid. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.

Clayton: Whatever.

Well this is it...my work it progress...my baby. Whatever you want to call it. Just want to see what people think of it. I know the plot is a bit thin right now but it gets better soon, promise Crits please

You call it thin and I call it an introduction. =) I'm actually rather bumbed that there wasn't more to read. You did an awesome job on this. I've only read a few people's work who could acuratly do stage directions and actions in a script and you have been added to my list (and let me tell you, there are some PUBLISHED playwrites that can't do stage directions worth a crap).

Everything in your scrip flowed well. It was connected to a central theam. Of course the actors are what's really going to make this play come to life, but the words and the rythem of the whole things brought the words to life. You gave good charater development just in these two scenes (also a thing some published playwrites lack). You also leave just enough stage directions out so that it can be interperated by the actor or by the director or stage manager. All of your dialog is nautral, organic; almost like you were just a recorder in a conversation.

There actually isn't anything to edit really. Haha. Your grammar is good, sentence structure, everything. I'm cerious to see more! You must keep writing this! =)

Oh. And I mean no direspect, and not to pry but if I may make a segestion... I had a friend, the year I graduated, the acting teacher actually loved her play so much that he actually had his class perform it. She got to call all the shots. You might want to try that out, you never know where it might take you. =)

Originally Posted by InvisibleGirl Spoiler: Scene I (Lights up on Clayton, a young man in his younger to mid-20s. He is sitting on a curb or a bench. He is dressed in old jeans, ratty shoes, an old t-shirt, an old jacket, and a hat. He is smoking a cigarette. A police officer comes from stage left and comes up to "approaches" Clayton.) Just a heads-up: the only play I've read is A Streetcar Named Desire; I've never written a script, so I don't know much about stage directions and all that. But aren't the character names s'posed to be capitalized? If that's just a formality and not really important, you can ignore me. Police Officer: What are you doing in this part of town, son? Clayton: Just smoking a cigarette, sir. Police Officer: Son, don’t lie to me. It’s easier if you just tell me the truth. You waiting on a girl or a dealer? Clayton: No, sir. I’m just smoking a normal cigarette. Girlfriend doesn’t like me smoking in the house, so I went outside and ended up taking a walk over here. Police Officer: Well, not a safe place to be—hey, you look familiar. What’s your name? Clayton: Clayton. Clayton Frasier. Police Officer: (looking for record on some kind of device <-- looking for record? You mean Clayton's record? And what device? Even for stage directions, which seem like they should be vague, that's a little TOO vague. Maybe some kind of cell phone? Plus, do police officers even HAVE criminal records just on hand like that?) Oh, I remember you. Surprised you’re out already with the crap you pulled. Clayton: Me comma too…guess my guardian angel’s been watching over me. Resorting to nit-picky things because I dunno how to crit a script. Police Officer: (gives Clayton weird look) Yeah…well comma you don’t have any warrants so you’re all good. You take care and try to stay out of trouble. Get home before it gets dark. Clayton: Yes comma sir. (Police Officer goes back off stage left. Clayton sighs, puts his hand in his pocket and pulls out a bag of weed.) Clayton: (Looks up) Thanks comma buddy. (sighs, looks frustrated) Yeah, I know. This stuff is stupid, doesn’t help with anything. It doesn’t really hurt anything comma either comma though. What reputation, seriously? The reputation I had flew out the window when I was 18 and if anyone knows that, you should. I’m going crazy…talking to a dead man. A man that did a whole lot worse stuff than I did and I let him lecture me over right and wrong. Well, I don’t care what you say or think! This is my life and I’m gonna live it my way, not how you thought I should. Interesting. I'm really curious about this "guardian angel" now. (Gets up and pushes over a trashcan, making a lot of noise. He then sits down again with his face buried in his hands. He sits like that for a while comma then gets up and picks up the trashcan and throws away the bag of weed. He then walks off stage right period) Scene II Man: How old are you, kid? (Lights up on two jail cells around a little right of center stage. In one there is a man in his 30apostrophes. In the other is a younger Clayton, 18 or 19. Clayton looks over at man, then looks down, ignoring him) Man: Hey, you deaf or something? I asked, how old are you? Clayton: Leave me alone. Man: What’s your problem? Clayton: By the way you look I’m pretty sure that you’ve heard, “You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law” a few times. Yeah, that’s why I’m shut up. That plus you probably smell like a landfill. Man: (gets up quick and stands up against bars between cells. Clayton gets scared, jumps back some Nice.) Son, if I were you I wouldn’t talk that way to anyone here, officers or inmates. You’re liable to get the hair ripped straight out of your head. You may have been a big dog where you came from, but here, you’re just a baby, remember that. Oooh, I like this, super tense. (Man goes back and sits on his bed) Oh, so he's an inmate, too. The way I read it, I thought he was an interrogator. Clayton: I’m 18. Man: Dear Lord, you are <-- italicize? just a baby. How the heck did you get put in here? Clayton: Domestic violence, drug abuse, warrants for DWI. Probably the worst stuff… Man: And you’re only 18? You sure? Clayton: (angrily) I’m pretty sure I know my freakin’ age. <-- Hahaha Man: Alright, settle down. Just making sure. That is pretty stupid stuff to ruin the rest of your life with when you’re only 18. Clayton: Oh, really now? You don’t think I’ve already been told that a million times? My family is disappointed and keep saying the same thing over and over again comma, dash? as if it’s not enough that? I was put in here. My girlfriend isn’t allowed to talk to me; which comma even if she could comma I don’t think she would period Unless she has a bad case of that Stockholm Syndrome crap. Man: Ever heard of first degree murder? Clayton: Well, yeah. Man: That’s why I’m here. Clayton: Um, might want to keep that to yourself if you want to make friends… Man: Ha, you’re funny kid. What’s your name? Clayton: Not sure I should tell you that. Man: (laughs) I promise you, I’m not a killer. Well, I really am comma I guess comma but not in the sense you’re thinking. Haha, I like this guy. Clayton: I don’t really care why you’re in here. I just want to get the heck out of here. Man: How long you got? Clayton: 3 years. Man: I’d say you’re lucky. Clayton: Are you crazy? Man: That’s what a bunch of “experts” think. Clayton: Well 3 years means a lot to me. I won’t get to see my baby born. I won’t see my little brother graduate. And most worst? off, I won’t get sex for 3 years. <-- God. What a guy. Man: Well, up until that last point it was moving. Bwahaha. Really like this guy. Officer: Hey, you two shut up and go to sleep. Man: Hey, night kid. I’ll tell you more tomorrow. Clayton: Whatever. Well this is it...my work it progress...my baby. Whatever you want to call it. Just want to see what people think of it. I know the plot is a bit thin right now but it gets better soon, promise Crits please

Wow, I really liked this! It was well-written, interesting, fast-paced...just clear up the grammatical errors (just commas and whatnot) and you're all good! Also, I think the formal spelling of "Yeah," is with an "h," but that's only a nitpicky thing and just in case you want to publish this. I'm liking how easily we can figure out the characters' personalities; and though this a script, it has all the plot and suspense of a story. Keep this up! It's great!

Your script is going pretty good so far. It's nice and flows very well. I like it. I really want to read more.
For the first part of scene one, is Clayton talking indifferently to the police?
Is scene 2 a flashback? because if it is you have to mention it in your script or else the readers wont know.
No setting for scene 2?

Originally Posted by Azure Your script is going pretty good so far. It's nice and flows very well. I like it. I really want to read more. For the first part of scene one, is Clayton talking indifferently to the police? Is scene 2 a flashback? because if it is you have to mention it in your script or else the readers wont know. No setting for scene 2?

Yes, I guess you would say he is talking indifferently to the police. He's got other things on his mind.

Scene 2 is a flashback but they should be able to tell because in Scene I, it says (Lights up on Clayton, a young man in his younger to mid-20s...) and in Scene II, it says (...a younger Clayton, 18 or 19...). By this the reader should be able to understand that, yes, we have gone back in time.

There is setting for Scene II. (Lights up on two jail cells around a little right of center stage. In one there is a man in his 30s. In the other is a younger Clayton, 18 or 19. They are both dressed in orange jumpsuits. Clayton looks over at man, then looks down, ignoring him) Jail cells and orange jumpsuits? Doesn't that make you think that they're in jail?

I would have liked more of a critique...

Here's Scene III. I'd really like some help on it. I'm not sure if I should end it how it is here, or add more. Feel free to tear it apart. I like speculation!

Scene III

(Lights up on Man asleep in his cell. We then see Clayton and the Officer walk from stage right.)

Clayton: I’m tired of the crap in this place! Can’t you at least treat me like a human?!

Officer: You are being treated like a human, son. Treated like a human that’s done this society wrong.

(Officer is trying to hold on to Clayton’s arm but Clayton keeps pulling away)

Clayton: (yelling) I think even a human that’s done wrong should be given respect, don’t you?!

(Man wakes up because of the noise and begins to listen to the argument.)

Officer: You think you deserve respect? Well, do you think you were showing your girlfriend and baby inside her respect when you beat the crap out of her?

(Clayton turns around and clenches his hand into a fist. Man sits up and looks.)

Officer: I have a whistle around my neck, but I’m choosing not to use it. You just put that hand down and life is gonna be a whole lot easier for you.

(Clayton puts his hand down)

Officer: You’re smarter than I thought.

(Officer opens door to Clayton’s cell, leads him in, then shuts and locks the door. Clayton then proceeds to walk over to his bed and sits down and puts his head in his hands.)

Man: He’s a liar.

Clayton: What the heck are you talking about?

Man: The officer. He said that you were smarter than he thought. (laughs) Well, that’s a lie.

Clayton: (Stands up) Are you calling me stupid?

Man: No, I’m saying that policemen don’t think. Now sit down, you’re making yourself look stupid.

Clayton: You’re really starting to piss me off.

Man: That’s not very hard to do. You’ve seemed to be pissed off at the world ever since you got here.

Clayton: Well, weren’t you?

Man: No, not really. I was more miserable and pitiful. I cried all day long when I first got put in here. I probably seemed crazy…just like I’ve been told I am. It just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t deserve to be put in here. I was a good husband and father. I was a High School counselor who had no record ‘til this.

Clayton: Whoa, wait. You were a-

Man: (Interrupting) Yes, I was a counselor. And now I get counseling. Ohoho!

Clayton: What are you in here for again? Second-hand smoking or something?

Man: First-degree murder, perhaps.

Clayton: Uh.

Man: You seem so indifferent to everything. What’s your problem?

Clayton: Maybe I just don‘t care. Did you think about that? I don’t want to hear you ramble on all day about your problems, when I have my own.

Man: Not just indifferent, but defensive…

Clayton: You know what? Just shut up! I don’t need you to be my counselor. Nothing can help me, because I don’t want it or need it. At least you’re in here for life, when I get out of here I have to face the outside world of judgment and hatred.

Man: Who said that I was in here for life?

Clayton: Well, you killed someone, so it’s either life or… (Gets look of realization on his face)

Man: Death? Yeah.

(Lights down as Man sits down on his bed.)

Originally Posted by InvisibleGirl Here's Scene III. I'd really like some help on it. I'm not sure if I should end it how it is here, or add more. Feel free to tear it apart. I like speculation! Scene III (Lights up on Man asleep in his cell. We then see Clayton and the Officer walk "in" from stage right. Are they walking down the hallway toward Clayton's cell?) Clayton: I’m tired of the crap in this place! Can’t you at least treat me like a human?! <-- Just a question mark, not the exclamation point, too. Officer: You are being treated like a human, son. Treated like a human that’s done this society wrong. <-- I like that line. I can see him saying that in my head. Are we supposed to get descriptions of the characters, or is that up to the directors? I'd like descriptions. (Officer is trying to hold on to Clayton’s arm comma but Clayton keeps pulling away period) <-- Is this because the Officer isn't strong enough or because he's just not holding on to him tightly? I hope the Officer can hold on to his prisoners better than this. Clayton: (yelling) I think even a human that’s done wrong should be given respect, don’t you?! <-- again, just a question mark. We already know he's yelling. (Man wakes up because of the noise and begins to listen to the argument.) Officer: You think you deserve respect? Well, do you think you were showing your girlfriend and the baby inside her respect when you beat the crap out of her? (Clayton turns around and clenches his hand into a fist. Man sits up and looks.) Officer: I have a whistle around my neck, but I’m choosing not to use it. You just put that hand down and life is gonna be a whole lot easier for you. (Clayton puts his hand down period) Officer: You’re smarter than I thought. (Officer opens door to Clayton’s cell, leads him in, then shuts and locks the door. Clayton then proceeds to walks over to his bed and sits down and puts his head in his hands.) Man: He’s a liar. Clayton: What the heck are you talking about? Man: The officer. He said that you were smarter than he thought. (laughs) Well, that’s a lie. Clayton: (Stands up) Are you calling me stupid? Man: No, I’m saying that policemen don’t think. Now sit down, you’re making yourself look stupid. Clayton: You’re really starting to piss me off. Man: That’s not very hard to do. You’ve seemed to be pissed off at the world ever since you got here. Clayton: Well, weren’t you? Man: No, not really. I was more miserable and pitiful. I cried all day long when I first got put in here. I probably seemed crazy…just like I’ve been told I am. It just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t deserve to be put in here. I was a good husband and father. I was a high school counselor who had no record ‘til this. Clayton: Whoa, wait. You were a- Man: (Interrupting) Yes, I was a counselor. And now I get counseling. Ohoho! <-- Bwahaha Clayton: What are you in here for again? Second-hand smoking or something? Is he intentionally forgetting that the Man murdered somebody? Because if someone had told me they were put in jail for first-degree murder, I wouldn't forget that easily. Man: First-degree murder, perhaps. <-- ? Why does he say "perhaps"? is it supposed to be sarcasm? Clayton: Uh. <-- D'you mean "Oh"? How does he say that? Man: You seem so indifferent to everything. What’s your problem? Clayton: Maybe I just don‘t care. Did you think about that? I don’t want to hear you ramble on all day about your problems, when I have my own. Man: Not just indifferent, but defensive… Clayton: You know what? Just shut up! I don’t need you to be my counselor. Nothing can help me, because I don’t want it or need it. So he's saying he can't be helped because he doesn't want or need help? I don't think that makes sense. Also, "it" and "nothing" are vague; maybe replace "Nothing" with "you", or "no one." At least you’re in here for life. When I get out of here I have to face the outside world of judgment and hatred. <-- That sounds a bit cheesy. Would he really say something like that? Man: Who said that I was in here for life? Clayton: Well, you killed someone, so it’s either life or… (Gets look of realization on his face) Man: Death? Yeah. (Lights down as Man sits down on his bed.)

This was another good segment; seems to be moving along well. Characterization's pretty good. I don't have much to critique, besides what I wrote in the text. Keep it up.

Awesome job on this third scene. It works perfectly with the rest. I think it's cool that you don't have an actual name for "Man" and he never introduces himself, and I don't know if you have something planed for it like some dramatic ending where he learns of his mentor-type's name; either way, I love it. =) Please keep me posted!

Your dialogue game is strong. Sounded like a true story tho...