first playwriting project
So I entered a playwriting class this year because it seemed like a shit load of fun and, bonus, fulfilled a gen-ed AND an upper-level class. This is my first one--the assignment was to begin it at... how did she put it... well I don't remember, and I'm on the top bunk so I don't want to get down to look it up in my notebook, but in like a moment of crisis. There was to be no backstory, and it had to be between only two characters. Oh and it had to be three pages long.
I'd never written anything close to a play before, so I hope the format is okay, and that there's not too much/too little/too awkward action or dialogue. But I figured I'd find out more when we critique it in class tomorrow, so I'll just post the first draft here. Tell me what you think!
GARDEN SHED. Hanging on nails on the walls are various large and rusty garden tools. Most of the floor space is crowded with dusty cardboard boxes, an old crib, baskets, a nonfuctioning refrigerator, old boots, etc. In the very middle of the shed is what appears to be a conglomeration of scrap metal, wires, flash lights, and an old satellite dish. A single cord snakes from under the device and is plugged into a surge protector. The lights are flickering more quickly with each moment and a whirring noise is generated from within the object. A teenage boy, JOHN, is on the floor next to the machine as if he's recently fallen and a young woman, LISA, is standing over him holding a shovel.
JOHN. What in fuck's name do you think you're doing?
LISA brings the shovel above her head and JOHN covers his face. She brings it down on the wire and the noise from the machine stops.
JOHN. Why did-how did-no!
LISA. Get off the floor. And for god's sake wear a pair of jeans or something.
JOHN. You ruined it! That was my life in there, in that-in that-!
LISA. (opening the shed door) No. This is your life. Out here.
JOHN. No way in hell I'm moving. You're not mom. My life was just about to start, and you-you aborted it! Murderer!
LISA. Stop being melodramatic. Let's go outside.
JOHN. There's a difference between being melodramatic and legitimately angry.
LISA. And there's also a difference between being a little weird and legitimately crazy. You're toeing the line. Now get in the house before the pizza burns.
LISA. (unscrewing the gas cap on the lawn mower when JOHN doesn't move, and pulling a lighter out of her pocket) I'll throw it in.
JOHN. Then you'll die too.
LISA flicks on the lighter. JOHN moves around her and out of the shed. LISA lingers, staring at the contraption in the shed. Then with the shovel still in her hands she knocks off the satellite dish and a few of the flashlights, then exits.
---
KITCHEN. It is small with linoleum floors and countertops that are green under the grime. There is no dishwasher and the sink is full of dishes. The refrigerator is old and hums loudly. In the middle of the room is a worn table strewn with magazines and pencils. Cigarette smoke and the sound of a woman chatting on a telephone drifts in through one of the doorways. LISA and JOHN are eating DiGornio pizza on paper plates.
LISA. So how's school coming? Have you made any friends? No? Good; they're a waste of time in high school. College, even, I'm discovering. You'll just end up leaving them. And they you. Just get your grades so you can go to a school like mine, make bank, and get out of this place. Live a normal life. You want to be normal, don't you? Don't you?
JOHN. I'm not normal.
LISA. Of course you're normal. You're as average as they come; you just haven't accepted it yet. But don't worry. Average is good. There are plenty of crazies in this world and we don't need another.
JOHN and LISA look down as a crash is heard from below them, then they go back to their pizza.
LISA. Listen, I know you're mad at me for destroying your... thing. And I have no problem doing all the talking, and I'm done sugarcoating. You're not special, John. They're not coming for you. He's a myth, that white in shining armor-or in gleaming space ships.
JOHN puts his pizza on his plate and pushes it away from him.
LISA. The best you can do is what you're supposed to. And you're supposed to go to college, fulfill a niche, then die young. That's my schedule.
JOHN. You're scheduled to die young?
LISA. I don't create the schedules. I just follow them.
JOHN. Sorry, I don't want dying as part of my five-year plan. If all goes well it won't happen at all.
LISA. First: it's not my five-year plan. If we're going to put it in years it'll be in nine. Second...
LISA picks up her hot pizza and throws it at JOHN, who manages to duck.
LISA. (standing and leaving) Finish your damn food.
---
LISA'S BEDROOM. There is a mattress and box spring shoved against one of the walls. On the bed is a comforter and two pillows, but no fitted sheet or pillowcases. A desk sits under a window, and it is mostly empty except for several burnt matches littered across the surface.
LISA is sitting at the desk, lighting matches one-by-one and putting them out in the same spot on the desk, then throwing them aside. She is interrupted by something she sees out of the window. It is JOHN, leaving the garden shed. A few seconds later he returns, carrying a coiled wire. LISA stands and puts the matchbook in her pocket.
LISA. (to herself) The world doesn't need any more crazies.
---
GARDEN SHED. JOHN is crouched by the device. The damage done to the satellite and some of the lights are already repaired, and he is replacing the power cord. He plugs the new power cord into the surge protector and flicks it on. The whirring sound starts, and he stands.
LISA enters the shed, surprising JOHN who spreads his arms to protect his device.
JOHN. You won't stop me. This isn't your life.
LISA. What did I tell you, John? (she removes her matchbook and strikes a match, holding it over the gas tank to the lawnmower) This could kill us both. Depends how much gas is in here.
JOHN. I thought you said you wouldn't die for another nine years.
LISA. My person is supposed die in nine years, and I was going to do as much as I can in the time allotted. But my body was to live on indefinitely after that. My body and whatever scraps left within it. But all of that's null if my body dies first.
JOHN. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy for doing this.
LISA. You're on the verge of becoming crazy. Trust me. I'm insane. I know. But unlike me-unlike me you have the chance to be normal. Take it.
JOHN. The match is burning you.
LISA. I don't feel it.
JOHN. Just give me this chance.
LISA pauses, then drops the match into the gas tank. It explodes and blasts her into the old refrigerator. Everything erupts into flame and a piece of the roof crashes to the floor. JOHN is thrown across the shed. The lights on the device shine brightly and the whirring sound increases. JOHN opens his eyes, then shields them from the glow coming in from the hole in the roof. He sits up.
JOHN. (smiling) They're here. (he slumps back to the floor)
I'd never written anything close to a play before, so I hope the format is okay, and that there's not too much/too little/too awkward action or dialogue. But I figured I'd find out more when we critique it in class tomorrow, so I'll just post the first draft here. Tell me what you think!
GARDEN SHED. Hanging on nails on the walls are various large and rusty garden tools. Most of the floor space is crowded with dusty cardboard boxes, an old crib, baskets, a nonfuctioning refrigerator, old boots, etc. In the very middle of the shed is what appears to be a conglomeration of scrap metal, wires, flash lights, and an old satellite dish. A single cord snakes from under the device and is plugged into a surge protector. The lights are flickering more quickly with each moment and a whirring noise is generated from within the object. A teenage boy, JOHN, is on the floor next to the machine as if he's recently fallen and a young woman, LISA, is standing over him holding a shovel.
JOHN. What in fuck's name do you think you're doing?
LISA brings the shovel above her head and JOHN covers his face. She brings it down on the wire and the noise from the machine stops.
JOHN. Why did-how did-no!
LISA. Get off the floor. And for god's sake wear a pair of jeans or something.
JOHN. You ruined it! That was my life in there, in that-in that-!
LISA. (opening the shed door) No. This is your life. Out here.
JOHN. No way in hell I'm moving. You're not mom. My life was just about to start, and you-you aborted it! Murderer!
LISA. Stop being melodramatic. Let's go outside.
JOHN. There's a difference between being melodramatic and legitimately angry.
LISA. And there's also a difference between being a little weird and legitimately crazy. You're toeing the line. Now get in the house before the pizza burns.
LISA. (unscrewing the gas cap on the lawn mower when JOHN doesn't move, and pulling a lighter out of her pocket) I'll throw it in.
JOHN. Then you'll die too.
LISA flicks on the lighter. JOHN moves around her and out of the shed. LISA lingers, staring at the contraption in the shed. Then with the shovel still in her hands she knocks off the satellite dish and a few of the flashlights, then exits.
---
KITCHEN. It is small with linoleum floors and countertops that are green under the grime. There is no dishwasher and the sink is full of dishes. The refrigerator is old and hums loudly. In the middle of the room is a worn table strewn with magazines and pencils. Cigarette smoke and the sound of a woman chatting on a telephone drifts in through one of the doorways. LISA and JOHN are eating DiGornio pizza on paper plates.
LISA. So how's school coming? Have you made any friends? No? Good; they're a waste of time in high school. College, even, I'm discovering. You'll just end up leaving them. And they you. Just get your grades so you can go to a school like mine, make bank, and get out of this place. Live a normal life. You want to be normal, don't you? Don't you?
JOHN. I'm not normal.
LISA. Of course you're normal. You're as average as they come; you just haven't accepted it yet. But don't worry. Average is good. There are plenty of crazies in this world and we don't need another.
JOHN and LISA look down as a crash is heard from below them, then they go back to their pizza.
LISA. Listen, I know you're mad at me for destroying your... thing. And I have no problem doing all the talking, and I'm done sugarcoating. You're not special, John. They're not coming for you. He's a myth, that white in shining armor-or in gleaming space ships.
JOHN puts his pizza on his plate and pushes it away from him.
LISA. The best you can do is what you're supposed to. And you're supposed to go to college, fulfill a niche, then die young. That's my schedule.
JOHN. You're scheduled to die young?
LISA. I don't create the schedules. I just follow them.
JOHN. Sorry, I don't want dying as part of my five-year plan. If all goes well it won't happen at all.
LISA. First: it's not my five-year plan. If we're going to put it in years it'll be in nine. Second...
LISA picks up her hot pizza and throws it at JOHN, who manages to duck.
LISA. (standing and leaving) Finish your damn food.
---
LISA'S BEDROOM. There is a mattress and box spring shoved against one of the walls. On the bed is a comforter and two pillows, but no fitted sheet or pillowcases. A desk sits under a window, and it is mostly empty except for several burnt matches littered across the surface.
LISA is sitting at the desk, lighting matches one-by-one and putting them out in the same spot on the desk, then throwing them aside. She is interrupted by something she sees out of the window. It is JOHN, leaving the garden shed. A few seconds later he returns, carrying a coiled wire. LISA stands and puts the matchbook in her pocket.
LISA. (to herself) The world doesn't need any more crazies.
---
GARDEN SHED. JOHN is crouched by the device. The damage done to the satellite and some of the lights are already repaired, and he is replacing the power cord. He plugs the new power cord into the surge protector and flicks it on. The whirring sound starts, and he stands.
LISA enters the shed, surprising JOHN who spreads his arms to protect his device.
JOHN. You won't stop me. This isn't your life.
LISA. What did I tell you, John? (she removes her matchbook and strikes a match, holding it over the gas tank to the lawnmower) This could kill us both. Depends how much gas is in here.
JOHN. I thought you said you wouldn't die for another nine years.
LISA. My person is supposed die in nine years, and I was going to do as much as I can in the time allotted. But my body was to live on indefinitely after that. My body and whatever scraps left within it. But all of that's null if my body dies first.
JOHN. I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy for doing this.
LISA. You're on the verge of becoming crazy. Trust me. I'm insane. I know. But unlike me-unlike me you have the chance to be normal. Take it.
JOHN. The match is burning you.
LISA. I don't feel it.
JOHN. Just give me this chance.
LISA pauses, then drops the match into the gas tank. It explodes and blasts her into the old refrigerator. Everything erupts into flame and a piece of the roof crashes to the floor. JOHN is thrown across the shed. The lights on the device shine brightly and the whirring sound increases. JOHN opens his eyes, then shields them from the glow coming in from the hole in the roof. He sits up.
JOHN. (smiling) They're here. (he slumps back to the floor)