How's that script coming along?

How's that script coming along?

Prove you're not a phony and write a story for this image.

You're not chicken, are you?

>do my homework Sup Forums

-Light refracts through the water as if with every sound the babbling brook babbled, light appeared like iridescent, bright, flashes of pearl white teeth, gold instead of white, falling in and out of sight as if the small waves were lips, lips that hid and revealed the glory of a smile to tease and dazzle, the flow of the water like the rhythm of a poem told slowly but with purpose-

-a hand enters the frame slowly, then penetrates the water carefully, acquiescing the cold, reaching for something that would make the acquiescence evolve into something new, something that would transform the regret into joy-

I can't be bothered writing anymore.

THIS SUMMER

>IN A WORLD (Welcome to the Jungle starts playing)
>WHERE THE MIGHTY CTHULU HAS AT LAST AWAKENED *ear shattering fart noise*
>Tom Cruise looks out the window and sees Cthulhu lumbering across the city.
>He has a flashback to Russell Crowe saying (this was 15 minutes earlier in the movie), "If you gaze upon the Cthulhu you will be stricken instantly by complete insanity!".
>"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, I'M GOING INSANE!"

>Cruise then runs out into the city naked, screaming, his descent into the depths of insanity just beginning.
>The rest of the movie is 2 hours and 45 minutes of Cthulhu destroying a city with brief checkups on the status of Tom's character until madness utterly consumes him
>Tom Cruise sacrifices himself to Cthulu but fights his influence and absorbs his power
>Tom Cruise becomes the new Cthulhu
>We may have to call on him for future adventures

>An older man sways rhythmically back and forth as his fishing line curls and tumbles through the sparkling river. He is an old man, 60. Maybe 70. His knees creak when he bends down with his net and his back aches from standing. The man's name is Anthony.

>Anthony: "Fly fishing is the only thing left in my life that doesn't hurt. I like the way the air smells. I like the bubbly sound from the stream. I like the quiet. The water runs past my legs and soaks up my waders, and fish dart back and forth under the surface. Just a few today, maybe two or three. I'll catch em, take them back to my cabin and gut them, and eat them next to the fire with a glass of whisky. Yea. That will be nice. After that I think I'll kill myself."

>The old man shoves his third fish into the wicker bag around his shoulder and steps carefully over slippery stones out of the river and into the shade. He pauses for a second, looking at the river. Then turns and walks into the trees.

>INT. YOUR MOM'S BED

FADE IN

A man with an enlarged donkey black dick slides out of OP's mom.

FADE OUT
there's your script

>tfw no one comments on my bresson x malik fusion

lotta words for someone dunking their hand in water

Who said I'm not a phony?

Way too much scene direction, retard.

delet this

>Light refracts through the water as if with every sound the babbling brook babbled, light appeared like iridescent, bright, flashes of pearl white teeth, gold instead of white, falling in and out of sight as if the small waves were lips, lips that hid and revealed the glory of a smile to tease and dazzle, the flow of the water like the rhythm of a poem told slowly but with purpose-

Uh ok so this is pretty wordy for something as simple as shimmering water. "The babbling brook babbled" is absurd, I hope you realize how awkward that sounds. You compare the light flashes to pearly white teeth, then immediately contradict your analogy but saying it's gold instead of white. Also light flashes compared to teeth is a pretty big stretch for analogy. Are you comparing the water to the beauty of human language? I kind of get that but again, waayyyy too wordy.
>The water shimmered and murmured as it flowed, a gently comforting stream.


>-a hand enters the frame slowly, then penetrates the water carefully, acquiescing the cold, reaching for something that would make the acquiescence evolve into something new, something that would transform the regret into joy-

You don't have to describe the hand coming in the frame if the point of it is the hand reaching into the water. Just delete the first fragment. "Acquiescing TO the cold" is the proper way to use that word, but it's almost too complicated for what your're describing. Acquiescing has more meaning that what you're using it for here. Replace it with "hesitant" or something and it would work better, especially if you use it again in the 3rd fragment. "reaching for something that would make the hesitation into something new." In general, just tone town it down with the description. Malik doesn't write like this, he does all this artistic shit as a cameraman, not as a writer.

I'm verbose sure, but most of your criticism is unfounded outside of the babbling brook stuff which I used as a bad segue into the language metaphor.

You're missing the melancholy that the word acquiescence connotes which would have set the emotional stage for the following scene in which I would have a gay little Godard-esque voice-over overlaid upon numb fingers dripping into the shot of the brook.

It's all one static shot b t w

Voiceover would be something french new-wave reminiscent, some feminine musings about minor works of authors being all the person can stomach because an idea being utilized imperfectly yet showing pure mastery of a craft almost to it's fullest extent is the only torture of the soul.

Plot would be a man trying to catch a fish that has eluded him for decades which would be synder-tier level of symbolism, symbolizing of course lack of personal achievement/the inability to be great in one's chosen field of work who becomes friends with a disillusioned young french qt student who has potential at being a faggy poet or something but lacks the drive because of the same fear

>You're missing the melancholy that the word acquiescence connotes which would have set the emotional stage for the following scene in which I would have a gay little Godard-esque voice-over overlaid upon numb fingers dripping into the shot of the brook.

If the word isn't used in dialogue how the fuck would the audience know that..?

it's for the people who read the script dummy

Also you're trolling but good job, you got me upset for a few seconds there.

Yea well from what I read so far your script STINKS

Ext brook dusk

The icy stream slithers about Zeke’s ankles. From beneath the current, we see the fisherman’s towering figure.

Zeke lunges into the water with his net.

Zeke
“HAAAAAARGH!”

A bullfrog, engorged for a winter beneath the mud, emerges twitching in the net.

Zeke
“Delicious TOAD.”

Zeke wades through the water, shouldering the net and fishing pole. The sun is poised just over the tree line, shadows lengthening by the minute.
Zeke lurches out of the water and the bullfrog gives a final, quavering croak.

Bullfrog
“RRRROoooorrrrrrrREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!”

A stringy wad of tongue erupts out of the stream. With pinpoint timing, the Bullfrog meets it with his own tongue and the two hold fast.

Zeke yells. Zeke loses his balance and slips, clutching the net as he goes down.

The Bullfrogs croak desperately, several more tongues lash out of the water.

Zeke
“Not THIS time!”

Zeke wrenches the net back and scuttles along the ground, but the frogs prove too wily. Zeke is pulled into the water with his net and eaten by a giant frog the end.

Why am I trolling
I might film this now out of pure boredom, quite like the idea

Thanks for getting my creative juices going OP

THE FISHERMAN scoops up what looks like a fish. It turns out it's just bottle.

THE FISHERMAN
Fuckin bottles! These are why I have cancer

This picture just makes me want to write a Humphrey the Bear fanfic.

>Just spent 10 minutes writing out a multi-part post for a story about this.
>Only just realise that he's fishing
>I thought he was harvesting crops

jdmsa

>How's that script coming along?
Shut the fuck up... I've been busy making things...

ITT: nice blogs

>Father is teaching his gay-looking son to fish, to make him more of a man
>The little faggot thinks he's so clever - he has a net in one hand, to catch fish that swim close to him, and a fishing rod in the other hand, to catch fish further out in the pond.
>But he's not focusing on either of them - whenever he tries to catch a fish with the net, he neglects the rod and takes the line out of the water, he takes the net out of the water when he's trying to catch one with the rod, and all the movement is scaring the fish away
>Father comes over to correct him
>"Son, fishing is about patience. Choose the rod OR the net, leave it in the water and stay still, and wait for the fish to come to you. You're not going to catch twice as many fish by working twice as hard, because you're not thinking about how to apply your effort"
>Satisfied that he's given a good life lesson, the father stands back and watches his son, to see what he'll do.
>The little fag casts his line out into the middle of the pond, lets the hook sink, and waits.
>Just then, a whole school of trout swim right past his feet! As his father looks on, he grabs the net and goes for them, catching three fish in one swing!
>In his excitement, he forgets he's holding onto the fishing rod, swinging it back over his shoulder as he swoops down with the net.
>The line pulls out of the water and whips backwards, and the hook catches his father straight in the eye, leaving him half-blind forever.
Moral of the story: Don't waste your time on fags

I'm guessing you've never read a script in your life. I think maybe you should hit your community college creative writing classes, that seems like it would help your dumb pretentious ass.

Why is he talkong to himself like that? Is he autistic? Also you are writing it like literature, not a cript.

Its supposed to be voiceover. And yea I write a little too prose-like for scripts, im working on it.

>Prove you're not a phony and write a story for this image.
A man watches too many environmentally-conscious documentals and he becomes crazy, goes to live in the mountain and spends his afternoon manually filtering the river's water.

sorry

I love a happy endibg