THE Question

            For any writer, there is a question that is as difficult to answer as the infamous where do babies come from? Yet, it must be asked. Where do good story ideas come from? It also has just as many answers, one no more valid than another.

            You have the memoir writers, who are lucky enough to have such interesting lives that other people want to read about them in books, or watch them on a big screen (even if they wouldn’t want to actually live them). For these people, they took the advice, write what you know, quite literally, and became utterly successful for doing so. While I’d like to believe that I live an exciting life, I doubt a “day in the life of Carolyn Mazanec” would keep seats filled in a movie theater. For a second I wished my life was more dramatic, but then quickly took it back when I realized I’d rather watch someone’s exciting life than live it; I don’t have the stomach for so much crazy. Luckily, I realized that there was more than one right answer to my question.

            In a limbo-esque state, some stories are born from exaggerated life experiences, consisting of truth and imagination blended together like two paints on a pallet. Not that I have conducted any research on the subject, but I feel like most writers would fall into this category. This is that vague answer that parents give their children when they ask whether or not Santa Clause is real, and they don’t want to ruin Christmas but they don’t want to lie either, so they end up saying something like anything’s possible. All stories have to stem from somewhere, and so many fit into this category due to its breadth.

            Lastly, we have the Twilight Syndrome. This is a phenomenon when a writer comes up with a multimillion-dollar idea in a dream. While some try to discredit these storytellers by saying it’s just dumb luck, the writer still has to commit the idea to a piece of paper (or more accurately, a computer screen). What separates Stephenie Meyer from your friends excitedly relaying their nightmares in the cafeteria is that Meyer actually pulled it out and made a four-book series out of one simple snooze. Many writing instructors stress the importance of keeping a dream journal, in which you jot down random facts about the world that spins inside your head. In the notes app on my iPhone, I have started making a list of all the dreams that I would someday like to prod and pull at to make box office hits. While I may be getting a little ahead of myself, here are a few loglines I’ve come up with that stem from the hours when I’m not awake.

After a traumatic car crash, a struggling screenwriter realizes that Vicodin enhances her dreams, providing her with box office hit movie ideas while she’s sleeping. As her career explodes but her supply runs thin, Grace will do anything to get more Vicodin and keep herself on top of the Hollywood scene.

In the movie, Gap Year, four high school graduates travel to China in order to experience the ultimate adventure, filming a documentary on their experience. But when things quickly go wrong very far from home, these privileged teens have to grow up much quicker than they expected.

When straight-laced Father Fraser runs into the one true love of his life, he must relive the past as he tries to explain why he decided to become a priest in the first place.

            When I planned to watch a movie this afternoon, I regrettably fell asleep on my couch as the movie trudged on without me. (I guess Netflix never bought the “no man left behind” idea.) When I wake up from unintentional naps, I always feel extremely disoriented. However, this time I could only think of the crazy dream I had just had.

In this modern-day spin on Sleeping Beauty,

Mairin Pierce desperately wants to lead the life of an average teenager. However, when she is plagued by a curse that inhibits her from being able to wake herself up, she realizes that she is anything but average.

After writing this logline for it, I still couldn’t get the idea out of my head. So, like any good writer would tell me to do, I wrote. The following is a scene born from the ever-popular Twilight Syndrome. In that same fashion, it is also my long-awaited pass at teen romance. Depending on your taste in teen romance movies, feel free to roll your eyes or love every second of it!

EXT. BEACH – DAY

The air is unbelievably blue and a slight breeze shakes the sand. MAIRIN covers her eyes from the sand, as her long dark hair blows in all directions. It looks like the beach is deserted when...

               EMMA

     So what do you think, Mair?

Mairin turns around to face EMMA, a tall freckly girl who’s always smiling. The wind gets LOUDER, and Mairin has to raise her voice.

               MAIRIN

     I couldn’t do that...

               EMMA

     Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about it.

               MAIRIN

     Of course I’ve thought about it.

               EMMA

     Then why not?

               MAIRIN

     I don’t know.

INT. CLASSROOM – DAY

A TEACHER stands at the front of the classroom, filling the chalkboard with math problems. The piece of chalk CLICKS on the chalkboard like clockwork.

               TEACHER

Now, when you’re attempting these problems on your own, I want you all to remember each step of the fundamental theorem of calculus.

ANGLE: THE STUDENTS sit in their desks; they look bored. A note is quickly passed across the aisle. ZOOM IN to two desks in the back. There is Mairin with her head against the book. At first, it looks like she’s reading it up close. But as we ZOOM IN more we see that she’s sleeping.

EXT. BEACH – DAY

Mairin turns when she hears FOOTSTEPS coming down the beach; she squints. TWO LINES OF RUNNERS are coming towards them, but running backwards. Mairin is relieved, glad it wasn’t something else.

               MAIRIN

     But where would I stay?

               EMMA

     I’m sure we could think of something.

               MAIRIN

     You mean I could think of something.

Emma gets quiet, an unnatural state for her. Mairin’s hardened face now thaws.

               MAIRIN

     No, you’re right. We would think of something

Emma smiles.

               EMMA

Like maybe we could renovate that old lighthouse in the bay, of course we’d have to find some paint and brushes and a little plywood to fix the parts where the floor fell in...

Emma FADES OUT, as Mairin looks out across the water. She is no longer listening.

INTERCUT—

A spitball flings through the air, landing on top of Mairin’s head. We hear SNICKERS offscreen. A hand reaches out to pick the spitball out of her hair...

This is DANE. He is toned and handsome, and when he throws the spitball on the ground, the SNICKERING stops.

INTERCUT—

The MAN in the front of a running line WAVES to Mairin. Mairin blushes.

               EMMA

Now if that isn’t a reason to stay, I don’t know what is.

Mairin LAUGHS it off. In an instant, the sky suddenly darkens and Mairin looks up. A flock of thousands of seagulls CAW loudly. Mairin puts her arm over her head and ducks down. They’re coming right for her.

INTERCUT—

The teacher is now standing above Mairin, TAPPING her foot, hands on her hips. All TALKING amongst the other students comes to a hault.

               TEACHER

     I don’t allow sleeping in my class, Ms. Mairin.

Mairin doesn’t move.

               TEACHER

     C’mon, don’t play games with me.

The teacher smacks her hand on the desk by Mairin’s ear, but Mairin doesn’t even flinch.

               DANE

     She can’t hear you Mrs. Penn, remember?

INTERCUT—

The seagulls are diving at her like kamikaze, stabbing her with their beaks. Emma is in the background, frantic, but she can’t do anything to help. Mairin SCREAMS.

MAIRIN’S P.O.V.: Seagulls coming at her, her vision starts to shake and everything gets blurry.

INTERCUT—

Mairin, still not awake, is now shaking in her sleep. Mrs. Penn steps back, horrified. The STUDENTS all turn to stare at Mairin; they no longer think this is funny.

               TEACHER

     Someone go get the nurse.

A GIRL towards the front of the classroom gets up from her desk and rushes out the door. Dane gets up from his seat, arms outstretched. He places them below her ribs and can feel her trembling. He presses his fingers below her rib cage.

INTERCUT—

MAIRIN’S P.O.V.: The shaking gets more violent, Emma’s SCREAMS get more faint, the colors get brighter, and everything suddenly is white.

INTERCUT—

Mairin opens her eyes, and everyone is staring at her. She wipes the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand and smiles weakly. No one speaks.

               MAIRIN

There’s nothing like some calculus to wake you up in the morning, am I right?

No one laughs. THE NURSE stands in the doorway and Mairin waves at her. She smiles, then turns and leaves. Mrs. Penn hesitates, then turns and continues her calculus lesson. Unsure whether to be angry or concerned.

               MRS. PENN

Just so we’re all aware, I will simply not tolerate sleeping in my classroom.

          MAIRIN

Sorry Mrs. Penn.

          MRS. PENN

     (flustered)

That’s quite alright Mairin, just don’t do it again.

Slowly, everyone turns back to the front of the room and continues scribbling into their notebooks. Mairin turns to Dane.

               MAIRIN

          (embarrassed)

     Thanks, Dane.

               DANE

     What are friends for?

            MOVIES WATCHED: 10

            SCREENPLAY PAGES WRITTEN: 39

            NOVEL PAGES WRITTEN: 65