I’ve been pretty busy lately, and I wanted to show you a few pages of a script I finished recently. It’s about Emily, a woman guitarist who’s trying to start a Heavy Metal band with a handicap she won’t allow to get in her way. I had a lot of fun writing it, she’s a lot of fun, and I hope you have a lot of fun reading her.
INT. EMILY’S BEDROOM – MORNING
An old alarm clock goes off, glass absent from its face,
ringing its bells like a caffeinated woodpecker. The woman
it’s trying its best to win the attention of currently has
her head buried under a pillow. A feeble attempt to stop the
day. She eventually gives up and tosses the pillow at the
clamor. Or rather, tries to. She overestimates how far the
clock is by a few feet. She then lets out a defeated sigh
and sits up.
EMILY VERDA’S hair sticks up at all sorts of angles,
compliments of sleep. She sits on the edge of her bed, hands
on thighs, wearing a simple spaghetti-string top and pajama
pants. After slapping her legs rhythmically, she almost
immediately switches from being exhausted to being wide
awake, then turns off the alarm.
You’re gonna get them today.
INT. EMILY’S BATHROOM – MOMENTS LATER
EMILY brushes her teeth while humming the same four notes
over and over. Faster, slower, higher, lower. The fingers on
her free hand, black nail polish chipped, rap upon the
mirror at the same tempo changes. Her eyes in the mirror are
unfocused, yet there’s still thought behind them.
She locks onto a particular tempo, repeating it twice, then
smirks before she spits into the sink.
INT. EMILY’S BEDROOM – MOMENTS LATER
A proper view of the BEDROOM shows amazing organization
skills. Apart from the pillow slumped in the corner and the
messy bed, everything is exceptionally neat and tidy. Three
other stand-out features are the lack of closet doors, of an
entrance door, and of any mirror. Just outside the doorway
is an astroturf rug.
At the closet and in a terrycloth robe, EMILY chooses
something to wear for the day. Her hair is now combed flat,
and her lips are painted black. She quickly flicks through
hung shirts, pants, t-shirts, skirts, and dresses, giving
some a stroke or two before passing them up.
She goes to a window and opens it. She then licks a palm and
sticks into the world…
Pants and a button-up.
…then gets what she needs while wiping her hand on her
INT. EMILY’S KITCHEN – MOMENTS LATER
EMILY sits on the counter, twixt the sink and toaster, as
she tosses the last bit of one waffle in her mouth. A laptop
sits on the table. She then snatches another waffle from the
toaster. She tears off pieces and eats them, avoiding her
lipstick. While this is going on, she hums the melody she
came up with in the BATHROOM while tapping her bootheels on
Until she almost chokes on a waffle bit.
She tosses what’s left of the breakfast pastry in the
garbage, in a fit of betrayal, then briskly washes her hands
in the sink. Her boots make the plastic mat on the floor
click and pop.
INT. EMILY’S LIVING ROOM – MOMENTS LATER
Sliding on her armor, a well-loved frock coat, EMILY
prepares to leave her apartment. Next, she tucks a pocket
recorder and a flipphone inside the coat. By the door is a
beaten-up guitar case ready to be slung over her shoulder
like a sword. On a short bookcase is her helmet by way of a
top hat and sunglasses. Both are vertically-striped black
and white, with the hat having a bit more business. The
black stripes are felt, the white are like silk, and a ring
dangles from the brim. A finger can easily fit through it,
which she does as she positions the hat so that the ring
hangs over her left ear.
Ready to face the day, she grabs one last thing: her folding
EXT. STREETS – MOMENTS LATER
EMILY walks with a little pep in her step as her cane goes
TAK-TAK-TAK-TAK, making sure that she doesn’t bump into
anyone (while not really caring if she does).
She points a twirling finger in the camera’s general
direction as she taks and trots along.
‘Ello, dear viewer. Emily’s my name
and I was put on this planet for
two reasons: shredding guitars and
bumping into furniture. If the cane
didn’t give the game away, I’m a
bit blind. Don’t feel sorry for me,
though. You’re the ones who have to
see the state the world’s in.
She takes her finger away and continues walking to…
INT. QUEST CAFE – MOMENTS LATER
The bell over the door DINGS as EMILY enters. After folding
her cane, she approaches the register while getting her credit card.
At the counter, a clerk waits with a mug full
of the hot stuff.
Ms. Verda! We ran out of white
chocolate last night, but we have a
EMILY stops in her tracks, flicks straight her cane, and
doffs her hat.
I bid thee good day.
Just kidding, just kidding!
Don’t toy with my heart today.
EMILY folds her cane and continues her morning routine
towards her white chocolate mocha topped with whipped cream
and coconut sprinkles.
I’m a wage slave, I have to get as
much harmless fun as I can to pass
And normally, I’d understand. Nay,
I’d encourage. But I need all my
strength for later.
EMILY swipes her card and enters her PIN as the CLERK
extends the mug.
Oh? Why? Oh yeah, you’re still
doing those auditions. How long
have you been holding them?
EMILY takes the mug and her receipt.
I’m gonna get them today.
How many are you meeting?
Two, but two’s all I need. Thanks
for letting me post my ad here.
That’s how they found me.
Ah, no problem.
Kayley and Leslie. Gonna have a
You just be sure to play your
second gig here.
Who’s ever great their first time
Har har har. I was gonna leave a
tip, but now…
You can’t tip plastic. Besides, you
already swiped your card.
Maybe I was gonna get a few
EMILY starts to step away as she sips her coffee, then turns
back to the CLERK.
Do you know Kayley and Leslie? All
I have are texts that my phone
I only know you because you’re a
creature of habit and this place is
lucky enough to be within sniffing
distance of your apartment.
Heh, too true, too true.
EMILY continues to an empty booth, but not before…
Good luck today, Emily. Really.
She gestures a salute with her mug, then sits. She then
takes a big gulp, points a circling finger towards the
camera, and sets her mug down with a big whipped cream
moustache on her face.
I know what you’re thinking, but
chick bands rock. No, you’re
thinking that other thing and, yes,
I know it’s there. No, no, you’re
thinking that OTHER other thing,
and we’ll never know if Neo
would’ve knocked over that vase.
It’s best to just let it go, I’ve
lost far too much hair over that.
Roy Orbison and José Feliciano.
Drawing blanks? I’m drawing
circles. They’re two of the best
guitarists to have ever lived. They
also found that blindness didn’t
take away frets and chords. Herman
Li is a beast with a guitar THAT HE
PLAYS WITH THE WRONG HAND, just
like Hendrix! So my heritage has
that covered because we all come
from the same womb. Joan Jett,
Bonnie Raitt, Joni Mitchell, Nancy
She brushes the dairy facial hair off with her finger, then
eats it with a grin.