Page: 1

Is Anyone Here Into Creative Writing?

gavrochegirl
Broadway Legend
joined:4/16/05
Broadway Legend
joined:
4/16/05
re: Is Anyone Here Into Creative Writing?#16
Posted: 8/24/06 at 4:44am
Bump! I'm working on a play called Inner City Kids and would like to share some opening monologues from the play that I typed up tonight. re: Is Anyone Here Into Creative Writing?

The character breakdown for Arty is this:

"Arty -- Arty is a rebellious 16 year old living in extreme poverty. He also drinks vodka occasionally."

Here's his opening monologue.

Arty: Hi. Iím Arty, or as my parents call me, Arthur. My friends say I have a drinking problem. I think I might have one. But Iím not really sure. You see, the only thing I drink is straight vodka. Not any of that other crap like wine or beer. I keep it in a water bottle almost all the time. Sometimes, when my parents are on vacation, I drink it straight from the real bottle. No one has ever caught me. But Iíve been drunk, and my parents think itís from all the football I play at school. So theyíre sending me to this group at my church that meets on Monday nights. I dunno why they would be so stupid as to think that all of my drunkenness is from playing football. Hah! Parents can be such screwballs sometimes. (He reaches down for a water bottle under his chair, unscrews the cap, and takes a large swish of the vodka inside it. He holds it in his lap.) Cheers!

Here's one more. This is Emma May's opening monologue. Her character breakdown:

"Emma May -- A 14 year old who is in a gang. When her temper flares, her violence level rises."
Emma May: Iím Emma. Emma May. But call me Emma. I hate my name. So, uh, Iím being sent to this inner city kids whatchamacallit down in Brownsville causeí the fuzz thinks I need to quote ďcalm down.Ē Calming down is not my forte, however. My temper is shorter than an inch. Iím in a gang, so I guess thatís what makes my temper so short. One night, I went out with my gang around 3 in the morning to spray paint some walls. This other gang walked up to us and taunted us. I was up on the wall spraying and noticed there was trouble. I jumped down, confronted the guys, and began to kick them in places I shouldnít say aloud. Then, one of the guys in my gang gave me a gun, and said, ďShoot. In the air. They donít have guns. Donít worry.Ē I was so scared at that very moment, so scared I was about to cry. I didnít want to be kicked out of the gang, so I took the gun, cocked it, shut my eyes really tight, pointed it towards the open sky, and pulled that little trigger. It scared the other gang so badly that they ran off in the other direction. I dropped my can of spray paint and the gun, and my gang ditched me, leaving me to sit on the curb in the cold as the police drove up to me. I could smell and see the smoke coming from the gun. This time, I broke down as if my boyfriend broke up with me. The police questioned me, took me to the station, and I stayed in juvvy hall for around two weeks. In the midst of those weeks, I faced a judge, who said to send me to the inner city kids thing. So here I am, in front of this church, all alone. And this time, without a gun, thank God.

I'll post more later. re: Is Anyone Here Into Creative Writing?

What the puck?!