I had taken a break. . .
It seems that I had written myself into a corner; or maybe it was that I had just left my script open to too many possibilities, at which point I became indecisive. But today that is over. I am determined to push forward. Progress does not happen automatically. It happens when you work for it. That has been a bit of an issue for me to overcome. We all know that, well, some writers end up being some of the biggest procrastinators. That is why I think it helps to be under the pressure of a publisher. When you have deadlines and your under contract, you make it happen. I know that it will be a bit longer before a publisher may pick me up, but I believe that I have figured out a way to create that expectation. Very soon I will sign a contract with my artist, Angela, to start production of the first few pages of Issue #1. This means spending a bit of money that I may feel uncomfortable with at first but if my plan works, I will be able to recoup some of the money spent out of pocket while paying for the rest of the project to get done. After the first five pages are completely finished, plus the cover, I will be able to start advertising on a crowd funding site called Patreon. You may have heard of it. My hopes are that some of you reading this will keep following me along until that point and possibly become one of my patrons. I guarantee when this project takes off, you will not regret giving a single dime!
Thanks for all of your moral support up to this point. I really do appreciate all the attention you have given to this project, even if it is just general curiosity. That being said, I must keep performing and keep your positive attention. What better way to do that than with another excerpt of the script from issue #2?
So here it goes people! I hope you enjoy! Again I must add. Excuse the formatting of the script. I reformatted it to look better for the this medium.
Panel 8: EXT. GHETTO. DAY
The fat man and the matriarch now appear to be sitting at a table outside the door still on the cargo deck of a dilapidated warehouse. The woman is ashing her cigarette and the fat man is closed off with his hands folded across his chest.
I just wanna know what the plans are for the girl. Ya’ not gonna hurt her, right?
Ah, Mista’ PRADA. Don’t come to my place actin’ like you got a conscience now. You make a deal. I done what you want.
The man now known as Mister PRADA glares at the supposed ghetto leader and she returns a grave look as she takes another drag of her cigarette. Prada retorts.
Now SERAPHINE, I always get my hands dirty for you. I neva’ denied that. BUT you gotta admit this is dark. E-even for me.
It is not dark. It is serving a purpose.
Prada’s facial expression changes to one of realization and leans forward. The Matriarch, Seraphine, keeps a cold look about her face.
OH! I know! Ya gettin’ tired aren’t ya?
What you mean?
Tired of druggin’ your own folk for slaves. I bet they startin’ to catch on.
Seraphine puts on a poker face. She simply stares back in Prada’s direction. He gets a smug look on his face, stands and continues to talk.
Maybe I won’t bring you anymore people. Hell, maybe I won’t bring you anymore of that “Zombie” drug you been needin’ so much of lately.
Maybe you won’t make it past Casino road. Or maybe you will. No matter what be the case, my reach extend far past the hood. Simply, I don’t need you and if I don’t need you, I won’t help you. Go Prada, I’m a busy Mama.
Prada glares at Seraphine. Skull 1 is grabbing his elbow, directing the greasy man away from the meeting but he shakes him off. He voluntarily makes his way back to the truck. Mama Seraphine is walking off panel.
Mama has turned around to call back to Prada. She has a menacing smile on her face. The door to the truck is open but Prada has stopped and looked toward her one last time before entering the vehicle. We are viewing this from the back of the fat man’s head. The wind is picking up now. Some trash is blowing around in the street and a tattered American flag waves violently. Off in the distance we can see darker clouds and multiple strikes of lightning. No one is on the street or in the lot anymore. They have all disappeared.
Mista’ Prada! Try to stay dry. The next storm is comin’ and it be loomin’ over this place for a great loooong while!
© 2015 Seth William Greenwood
Okay, so there it is. I hope this is just enough to keep you wanting more. If you think that this is great, wait until you see it incorporated into the artwork!
Please continue to follow along with me in the production of this story. To make is easier to follow along you can follow me on twitter @rubbles63, or Like my Author Page on Facebook! Also don’t forget to Follow by email wordpress or FOLLOW ME ON BLOGLOVIN’!
ALSO CHECK OUT THE AMAZING ART BY ANGELA ZHANG AT Zhanga Studios!
HAVE A GREAT DAY!