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I Write American Movie Scripts by hoodboi(m): 4:32pm On Dec 24, 2006 |
Hi I am a upcoming script writer, i can write storylines for american movies, anybody know how i can market em or something? |
Re: I Write American Movie Scripts by Seun(m): 6:17pm On Dec 26, 2006 |
Can you share some of these stories you say you write? |
Re: I Write American Movie Scripts by hoodboi(m): 1:14pm On Dec 28, 2006 |
u mean on here ? |
Re: I Write American Movie Scripts by Damsal(f): 7:58pm On Dec 28, 2006 |
Yes he means here. Honey, for anyone to consider your script we need a detailed synopsis. |
Re: I Write American Movie Scripts by hoodboi(m): 11:27pm On Dec 28, 2006 |
can i give u peeps a storyline, not d full one i have not written em down in scripts |
Re: I Write American Movie Scripts by Damsal(f): 10:47pm On Dec 29, 2006 |
hoodboi: Yep better than nothing |
Re: I Write American Movie Scripts by hoodboi(m): 4:01pm On Dec 31, 2006 |
aite, i'm presently writing out the scripts tanx to seun. There's 2 gangstars who get's transported back in time, to when slave trade was very much in existence. that's a lil sumthin from d storyline. |
Re: I Write American Movie Scripts by Seun(m): 7:28pm On Dec 31, 2006 |
<rant> Grrr. Slave trade, racism. Personally, I think people seriously need to forget the past. </rant> ![]() |
Re: I Write American Movie Scripts by hoodboi(m): 4:00pm On Jan 02, 2007 |
Seun, why i am using the slave trade thing is to tackle the issue of black on black violence, In d movie they will come back home changed, after experiencing d whole thing |
Re: I Write American Movie Scripts by Seun(m): 9:14pm On Jan 02, 2007 |
Ok o. Slave trade. Ok o. |
Re: I Write American Movie Scripts by hoodboi(m): 8:38pm On Jan 04, 2007 |
what can u do 4 me ? |
Re: I Write American Movie Scripts by chaj(m): 9:41am On Sep 17, 2007 |
Hi Hoodboi, I offer meticulous proofreading and editing services. You earn a generous discount, being a nairalander ![]() Email me: k10resources@gmail.com |
Re: I Write American Movie Scripts by denex: 10:43am On Sep 17, 2007 |
Go to dollarland.com and advertise your American movie scripts. I hope is not all this slang that you use in writing your script sh'a. What I can do for you is advise you to get yourself a copy of a genuine script of a hollywood movie and see how real scripts look. By the way, just wanting to know if you're any good, what do the following mean in a script: (P.O.V) (V.O) (O.O.V) maybe I should give you a little bit of a sample script from something you know. You do not want to write your script the way the Wachowski brothers wrote the Matrix except you're the one directing the movie yourself. THE MATRIX Written by Larry and Andy Wachowski April 8, 1996 FADE IN ON: COMPUTER SCREEN So close it has no boundaries. A blinking cursor pulses in the electric darkness like a heart coursing with phosphorous light, burning beneath the derma of black-neon glass. A PHONE begins to RING, we hear it as though we were making the call. The cursor continues to throb, relentlessly patient, until -- MAN (V.O.) Hello? Data now slashes across the screen, information flashing faster than we read. SCREEN Call trans opt: received. 2-19-96 13:24:18 REC:Log> WOMAN (V.O.) I'm inside. Anything to report? We listen to the phone conversation as though we were on a third line. The man's name is CYPHER. The woman, TRINITY. CYPHER (V.O.) Let's see. Target left work at 5:01 PM. SCREEN Trace program: running. The entire screen fills with racing columns of numbers. Shimmering like green-electric rivets, they rush at a 10- digit phone number in the top corner. CYPHER (V.O.) He caught the northbound Howard line. Got off at Sheridan. Stopped at 7-11. Purchased six- pack of beer and a box of Captain Crunch. Returned home. The area code is identified. The first three numbers suddenly fixed, leaving only seven flowing columns. We begin MOVING TOWARD the screen, CLOSING IN as each digit is matched, one by one, snapping into place like the wheels of a slot machine. TRINITY (V.O.) All right, you're relieved. Use the usual exit. CYPHER (V.O.) Do you know when we're going to make contact? TRINITY Soon. Only two thin digits left. CYPHER (V.O.) Just between you and me, you don't believe it, do you? You don't believe this guy is the one? TRINITY (V.O.) I think Morpheus believes he is. CYPHER (V.O.) I know. But what about you? TRINITY (V.O.) I think Morpheus knows things that I don't. CYPHER (V.O.) Yeah, but if he's wrong -- The final number pops into place -- TRINITY (V.O.) Did you hear that? CYPHER (V.O.) Hear what? SCREEN Trace complete. Call origin: #312-555-0690 TRINITY (V.O.) Are you sure this line is clean? CYPHER (V.O.) Yeah, course I'm sure. We MOVE STILL CLOSER, the ELECTRIC HUM of the green numbers GROWING INTO an OMINOUS ROAR. TRINITY (V.O.) I better go. CYPHER (V.O.) Yeah. Right. See you on the other side. She hangs up as we PASS THROUGH the numbers, entering the netherworld of the computer screen. Where gradually the sound of a police radio grows around us. RADIO (V.O.) Attention all units. Attention all units. Suddenly, a flashlight cuts open the darkness and we find ourselves in -- INT. CHASE HOTEL - NIGHT The hotel was abandoned after a fire licked its way across the polyester carpeting, destroying several rooms as it spooled soot up the walls and ceiling leaving patterns of permanent shadow. We FOLLOW four armed POLICE officers using flashlights as they creep down the blackened hall and ready themselves on either side of room 303. The biggest of them violently kicks in the door -- The other cops pour in behind him, guns thrust before them. BIG COP Police! Freeze! The room is almost devoid of furniture. There is a fold- up table and chair with a phone, a modern, and a powerbook computer. The only light in the room is the glow of the computer. Sitting there, her hands still on the keyboard, is TRINITY; a woman in black leather. BIG COP Get your hands behind your head! Trinity rises. BIG COP Hands behind your head! Now! Do it! She slowly puts her hands behind her head. EXT. CHASE HOTEL - NIGHT A black sedan with tinted windows glides in through the police cruisers. AGENT SMITH and AGENT BROWN get out of the car. They wear dark suits and sunglasses even at night. They are also always hardwired; small Secret Service earphones in one ear, its cord coiling back into their shirt collars. AGENT SMITH Lieutenant? LIEUTENANT Oh shit. AGENT SMITH Lieutenant, you were given specific orders -- LIEUTENANT I'm just doing my job. You gimme that Juris-my dick-tion and you can cran it up your ass. AGENT SMITH The orders were for your protection. The Lieutenant laughs. LIEUTENANT I think we can handle one little girl. Agent Smith nods to Agent Brown as they start toward the hotel. LIEUTENANT I sent two units. They're bringing her down now. AGENT SMITH No, Lieutenant, your men are dead, "AMERICAN BEAUTY" by Alan Ball Final Draft INT. FITTS HOUSE - RICKY'S BEDROOM - NIGHT On VIDEO: JANE BURNHAM lays in bed, wearing a tank top. She's sixteen, with dark, intense eyes. JANE I need a father who's a role model, not some Hot geek-boy who's gonna spray his shorts whenever I bring a girlfriend home from school. (snorts) What a lame-o. Somebody really should put him out of his misery. Her mind wanders for a beat. RICKY (O.S.) Want me to kill him for you? Jane looks at us and sits up. JANE (deadpan) Yeah, would you? FADE TO BLACK: FADE IN: EXT. ROBIN HOOD TRAIL - EARLY MORNING We're FLYING above suburban America, DESCENDING SLOWLY toward a tree-lined street. LESTER (V.O.) My name is Lester Burnham. This is my neighborhood. This is my street. This, is my life. I'm forty-two years old. In less than a year, I'll be dead. INT. BURNHAM HOUSE - MASTER BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS We're looking down at a king-sized BED from OVERHEAD: LESTER BURNHAM lies sleeping amidst expensive bed linens, face down, wearing PAJAMAS. An irritating ALARM CLOCK RINGS. Lester gropes blindly to shut it off. LESTER (V.O.) Of course, I don't know that yet. He rolls over, looks up at us and sighs. He doesn't seem too thrilled at the prospect of a new day. LESTER (V.O.) And in a way, I'm dead already. He sits up and puts on his slippers. INT. BURNHAM HOUSE - MASTER BATH - MOMENTS LATER Lester thrusts his face directly into a steaming hot shower. ANGLE from outside the shower: Lester's naked body is silhouetted through the fogged-up glass door. It becomes apparent he is masturbating. LESTER (V.O.) (amused) Look at me, jerking off in the shower. (then) This will be the high point of my day. It's all downhill from here. EXT. BURNHAM HOUSE - MOMENTS LATER CLOSE on a single, dewy AMERICAN BEAUTY ROSE. A gloved hand with CLIPPERS appears and SNIPS the flower off. CAROLYN BURNHAM tends her rose bushes in front of the Burnham house. A very well-put together woman of forty, she wears color-coordinated gardening togs and has lots of useful and expensive tools. Lester watches her through a WINDOW on the first floor, peeping out through the drapes. LESTER (V.O.) That's my wife Carolyn. See the way the handle on those pruning shears matches her gardening clogs? That's not an accident, "DONNIE BRASCO" by Paul Attanasio Based on the book, "Donnie Brasco" by Joseph D. Pistone with Richard Woodley REVISED DRAFT July 27, 1992 EXT. DAY. WASHINGTON, D.C. An AERIAL VIEW of the nation's capital, MOVING IN on the stolid limestone box of FBI HEADQUARTERS. Supered below: FBI HEADQUARTERS. WASHINGTON, D.C. 1981. CUT TO: INT. DAY. FBI HEADQUARTERS A spacious corner OFFICE. American flag, FBI seal, and a plush carpet -- Federal blue. CLENDON HOGUE, 40s, barrel chest, shrewd eyes over half-moon glasses, PRESIDES behind a vast desk. The impressive mien of earned authority. Before him: JULES BONOVOLONTA, late 40s, Green Beret veteran, SUPERVISOR, 140 pounds of pugnacity and gristle. Ex-street agent cramped by headquarters. PAT MARSHALL, late 30s, a CASE AGENT, compulsively organized, with haunted choirboy's eyes. CLARENCE LEBOW, early 40s. Assistant SECTION CHIEF. Brooks Brothers, heavy starch. LEBOW It's going down tonight. JULES Says who? A fucking wire. LEBOW A reliable wire. JULES A fiction writer. Hogue peruses SURVEILLANCE PHOTOS of Sonny Red and Sonny Black. Then reads the INFORMANT'S REPORT. MARSHALL Is that the 209, sir? LEBOW There's going to be a war between Sonny Red and Sonny Black -- it's all over the streets. JULES Clarence, you couldn't find the streets with an asphalt detector. MARSHALL Sonny Black goes, everyone with him goes. JULES That's doesn't mean it's tonight. LEBOW Even if it's not tonight -- and I'm not saying it's not tonight -- it could still be tonight because it could be any night. JULES Bleep you, Clarence. LEBOW Hey! I'm a Mormon! HOGUE You have some objection to these guys killing each other? MARSHALL It's just that -- one of them's one of us. HOGUE An informant? JULES An agent. Undercover. HOGUE Then why are you depending on an informant? What does the agent say? (off awkward looks) When's the last time you spoke to him? JULES Three weeks. MARSHALL Three weeks and two days. HOGUE He checks in every three weeks? MARSHALL He checks in when he checks in, sir. JULES We had to make up the rules as we went along -- HOGUE My predecessor started this? JULES His predecessor. LEBOW It's been five years. MARSHALL Five years and three months. JULES I am not gonna blow a chance to cripple the entire fucking Mafia just because some fucking empty suit in Blue Carpet Land -- LEBOW I am so sick of your superior New York attitude -- JULES -- thinks there's gonna be a shootout tonight after the fucking tarantella. LEBOW You're going to risk a man's life just to make cases. JULES (right back) Making those cases is his life. HOGUE And how many cases do we have? MARSHALL (guessing) A hundred, two hundred, HOGUE Which one? JULES The truth is we don't know. HOGUE Let me get this straight. Nobody knows where he is. Nobody's spoken to him. He's been undercover five years. He might very well get killed tonight -- at a fucking wedding -- not because he's one of us, but because he's one of them. I've been on the job one fucking week. And it's my fucking decision? How the hell did this happen? Awkward looks and foot shuffling all around. MARSHALL What time's the wedding? LEBOW Eight o'clock tonight. THE CLOCK on the wall reads "9:36." HOGUE Who is this fucking guy? DISSOLVE TO: INT. NIGHT. BAR WASHINGTON (1975) CLOSE ON JOE PISTONE, 30s, athlete's build, body languid with a killer's confidence. Eyes dead as a shark's. He chafes at his rep-striped tie and off-the-rack suit. WIDER LeBow, Marshall, and two other SUITS around the table. Jules delivers a TOAST. Supered below: BLACKIE'S. WASHINGTON, D.C. JULES , And so, Joe, we wish you bon voyage with this farewell drink. We'd give you a farewell dinner -- but why spend all that money when you'll just come crawling back to your old desk? Laughter around the table. The CLINK of glasses, LEBOW I would love to know how you sold them on this. DONNIE I told them I wanted to get far away from you, Clarence, They got it instantly. LEBOW We've had our best guys on this since, what, Valachi? Twenty years? MARSHALL Who knows? We never tried anything like this. LEBOW What does that tell you? MARSHALL The Director thought it would be too corrupting. JULES Then maybe I should do it. I'm in a mood to be corrupted. LEBOW You know what these people are like. They're all married to each other's cousin. JULES (shrugs) It's six months. MARSHALL I think it's great. Undercover's a new area. Get in on the ground floor. LEBOW It's a wild goose chase. I'm saying this as a friend. JOE What do I know? I'm just a dumb guinea. LEBOW Don't talk that way, Joe. (beat) Because, you know, you are just a dumb guinea. LAUGHTER from the group. Joe doesn't know whether to join in or punch somebody. Jules hands him a large beribboned BOX. JULES Here you go, Joe. Joe opens the box. A wide-brimmed Al Capone FEDORA. Uproarious laughter from the group. LEBOW If you already have one, you can return it. JULES Put it on! Against his will, Joe puts on the hat. More laughter from the group. CUT TO: EXT. DAY. SUBURBS Three exuberant TOMBOYS play football on the front lawn of a modest split-level home: TERRY, 13, rebel in a hurry; KERRY, 10, the good girl; and SHERRY, 8, the baby. Terry hikes the ball, drops back to throw, A PASS spirals up into the air, where it's INTERCEPTED by Joe, who appears out of nowhere. SHERRY Daddy, Daddy! Joe feints, tries to dodge the girls, Then sidesteps, JOE I'm out of bounds. Stop! This -- look -- this is out of bounds! They tackle him anyway. Grab his legs till he TOPPLES in a laughing heap. MAGGIE PISTONE, a pretty, strong-willed blonde in her 30s, emerges at the front door. SMILES at the scene. Then FROWNS as she realizes -- CUT TO: INT. LATER. LAUNDRY ROOM Joe stands in his suit jacket and boxer shorts while Maggie tries to remove the GRASS STAINS on the pants knees. MAGGIE I swear to God, Joe, I have to spray you with Scotchgard every morning. Joe embraces her from behind. JOE What am I supposed to do? Terry tackles like her mother. He gropes at her. She moves his hands off, MAGGIE Illegal holding. His hands go back to groping. She smacks them, JOE Roughing the passer. MAGGIE I suppose I should be grateful that it's not blood stains, or powder burns. Like the old days. JOE I got some good news today. We're going back to Jersey. MAGGIE You're kidding! You got transferred? JOE The kids can see their grandparents. Plus it's GS-13. That's two thousand more. MAGGIE My God! When did this all happen? JOE Just today. MAGGIE What aren't you telling me? JOE Nothing. MAGGIE I know enough about the Bureau that nothing happens this quickly, Joe. Especially if it involves a raise. JOE Remember that guy I met at Quantico, that supervisor? Berada? Be asked for me. Safe and Hijackings, in New York. MAGGIE But this is a desk job, right? (beat) I thought we agreed about you going back on the street again. JOE This is different. It's undercover. MAGGIE What does that mean, undercover? JOE Undercover. You know, undercover. MAGGIE Will you come home at night? JOE It's a good opportunity. MAGGIE Undercover in what? JOE An FBI wife doesn't ask, Maggie. MAGGIE Will you be home on the weekends? JOE It's just six months. MAGGIE You waited till this was all decided. You never asked me -- you knew what I was going to say. What do you want from me, Joe? JOE I want you to say, 'It's okay'. 'It's great'. MAGGIE You finally got to headquarters and now you're going back on the street. JOE Don't you understand? I buy a Brooks Brothers suit but there's always a button that comes off or a stain that won't come out -- it's like the suit knows I don't belong in it. I sit in a room with Clarence and the rest of them and the only way I know something's funny is when everyone else laughs. Everything, all day, it's just (gestures) This much off. MAGGIE You're as smart as they are. JOE I could be a fucking Ph.D. from Harvard and it wouldn't matter -- I cannot win. To do something that's never been done, that they say can't be done, that they can't do -- don't you see? That's the only way I'm ever gonna fit in with them. On my terms. She looks at him. Smiles. She loves him for who he is, as frustrating as that can be. She embraces, kisses him. MAGGIE Well, at least you warned me. Remember? 'Maggie, if you marry me, JOE (unison) , you're in for a big adventure.' They kiss again. And kiss. Joe kicks the door to the laundry room SHUT behind him, |
Re: I Write American Movie Scripts by hoodboi(m): 3:51am On Oct 20, 2007 |
I am quite gud with nigerian scripts too, I'm rilly creative, but my problem is time, i can't seem to settle down nd finish a script, i just get halfway or so and jst drop it. |
Re: I Write American Movie Scripts by Seun(m): 4:22pm On Oct 20, 2007 |
Wait a minute - these scenes are from actual movie scripts. what's the point? ![]() |
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