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my dollar baby progress
I figured it would be polite to post my news and progress with my "one dollar baby option".
Being the screenwriter for this short film, it was my task first to adapt it for the screen. The script is at it's third draft and runs for some 45 pages. I wanted to remain 100% faithful to the original work, but also extend the story/universe and basically tell more. I figured there wasn't much point doing the script, unless I could bring something to the table (so to speak).
My main concern was if it read like two writers had written it, it would fail. Hence I have pestered quite a few of his fans to read and give feedback, to make sure I'm hitting the right notes.
Because of the complexities of film funding and the running length, at 45 pages it would be expensive to shoot. So myself and a producer friend are pitching for funding from the Irish film board. This funding has a limit of 15 pages for scripts. This has meant I have had to write a reduced version of the story. Reduced in fact to be as much of the original tale as possible. This has been submitted to the board and results are due in October. If it succeeds it will be produced and shown in festivals through out Ireland and Europe.
My overall goal is to use the 15 minute film board funded short as a visual pitch to get investors on board to invest in a feature length version. The script will be a 90 minute (extended) version of the story. Of course if this happens I will have to look for a different option on the piece. The feature scripts is already about half complete.
I would like to sign off (for now) by thanking Mr. King and his assistants for their permission and help on this, as it has been a great learning experience adapting this story for the screen.
I've kept the title a surprise, to see if you can guess the story from the additional scene(s) below - not from original short story.
Here is the free taster:
...
EXT. ROADSIDE - DAY
An almost perfect autumn day.
The sun hangs low over open green fields.
The trees appear to be the first victim of the approaching winter. The leaves that still hang from trees are now brown and dying.
A car comes to a stop outside a quaint old run down house. The house has the look of once being cared for, before the years caught up on both it and whomever owns it.
INT. CAR - MOMENTS LATER
JACK LUMLEY, 33, dressed in jeans and leather jacket, checks his note pad, as he switches off the car’s engine.
He picks up a piece of paper from a pile of documents on the passenger side seat and examines the writing on it.
Jack removes his sunglasses as he reads.
JACK
(Talks to himself)
Time to see if the Sheriff’s hunch is right...
Jack places the page back down onto the pile of documents.
A lost poster is visible in the pile. The details of the poster are obstructed by the other documents stacked on top of it.
Jack opens the glove compartment and places his sunglasses inside.
Amongst the contents of the compartment sits a hand gun.
Jack closes the compartment and steps out of the car.
EXT. DRIVEWAY - MOMENTS LATER
Jack walks towards the house.
He stops and looks down with curiosity at a paving stone as he walks through the main gate of the house.
A passage from the old testament, Genesis 1-2 has been carved into the stone.
Jack examines the stone.
STONE CARVING
And God said, Let there be light: and there was light. And God saw the light, that it was good: and God divided the light from the darkness.
JACK
(Talks to himself)
Oh great, a religious nut.
Jack steps over the stone as approaches the house.
EXT. VERANDA - DAY
Jack approaches the front door and knocks.
BOOTH (O.S.)
Good day to you.
He jumps with fright as he looks to the end of the veranda.
Jack shields the low autumn sun from his eyes and gazes at JEREMIAH BOOTH, 80, who sits in a wooden rocking chair.
JACK
Mr. Booth?
Booth smiles.
BOOTH
In the flesh. The Sheriff called ahead to say I could expect a visitor.
Jack holds out his hand and Booth shakes it.
BOOTH (CONT’D)
Big city boy I hear?
Booth gestures for Jack to take a seat.
Jacks sits.
BOOTH (CONT’D)
New York.
Booth looks at Jack for a moment.
BOOTH (CONT’D)
Always wanted to go there. But the years just passed me by.
He looks down at his legs.
BOOTH (CONT’D)
Don’t think these old legs of mine would be up to much of a journey. Least not one as far as the big apple.
The two men share a smile.
BOOTH (CONT’D)
Here’s me rambling on. My apologies. But not many folk take the time to visit and old man like me.
Jack smiles to himself and sits back in the chair.
JACK
That’s fine. Take your time.
Booth raises a bottle of whiskey from below his chair and places it on the small table between them.
JACK (CONT’D)
None for me thanks. I’m driving.
BOOTH
The Sheriff said you’re a reporter.
JACK
No. Not quite. I’m a writer not a reporter.
Booth pours himself a drink as he examines Jack.
BOOTH
So what are you writing about?
Jack takes out his note pad.
JACK
It’s a book about the people who have gone missing in these parts over the years.
Booth takes a sip of his drink.
BOOTH
(Smiles)
Lots of folk go missing. Some want to get lost. Why did the Sheriff think you might learn something worthwhile from me?
Booth’s expression changes to one of concern.
...
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