copyright 2009 by Adrienne D. Wilson, all rights reserved
Screenplay by Adrienne D. Wilson
copyright 2020 WordPress.com all rights reserved
for Walter Halsey Davis
of the Santa Barbara Writers Conference
EXT. DRIFTWOOD HUT. BEACH MORNING PEARLED LIGHT
Teenie leaves Devlin a note, under three beach stones, she has walked beach, dreamlike, to gather them. Close in on her drawing him a heart surrounded by clouds, with “Who are you?” then a seal’s head pops up from the waves as she walks away, smiling.
EXT. MR. HONEYGARTEN’S HOUSE. BRIGHT SUN, DAY
Teenie parks her bike by the old fence. MELLOMAN his dog is so happy to see her, clowns at fence, wagging and jumping. Birdsounds, Bluejay with peanut, landing.
Mr. Honeygarten are you there?
Just a minute, dear, let me get my staff. Well, hello Teenie dear how very nice to see you again
Mr. Honeygarten, I was wondering if I might be able to have some of those apples on your trees. I want to make a pie
Mr. Honeygarten smiles dearly at Teenie and begins to pick some flowers for her. Close in on his aged face, smiling eyes and warm smile, as Teenie pets Melloman.
You do? I see. Well suppose you help me pick them, and of course you can. I seem to have plenty to spare this year.
I want to share it with you Mr. Honeygarten
Oh my, I haven’t had an apple pie for a very long time
Neither have I, not since Dad left
You must miss him very much Teenie
I do. Every single day.
(old hips aching, puzzles)
Well let me see, we’ll need a basket and the ladder. How about if you go around to the garden shed and collect those for us and I’ll meet you by the trees.
Melloman and Teenie meander through English garden style flowers to the old shed, Honeygarten limps with staff toward the trees- lilting music, uplift close in on her hands picking apples, while he watches, Mellowman by his side
MONTAGE FLASHBACK – ESTABLISHING
Close in on a FOR SALE sign, Teenie’s parents working for a newspaper, bustling business – The Village Crier. Teenie’s parents at work, secretary and reporter. Out of business signs along streets. Teenie’s old house FOR SALE SIGN. Teenie in beautiful bedroom, packing, overhears her parents
INT. NIGHT, TEENIE’S BEDROOM
They closed it, everything. Lock, stock and barrel.
My character TEENIE in Heart of Clouds – this is a twinned hero journey, of Boy and Girl – you will see how she emerges as strong, and so does he. One of the things I wrote about was climate change, in terms of the ice melting. That is what THE WAVE is. So, the children such as Greta all over the world need to see HOPE. They absorb from the adults around them. The feelings and so forth. So on we go. I may put that page thing to take a donation, just not sure how. I am posting the images that are the actual pages in my book as I do the rewrite. So, I show the mother as antagonist. She was my hardest character to write, but, we will soon see her. Like all people, we face things in life, not just in childhood, but all our lives, as we look back across our lives we can see how we coped, this gives us empathy for others.
Your feedback as comments right here in my blog means everything to me. That you also would understand these characters, and the themes.
Copyright WordPress September 2020 by Adrienne Wilson, all rights reserved.
SCENE THREE – INT. MORNING. LIVING ROOM – TEENIE’S HOUSE
In gray light, grey and drab, the living room is quiet. Teenie’s mother CHRISTINA is sitting wrapped in grey light, drab old comforters watching TV. The news drones on about the melting Icecaps at the North and South poles, we close in on the footage. Close up to her mothers face, expressionless, somber. Her father is gone. They do not speak. Teenie silently lets herself out. On the side table by the couch are pill bottles, for depression. A sense of complete hopelessness.
SCENE FOUR – EXT. MORNING. DRIFTWOOD HUT – BEACH
Teenie approaches the Driftwood structure as if it is a marvel. No one is on the beach. She throws herself inside it, finding it has been grace. Close-up on her face, as she watches the sea, then tears.
(sadly watching the sea, whispers)
Maybe I could just live here forever. Maybe whoever built it wouldn’t mind.
Teenie watches the sea and a line of brown pelicans appear. She reaches for the book and pen her father gave her, and begins to draw. Suddenly a heart appears in the sky as a cloud.
(drawing a cloud, shaped like a heart in her book, tears the page out and folds it into an Origami bird, tucks it in the rafters of the driftwood hut)
I love you, Dad
EXT. MORNING BEACH. CLIFFS. DRIFTWOOD HUT
High on a cliff stands a boy 14. DEVLIN UNDERWOOD. He has been watching a girl cry, in the driftwood hut he has been building, close in on his face, puzzling why she is there. He watches as she tucks something in the rafters of his structure, watches as she exits down the beach. Devlin makes for his seahut, to see what she has done. He finds her note and puzzles at the bird shape but doesn’t open it. We see him climbing in and out of tidepools on the hunt to leave something of the sea for her. An abalone shell.
Working with this fabulous yarn from Scheepjes has taken my mind way into a land of special beauty.
But I am writing screenplay and I don’t understand why I got this message behind the scenes from WordPress? So I took a screenshot. I could crochet right now, or I could write. I am writing an adaptation of a novel I wrote back in 2009 in Nanowrimo that I worked very hard on. The rewrite to a screenplay is something I want to use my blog for?
I am not clear about Gutenberg?
Is this artificial intelligence?
I have never seen a message like this until the other day.
For writers WordPress is the best thing that was EVER invented. Not kidding.
I bought the premium version so I could write here?
In November I may write a novel here, when Nano starts again. I used my WP blog endlessly as my nom de plume Valentine Bonnaire, but this is the real me. I designed the book cover for Heart of Clouds myself, and the image is a shot of the clouds off Summerland Beach. WP would not allow me to link it from my old blog and I don’t know why!
This is what a screenplay looks like:
EXT. DAY. Summerland Beach
We see a giant thin cloud rolling across the sky, then a close up to a dolphin jumping.
That is what I was about to start writing.
I got this:
I have loved WP since 2007.
So I never mind talking to them right here in my blog.
here is a screenshot of behind the scenes just now:
It doesn’t want me to link to my OWN BOOK COVER. So I will crop it in Preview and try again. You know I love WordPress, because it has been so seamless since 2007. Everything was always easy and that is because of Ma.tt and all the people who work on this out of their hearts. Anyway tries again. What you are going to see is TEXT that I wrote, from a book I wrote in 2009, translated into what a screenplay looks like.
Here is what the book cover looks like.
I just went to check the news and took a screenshot and saw these. Just know I ❤ WordPress.
I also TRUST WORDPRESS more than any other site. I trust two companies. Firefox and WordPress. The others? Nope.
That is a portrait of my self, and my dog Odin. If you want to see the last thing I wrote in my blog Valentine Bonnaire, you can. I adopted him. These are the beaches we walk all the time and this is what SoCal looks like!
That is Summerland beach, the location for my novel Heart of Clouds.
So there you have it, you see?
Now I can retype the whole thing as I write the screenplay, or just photograph each page.
I’m debating putting a donate dealie on my page in here, and just yesterday I read about that? In the WP Reader. Because this is going to be one of the most beautiful books you have ever read, you see?
It will also be one of the most beautiful films EVER MADE.
How to even begin, with the world in this kind of state?
I would not know.
Except for one thing. I am furious with a ghost. It was my screenwriting teacher Walter Halsey Davis from the SB Writer’s Conference who passed away last summer not long after the Conference ended.
They say it isn’t right to speak ill of the dead, except, what he did to me was unfathomable, but not if you understand the kind of shit Hollywood can be made of. From 2006 until 2019 he was my teacher, and I waited. Twice when I was published under my nom de plume I handed him the books, so that he could see I was a published writer, so that he would take me seriously. Then I handed him my children’s book Heart of Clouds, which I wrote (as a Depth Psychologist from Pacifica Graduate Institute) to address core woundings and how to heal them. I was taken with his film “Do You Remember Love” that starred Joanne Woodward who is one of my faves as an actress, especially for her films like Rachel, Rachel and The Effect of Gamma Rays on Man in the Moon Marigolds. Are those links in youtube? They might be.
Never put all your eggs in one basket. That’s something my grandmother used to say, and I did.
The last thing I ever handed him was a copy of my play, Vanilla Suede.
One dirty trick he pulled on me?
At the last night dinner at the Conference the teachers hand out prizes to the writers who have been in the workshops. Well, I handed him the assignment, do a screenplay using cliches. It was a Rom Com, and funny as hell. I thought he actually meant it, as a teacher. I have had many many teachers in my life. He never said ONE WORD to me, about my writing. He never said ONE WORD about my screenplay. He never said ONE WORD about the book to go to film I wrote that was dedicated to him. Here is what he said in class. “Does anyone have something they want to pitch to me?” I was so in awe of him that it took me three years to work up to that.
What a mean, sorry piece of shit he was.
So here is the deal.
The last sentence he ever said to me was “Let’s go to France.” That was by the pool, when I bought him a drink at the Conference and got him a plate of food. “I need red berries,” he said. In two months he would be gone.
I still have a bad taste in my mouth from those berries.
Last summer I asked a priest at the Mission to bless the book, and I handed it to a bookstore owner here, to ask him what he thought. He loved it. He saw it as a film.
So here is what I am going to do. Right here, in WordPress, copyright to me, I am going to rewrite the book as a screenplay. I am finished with writing under noms, forever. The book has themes that are important to children in it. For survival. So you can help me out here if you want because I would love feedback from the global audience that reads WordPress. The kids need a feel good film. They and the audiences need to see HOPE, and I wrote that for them.
“Let it go,” my husband said. “Just let it go.”
He cannot possibly understand the level of hurt Walter inflicted on me. He can’t. Chalk it up to the men in Hollywood being Weinsteinesque.
They aren’t the only men in the world.
I’m still in a bad mood, and we are a summer past last year.
Good thing I have WordPress, huh?
I grew up on the finest films that ever came out of Hollywood. In fact both my uncle Spencer Crilly and my dad Don Brown were both filmmakers. Yeah, they were. You can see pictures of both of them over in FB. Heart of Clouds is a charmer of a story about two kids on a beach, one summer, like the kind of childhood I had, which was sweet and full of good people. I set the place as Summerland, here in California, and so in the book when I refer to “the village” that is the setting for the location.
End scene from the film Rachel, Rachel is here:
Here is the film Effect of Gamma Rays on Man in the Moon Marigolds
(who can go back and even see the notes in my old blog from the years I wrote it, in Nanowrimo)
C.S. Lewis came to me in a dream the last few days of the writing of the novel. It was fab. As I wrote the scenes for the book I had favorite actors in mind for the parts. But there are lots of actors and people in Hollywood who can play them, no? So what I write are called character studies. Those are the kind of classic films about people my generation grew up on.
Who were the actors I had in mind as i wrote the book?
One of them lives here in town. Jeff Bridges. I had the part of Grandpa Jess in mind for him because when I was a little girl, just a teen, I saw one of my favorite films on earth, “The Last Picture Show.” Here it is from youtube:
I have seen nearly every film Jeff Bridges ever made. I wanted to write parts that can win an OSCAR. Walter, my teacher WON THE HUMANITAS PRIZE. It matters. But the really big part in the film goes to the character Mr. Honeygarten, because both these characters are seminal in the story. I was just a kid in High School here in Santa Barbara when I saw The Last Picture Show. I wanted the part of Mr. Honeygarten to go to Robert Duvall. These are two actors that I love, for all the years they have been in film. Both these guys are BELOVED. In fact last night on TCM I watched Duvall in Altman’s MASH. I never saw that as a kid, wow. It was on TV, but what a film. Altman’s “Short Cuts” is one of my all time favorites. So, what the kids are watching in 2020 does not have the innocent beauty of stories like we grew up on, or even films we saw. As kids we grew up on a very different Disney.
I went to school with the Bottoms Boys. In this film. I saw it the year it was made on the big, big screen. What a film. It just so happens I grew up in this town, where SBIFF is. So here is Jeff Bridges a few years ago. Walter should have taken me seriously.
Look what Jeff Bridges is up to!
The character of Grandpa Jess plays a stringed instrument. Check it out!
I have much to say about work in America, and the very most to say about American Newspapers, like say the one I spent 20 years working for. You will never guess who owned it, and this won’t be genre by a long shot for me.
I seem to have many people from China reading my blog. Well since you don’t like what Disney did with Mulan perhaps you might like my Heart of Clouds better. Personally I grew up on the original Walt Disney and all the great films that came out of Hollywood at that time, saw when Disney had built the original Disneyland here in California.
So Nanowrimo is on the horizon once again and it helps to have deadlines, like we used to in the newspaper industry. I’ll just give you a sneak peak about what it’s been like in American companies, no? In this little shorty I wrote once called Human Resources. It’s at my old blog, and I can’t believe I wrote that back in 2009. I did. https://valentinebonnaire.com/2009/03/09/human-resources-a-short-story/
That is where I will begin the book, and we’ll just go from there. What it will be about is how women were treated by corporations here in America, in the years 1981 to 2001. Many of the characters you are about to meet have died, so when you see them as characters, they will be UNIVERSAL as writers like myself grew up on the finest Literary writers there are.
Do universal people share universal traits?
Oh hell, yes.
You know it.
Anyway, I’m sick of the selfish greedy bastard who owns the multibillionaire “outlet” that sells books so I didn’t put my Heart of Clouds anyplace near him. NOPE. You can buy a copy of it here and learn something of American life for yourselves.
$3.99 in American dollars is 6.84 in your yuan. That seems right.
Did I tell you that one of my bosses sold the printing press we had to China in the late 80’s?
It seems to me we all saw Tianamen Square on TV in those years.
The unexpected magic yesterday of being down on Summerland beach. The last time I was there was at this time last year, after Walter Davis, my screenwriting teacher at the SB Writers Conference passed. Two writers who were important to me passed last year, he and Kate Braverman.
The last thing Walter ever said to me, was, “Let’s go to France.”
I spent a great deal of time last year at the end of summer on the beach there, with the driftwood structures, as those are a main theme in the book I have written for children. Well guess what? I met the artist on those, and is there ever a fantastic one there now.
Funny how life works, the passage of one year. The Conference wasn’t on this year because of the Covid.
I feel better in Summerland.
So Odin and I went, after a whole year almost, at Sunset. Today I am taking the book down to them, to see what they think of the themes. It is great to meet people like that, in such a sacred, sacred place to me. Most of my location shots last year were down in that area all the way to Loon point.
It was written to go to film and in scenes. I may just write that right here in WordPress, like I did the play before the Conference last year. I took a short story and simply converted it over into a play. From Walter I learned to write character studies, as that is what he did, and my book was an answer piece to his film “Do You Remember Love.”
Well, I know those guys I met on the beach are going to love it, because it is the local childhood I wrote that exists here. My heart went into that book, and all my training as a therapist, as well. The thing is Walter didn’t even care. Well? I may put that book for sale right here in WordPress I am so angry that he couldn’t even bother to get back to me. My opinion of Hollywood isn’t that great. Anyway, my best year at the Conference was a few years ago when I got to meet Janet Fitch who studied with Kate Braverman. Her “White Oleander” went to film and is one of the classics.
There is more to life than crochet, perhaps. Or anger. Seeing that driftwood structure made my day yesterday, it really did. I shot the cover for the book right off the beach there.
I said, “You can design Devlin’s hut. My god look what you have built here.”
I asked him if he did the ones last year and he had.
How incredible is that?
On the crochet front I am working on something called the Fruit Garden CAL that reminds me of Brideshead Revisited, a series I loved very much once, back in college years. The character of Sebastian and his Teddy. I love Waugh and other English writers. Always have. CS Lewis came to me in a dream that last few pages of my book.
All the pix of what I saw on the beach last year are over in FB and I’m not. I’m giving it a wide berth. The other day an old friend called and said the rumor on FB was that I was dead. Not yet.
Here is some crochet. I have not done things like this since I was 13 with my best friend, not kidding. I had to work in corporate hell, and maybe the next book will be about the newspaper years and what it was like for women on the job. Today is going to be fun.
If this isn’t the most gorgeous design what is?
I didn’t have one of her kits, with her colors, drat.
I am going to finish this, yep.
I plan to.
Hope all of you are well. This virus thing is so hard on us. To be at the empty beach yesterday was fabulous, and Odin my dog loves that beach.
So the fantastic first package of yarn arrived yesterday, bursting with Stylecraft and the Janie Crow colors to make her design for The Fruit Garden CAL. I joined Ravelry a few days ago, am Adrienne101 there. It amazes me that all the designers from around the world that I had been looking at in Youtube are in there. Crocheting sort of saved me during the last two years. I’m not sure how that worked exactly, but it did.
Anyway, it had been years and years and years since I picked up any yarn or thread to do anything. I practiced and practiced by watching videos of all kinds of women and people around the world in all of their different languages.
This morning I thought, wow, you know? I did this instead of writing. But writers do many things if the words aren’t there. They will be again. Walter’s death really was heavy for me at last year’s conference. I learned much from him about writing scenes. It’s not that much different from crochet. So my best friend and I at 13. That is in my memoir. We started off crocheting to escape in those years. We were escaping everything, I expect. You are on such a cusp at 13, you know? So this is a chapter called “Strings” https://valentinebonnaire.com/2010/12/29/strings-from-memoir-whitegirrrl-short-chapter/ that I was working on in 2010 – that whole book needs an edit, ooof. Some of the chapters make me cry they are so hard to look back on.
Anyway, the two of us would go downtown to a place called The Yarn Mart in those years. We would wander through, after school. It’s long gone now. But I love to get lost with yarn and fabrics. It takes me so far back I’m practically in childhood, as in “FUN” so this morning I finished off a little heart by a South African designer called Jen Tyler.
So, one of the boxes of the new yarn arrived, yesterday!
OMG. It puts the Big Box yarn I had to shame. I think this yarn and I are going to be beloved friends.
Check it out!
That’s the little Forget-Me-Not flower from the Fruit Garden CAL. My best friend Pam at 13 grew up loving the Pre-Raphaelites. Funny, this pattern – the colors.
Her grandmother had made her a classic blanket, that was in her room when we were so little. I started one of those blankets where you keep going around and around the square, you know?
Well, who knew that I was going to grow up and attempt something as gorgeous as what Janie Crow has designed. Neither my mother or my grandmother did anything like this. I did hear that my Irish great grandmother used to make lace, but I have never seen it.
“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”
― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden“
The night was so dark it seemed all the light was gone, except for the little moon like a lantern that hung in a small corner of the sky. Everything was gone. Every last dream.
It was on nights like this that Francoise felt she had lost all ability to cope. She took a sip of the brandy Pierre had loved. Sleep was impossible. If only Pierre were with me, I’d feel safe, she thought. He was gone. He was gone in the way that death takes all things that we love eventually. In life the moon is the only constant thing, or the sun, or the tides on the sea, or the waves of grass that glint and shimmer. The songs of birds, the flowers pushing up and open from the dank earth. All things return to this in the end, like the great hum or the great silence as the clock ticks round and round.
Courage, she thought. I will need courage to go on, in this darkness.
Little did she know that it would be the face of a child that would give her that.
Abigail LeNotre was the most curious child Francoise had ever seen. She was only eight, and she was in a part of life that Francoise had long forgotten. The part where everything is still to be discovered and learned. The part where magic still exists. Francoise was in her eightieth year, and you can imagine all that she had seen and known of life by that time.
Francoise had forgotten about fairies. Or perhaps she had forgotten the time she had known about them as a child, herself. It’s just that she hadn’t thought of them in so very long. The brandy calmed her. In the morning she would have to begin the process of dealing with all of Pierre’s things. The funeral was past. His garden had died. These were things of the adult world, not the world of Abigail.
It seemed to Francoise that her heart was as fragile as a petal in the way that time and love soften one. All of the things that she and Pierre had done together. Memories across years of time. Abigail hadn’t known loneliness yet. But she was lonely.
“My parents are allergic to animals,” she had said to Francoise, over the garden gate.