Blog – Page 156 – Hannah Nicklin

Well this is just a couple of pages from the redraft I’m working on- it’s really messy, literally first draft standard, but I was quite pleased with this bit, I was stuck for half of yesterday and the beginning of today until I talked it over and thought about bringing in an antagonist, I have…. 55 pages, up from 32 and my target is 80, so only 25 more pages, and 10 of those will be more exposition in the already written second act so it’s going ok. ideally I wanted to have a draft finished today, for a bit of feedback tomorrow, and redrafting/posting the final script on Friday but I don’t know how many of my good friends can drop everything and read for a whole night… I’ve had lots of offers though and my sincerest thanks go to all the people supporting me! You’re all awesome… so yes, this section is about 15 minutes in, and apologies for the formatting, it looks perfect in the template I use, but funny on here.

(silence, after a while there is a roll of thunder, MELPOMENE looks around, confused)

angel: (groans) oh no…

melpomene: what?

angel: you don’t want to know

melpomene: what? Why not? What’s-

(footsteps can be heard)

ANGEL: it’s him

melpomene: who? (she looks around, and whilst looking left AZRAEL appears to the right, smartly dressed, pinstriped suit, black handkerchief, black shirt and tie, black, raven coloured wings and white and black polished shoes)

AZRAEL: Hallo sweet cheeks.

(MELPOMENE freezes and turns around)

melpomene: you did not just call me that

azrael: who said I was talking to you?

melpomene: who are you?

azrael: right back at you?

melpomene: what are you doing here?

azrael: I think I’m much more interested in why you are here. Someone who’s given up their wings consorting with a damned soul? Could be that maybe this might just slip this into my minus 5 hour report and then-

melpomene: you wouldn’t dare

azrael: and why wouldn’t I?

melpomene: archangels are such dicks

azrael: how do you know I’m an archangel?

melpomene: because you’re a dick.

azrael: now, now, there’s no need for that.

melpomene: and what on earth do you mean, ‘report’

angel: he’s been sent to keep a check on me

azrael: a masterly summation

melpomene: an archangel.

azrael: yep!

melpomene: but-

angel: he’s also, y’know, the angel of death

(Pause)

melpomene: you have to be kidding, they have the executioner trailing you?

azrael: have you heard the phrase ‘death was his constant companion’?

ANGEL: he’s meant to make sure I’m following the rules

melpomene: (open mouthed) that’s, unbelievable

azrael: (to ANGEL) aren’t you going to introduce me to your charming young friend?

melpomene: that’s absolutely outrageous

azrael: though if I was taking a guess I’d say she was a muse

melpomene: (Snaps out of her rage and hears AZRAEL) now what makes you say that?

azrael: (he leans towards her over ANGEL’s head) well I don’t know, female, feisty, thinks she knows it all, kind to small creatures (i.e. the ANGEL) all the hallmarks of an artistic nature

melpomene: you dick!

(She lunges at him, misses and runs around the back of the bench to catch him, he begins to run ‘round the other way, she chases him twice ‘round. The ANGEL sighs, stands and just as AZRAEL runs past a third time catches the back of his jacket, and then as MELPOMENE approaches, puts his hand out and stops her with his palm against her forehead. MELPOMENE and AZRAEL are panting)

angel: stop it. (a second or two, then the ANGEL lets got and sits down in the middle of the bench, slowly, MELPOMENE and AZRAEL sit either side)

AZRAEL: she started it

melpomene: real mature.

ANGEL: Angel of Death, Azrael, please meet Mel

azrael: Mel?

ANGEL: Melpomene

Azrael: I was right then

ANGEL: and she was right about you

azrael: ooh get you, little one

melpomene: don’t call him that.

azrael: what you going to do?

melpomene: something you’ll very much regret

azrael: you mean something you’ll regret

melpomene: I know what I meant.

(Silence)

angel: what do you want?

azrael: this is the last check up, before the judgement

melpomene: I thought you already had your trial?

azrael: he gets one last stand of defence… or y’know, he could find the boy, haha.

melpomene: I can’t believe you’re being so insensitive!

azrael: I’m doing my job, you’re not even supposed to be here.

angel: please don’t – (IE report her)

azrael: don’t worry; she’s not worth the waste of parchment.

Factual update whatsit…

So in news this week, I am to be published for a third time in a ‘zine accompanying the LadyFest Leicester goings on – 5th-7th October… I may also be running a playwriting workshop there depending on a few things- I’m waiting to be gotten back to about that. But if you’re in or around Leicester pop along to some of the events and support creative Leicestershire ladies! (And whilst there, pick up a ‘zine).

Also, I will be spending the majority of this week redrafting ‘Cloud’ as I emailed it to Box of Tricks Theatre Company in one of my many submission sprees and they’ve gotten back to me saying they liked it but they need things of about 80mins running time (Cloud is a one act two hander running at about 30mins). So I am promptly redrating! I sent them ‘2112’ (probably about an hour) to see if they were interested in that, but also said I’ll have a complete 80 min redraft of Cloud with them by Friday… so WOOO! Bring it on! I love having real deadlines and such.
In other news: there’s going to be a local bring and buy style art fair in the next village over! So I can spend the breaks from redrafting the play painting a few local scenes etc., and hopefully make a bit of money!

This was my original pitch for Cloud:

a sad boy, with blonde hair, sitting on a bench, looking at the ground, dangling a half finished Corona from the tips of his fingers, with wings, and a sigh… This is an Angel, he is on death row. (Not death in our terms, but the cleaving in two of the soul- soul death). He is imprisoned on earth for his crimes. He walks the earth in search of… hm.

This Angel’s crimes: This Angel fell in love with Icarus as he approached the heavens, as the gods (sic) melted his waxed wings. However, Icarus did not fall into the sea, and Heracles did not bury him on Ikaros. The Angel caught him. The gods, angry at the Angel’s interference with fate but not able to kill Icarus, (there are Rules) wiped Icarus’ memory and changed his place in time; they placed him in central Birmingham in 2006.

a sad boy, with blonde hair, sitting on a bench, looking at the ground, dangling a half finished Corona from the tips of his fingers, with wings, and a sigh. He cannot fly. A scruffy, slightly hung-over, youngish person with a round face and dirty blonde hair, sits down heavily next to him. There is a silence, the Angel resents him for interrupting his well cultivated despair. The person looks at his wings,

“you been to a fancy dress party then?”

I have been walking these streets… I don’t know how. My head is dragged down by this impenetrable melancholy. There was a second, infinitesimally finite, when he glanced my face with his hand. I play it over and over, killing it a little each time. It’s cold here… pervasive, but it just echoes my numbness, it is a weak copy. Quieter. At night, when I stand under a tree in the street light it looks like I’m underwater Maybe I should have let him fall. There’s no justice in this If I, if I ever see him again, I will never let him go.

Cuts to: A basement. A swinging light. The young person is gagged and bound to a chair, has swollen eyes. The gods always have to leave a get-out-clause; they have given the Angel 11 days to find Icarus, the only one who will see him for what he is, and to make him love him again. After all, who would look in Birmingham? This is the 11th day, there are 27 minutes left.

Go.

Excerpt

This week I will mostly be….