Pretty much the title. Scroll around and see all the stuff I write and draw and all that good stuff.
If you’d like, you can support me on Patreon!
If Patreon isn’t your thing, then you can support me through commissions, so hit me up if you want me to draw you up something nice! 🙂
Simple black and white drawing – $15
Waist up, colored – $30
we were in my apartment,
for once
a slow new york
morning.
Over three years since this dropped and I just now realize that I never posted this particular teaser here.
So, enjoy if you haven’t seen it yet, and read EPY if you haven’t read that either.
Alright, so I was going to write a short story in my usual style, you know, quick setup of a scenario or situation, two or three characters, then let the dialogue carry it through. As much as I love dialogue, I don’t want to get too rigid or worse, stale, so I’m trying this approach, since there’s something I’m trying to get at. I’ll write a short story about the short story I was going to write.
Title: What a Little Bit of Rain Can Do
Credit: written by
Author: Holly Verrit
The characters:
Julie – Asian, late twenties, Jim’s wife
Jim – White, mid-thirties, Julie’s husband
Waiter – A waiter
The scene:
Mario’s, a local Italian place.
The time:
This short one act play takes place closer to noon.
Right outside a public library, evening. Nancy standing by the entrance. Michael rushed out and bumped into Nancy.
“Oh.”
“Shit—”
“I’m—”
“No, that was my bad.”
Michael started to leave.
It’s up!
“I just want my cup of coffee.”
Three steps out of the firm’s office–already he was interrupted.
“Harvey–I was just in the area and I wanted to hear your thoughts on the–”
“Bullshit you were in the area, Ronnie. I saw you jump the second you saw me. You were waiting for me.”
“Be that as it may–”
“Fuck you.”
Harvey walked off. Ronnie chased after him.
a parody of advertisement, written by Amérique Nakamura
He looked out the window. He saw up to the horizon. He cursed under his breath.
“Shit. Shit.”
Belmondo rushed out the room to the hall down the steps and into the kitchen and to Mrs. Franz.
She sat at the kitchen table. Legs crossed across the dusty surface. Feet up. Book in her hands.
Belmondo breathed heavy and said, “Mrs. Franz.”
I just recently dropped By Taylor Phan, a Patreon exclusive (for now anyway), that I had written for the Killer Shorts Horror Short Screenplay Competition. It didn’t win, otherwise this would be a completely different post, but after a reread of the script, I felt like a short analysis/afterword could serve as a bit of insight.
