On the day of her disappearance, all they found of Janie was her favorite necklace. Five hundred twenty-eight days later, Karen’s life still revolves around a singular purpose — finding her daughter.
Watch this. Do it now. Watch it until it make sense. Implement. Repeat.
Fiction written from the underbelly of a writer’s deepest fears tends to be an agonizing process. And that’s exactly what I did.
None felt the hammer of Stalin’s dictatorial fist as firmly as I, Svetlana, his only daughter.
Up next: Round 2 of the NYCMidnight Short Screenplay competition.
For a week, I paused. For a week, I questioned everything.
I already went all blah blah on this the other day, so without further philosophical waxing, here is my first-ever screenplay… Two Percent