While I’m certain dungeons like the one you’re describing do exist in your palace in Genovia, I highly doubt you’ve spent much time there. Mia, when I said describe a room, I meant describe a room you know well.
Is that what is attracting the rats that lurk in the shadowed corners, their pink noses quivering? The purpose for the bucket is made obvious by the stench emanating from it. The only furnishings are a narrow cot with a thin mattress made of striped ticking, and a bucket. The only light that filters in comes from the single tiny barred window near the ceiling. The four stone walls press narrowly against one another, glistening with moisture dripping from the low ceiling. Martinez see that by putting me in Intro to Creative Writing instead of Intermediate, where I belong, she is repressing my artistic growth? How is the blossom of my creativity ever going to be able to bloom if no one WATERS it?ĭescribe a room. Just the other day he and his parents had dinner with Steven Spielberg’s cousin. And he knows TONS of people in Hollywood. I know it’s going to be tricky finding financing and all, but J.P. Doesn’t she know I’ve moved on from describing rooms-and even from writing novels-to writing whole screenplays?īecause Lilly is totally right, there’s no other way I’m ever going to get a true representation of the story of my life onto the silver screen unless I write it myself. I mean, with my practice PSAT scores-which, okay, were about as low as they could be in math, but were GREAT in verbal-I should have tested into it.Īnd okay, the SATs don’t measure creativity (unless we’re supposed to believe that those people grading the essay part really read them).īut my verbal score alone should prove that I’m capable of describing a ROOM. You know what I can’t believe? I can’t believe she stuck me in Intro to Creative Writing. Describe a room? That is our first assignment? DESCRIBE A ROOM? Does she have any idea how long I’ve been describing rooms creatively? I mean, I’ve described rooms in SPACE-for instance, in my Battlestar Galactica fan fic about Starbuck and Apollo finally Doing It. Tuesday, September 7, Intro to Creative Writing You’re Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldo, Princess of Genovia. You’re not Mia Thermopolis anymore, honey. We can tell by MIA’s expression that her father is telling her something upsetting.
A flat-chested girl with upside-down-yield-sign-shaped hair (fourteen-year-old MIA THERMOPOLIS) is sitting at an ornately set table across from a bald man (her father, PRINCE PHILLIPE). INT/DAY-The Palm Court at the Plaza Hotel in New York City.
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