What Pages of Your Novel Might Look Like as a Screenplay
Chrissy Clarke sent me the opening pages of her current book, Grounded. What did I plan on doing with them? Well, I had this idea that I could show curious novelists what their novel might look like if it were adapted into a screenplay.
Now, of course, adaptation is a tricky thing. To make a novel work as a movie, screenwriters have to be thinking, “How does this work for screen?” That’s why they are called screenwritiers and not simply writers.
I often tell my students, “Close your eyes and imagine the scene on a screen. Now, write the words that best translate the scene that’s in your head. Screen first, words second.”
Screenwriters have to take significant liberties with the source material to make it work. They add, change, deal with “inner dialogue” and even cut. New scenes could be added. Favorite scenes from the book might need to be cut.
I will often hear people say, “I liked the book better than the movie.” But, in that scenario, that’s like saying, “What was the better book, the book of the movie?” Of course, the book is going to be a better book. In watching movies based on books, one must appreciate it for what it is… an adaptation. A movie, not really to be compared to anything else.
If someone did a straight adaptation, scene for scene, the movie would be REALLY long. There would also be really boring scenes where voiceover is doing a play-by-play of the character’s thoughts… typically a no-no in screenwriting.
With Chrissy’s Grounded, I’m going to try to capture the opening scene as best I can… and as close as I can. But if I were doing a true adaptation of the book, I’d have to read the whole thing. The opening of the movie might be very different from the opening of the book, depending on what I determined was a good starting place for a movie.
But, following, you’ll find her opening scenes and then my adaptation of those scenes.
From Chrissy Clarke’s Grounded:
As the wheels of the Cessna touched down on the tarmac, I cycled a natural breath for the first time in five minutes.
Just like butta. I heard the voice of veteran pilot Abraham Harris every time I took her out: ease up on the throttle, give it a skosh of power now, hit the rudder, don’t hit that rainbow, trust your gut. I never flew solo.
I said good day to my passengers, a four-pack of Korean businessmen back from schmoozing in the city. I got a lot of that type, out-of-town heavy hitters who wanted to arrive in style—and not waste time-is-money on the road.
After giving my baby a quick spit-shine inside and out, I hangered her, waved to Ray in the control tower, and jumped into my Dodge. Had an errand to run before a date with a client.
We met when I ferried him to a meeting. He’s in tech—and a whole lot of charming. When he asked me to make this the best day of his life, I couldn’t refuse.
Five minutes on the internet told me In Bloom was the premier florist in Shadow Bay and vicinity. We had such a kaleidoscope of flowers growing wild around my family home that I’d never purchased a bouquet. Hey, there’s a first time for everything.
The store was in the downtown corridor, home to book, metaphysical, and artisan gift shops that I patronized on occasion. I was addicted to the roasted coconut tea at The Tea Party, and my growing collection of crystals proved my penchant for Emerald Moon. I stroked the polished piece of larimar that called my right pants pocket home, as I approached my target.
The exterior was a glossy ad for the store, with floor-to-ceiling windows displaying country-chic décor overlaid with a plethora of living things. Everywhere I looked was lush growth, from waxy leaves the size of elephant ears to nestling-snake branches that wound in and around each other, flecked with fat buds.
The door jingled when I entered. I was making tracks to the sales counter, when I detoured to a wooden chest atop a distressed writing desk. To the left sat a vase of squat, purple crocuses and a sprawling ivy dominated the opposite side, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the round-topped box.
“I’ll be right with you,” said a man.
Honey-stained wood had been polished smooth. I inspected the edges, caressing its warm lines—not a nick or a burr—and the slats that comprised the surface had been invisibly joined, without even dimpled evidence of a nail. It wore a delicately-carved relief of sparrows hiding in a lush magnolia tree, just bursting into bloom. I stood, transfixed, wearing a goofy grin. It made me feel—
“What can I do for you?”
I jumped like a frog.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I turned and met the gaze of a man. He towered over me with windswept hair and eyes that made me press my lips together in concentration: equal parts serenity and mischief.
I gestured toward the box. “This is beautiful.”
“Glad you like it. It’s mine.”
My eyes raked over it. Magnificent. “You made this?” I longed to reach out and touch it again but felt self-conscious with him watching.
He shrugged. “Woodworking is a hobby of mine.” He looked away and back again. “Shall I leave you to browse?”
I glanced at my watch. “I’m here for a bouquet. No flower preference, whatever’s in season will be fine. I need something that says: You’re my world. Marry me.”
He gazed at me for a long moment, and when he smiled, my knees jellied. “Are you proposing?”
I barked laughter. “Me? God, no.”
His eyebrows rose. “Do you have a budget in mind?”
“Will a couple hundred do it?”
“That’ll do something quite impressive. Here, let me show you a few things.”
I followed him around the store, as he pointed out his recommendations: canary-yellow daffodils, thick-leafed tulips in solids and ombres, and camellia, round blooms composed of numerous gossamer layers.
I found my favorite: slender branches laden with creamy, thin-petaled flowers. He called them star magnolia.
He offered up a vase of lilacs, tiny clusters of four-leaf-clover flowers. They smelled so luscious that I wanted to rub against them, to transfer scent like a cat. I settled for burying my nose within. Delicious.
“Mmm, I love these.”
His hand brushed my arm as he reached past me, and my heart tap danced. My friend, Charles, is a florist. He lives near Eugene with two spoiled Himalayans and his boyfriend, Raoul. Maybe my gaydar was on the fritz, but I wasn’t getting that vibe from this guy.
Before we finished a round of the store, we considered wood anemones, prim roses, lilies of the valley, and peonies. When he asked for my top picks, I couldn’t choose—or recall the names of the ones that spoke to me.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to defer to you. I’m sure you’ll do it justice.”
He grinned. “Care to join me in the cooler? I’ll show you the color options we have.”
I laughed. He was charming, with an easy way about him that took me down a notch. How could I refuse?
“Lead the way.”
He made suggestions, and I approved or rejected each—mostly approved, frankly. They were all gorgeous, and he had a way of blending shape and texture, using contrast and complement to create something more than a bunch of flowers. When he was done, it was a work of art.
“Wow, this was a pleasant surprise. I came in for some flowers but got an experience.”
He beamed. “I aim to please.” He wrote a couple lines on a receipt book, old school. “Are you taking them with you or are we delivering?”
“I’ll take them.”
“Your name?” He gazed at me for a long moment, and I stopped breathing. His eyes were so pale, like a watercolor sky above the clouds on a rainy, spring day. “You know, for the receipt.”
I came out of the ether. “Right. Just A is fine.”
His mouth quirked. “The letter A?”
I went by Lark, the nickname coined by my dearly-departed uncle. Although I rarely revealed my real name, those gorgeous eyes, trained on me, compelled me to play nice.
“It’s Avalina, but I tire of spelling it—and being told it’s unusual.”
He searched my face. “It’s pretty; it suits you.” He wrote it down. “Address?”
“18799 Terminal Loop.”
As he stared, the left side of his mouth twitched before he gave me a little grin. “You live at the municipal airport?”
I snorted. “Oh, you know that address? I use it all the time; no one ever calls me on it.”
“I decorated for a wedding there last year, in the old hangar on the west side where they keep the World War II planes. Wide-open space, a blank canvas, and the industrial feel was softened by heaps of foliage and tulle. It turned out beautiful.”
“Hmm, I never heard. Well, I may as well live there. I work out of the airport. I’m a pilot.”
“Interesting. And the flowers are for work?”
“Yup. Brian Atchison is taking his girlfriend sightseeing over the Gulf Islands this afternoon. He’s planning to propose to the love of his life.”
His head tipped left. “Think she’ll say yes?”
I swallowed hard. How did a quick jaunt into a flower shop turn into nearly an hour of banter with a charismatic man who gardens and makes beauty out of a block of wood? I stared at the bouquet, all done up with a bow he prettily made from satin ribbon.
“How could she not? Look at these flowers.”
“I’m glad you like them.”
We said our goodbyes, and as I was making my exit, he said, “Avalina?”
I turned to look at him: dreamy eyes and a smile that warmed the back of my neck like the afternoon sun. “It was nice meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you around. I’m Sky.”
“Thanks for your help, Sky.” As I left, I couldn’t help but smile. The sky was just about my favorite thing in the world.
Screenplay Adaptation of Grounded’s opening:
EXT. SKY – DAY
Blue sky with some clouds. From behind a cloud, a Cessna airplane emerges, and banks into a descent.
EXT. RUNWAY – DAY
The runway of a small, municipal airport. The Cessna’s wheels touch down on the tarmac. The plane is handled well and lands smoothly.
INT. COCKPIT – DAY
AVALINA sits at the controls of the plane. Her brunette hair is pulled back into a ponytail. Attractive, she wears a jean jacket with a blouse underneath tucked into khaki pants.
ON THE CONTROL PANEL: A picture of Avalina with an older man with thinning gray hair. He wears a leather flight jacket and stands with his hand on her shoulder. A caption in cursive handwriting reads: “Abraham’s rare moment of smiling.”
BACK TO SCENE: Avalina looks at the picture and then turns toward the back of the plane, smiling herself.
EXT. PLANE – DAY
Avalina offers her arm to a Korean gentleman in business attire. He takes it and steps down onto the tarmac.
The head of another Korean business man emerges. Avalina offers her arm.
She looks at the cell phone in her hand.
ON SCREEN: A text: “You promised the best day of my life!”
BACK TO SCENE: Avalina smirks, slips the phone in her pocket, and offers her arm to a third business man.
INT. HANGAR – DAY
Avalina runs a cloth down the Cessna’s propeller, flips the cloth onto a worktable and then exits the building.
EXT. OUTSIDE HANGAR – DAY
Avalina jogs toward a pickup truck. She waves a salute toward the control tower.
EXT. FLOWER SHOP – DAY
A sign above the flower shop reads: In Bloom.
INT. FLOWER SHOP – DAY
The high-end shop is full of flowers, but Avalina stands staring at a ornately wood-worked box atop a writing desk.
She glances to her hand. It holds the turquoise of a larimar crystal. After a moment, she slides the crystal back into her pocket and looks at the woodwork again.
MAN
Like that? I do a little woodworking on
the side.
Startled, Avalina puts her hand to her chest.
MAN
Sorry. Quiet like a cat.
Avalina turns to a man with windswept hair and jolting green eyes towering over her.
AVALINA
It’s exquisite.
MAN
Thanks, but I’m guessing you didn’t
come in here looking for woodworking.
She shakes her head.
AVALINA
No. Actually, I need a bouquet. I leave
the arrangement to you… just needs to
imply: “You’re my world: Marry me.”
MAN
You proposing? Lucky guy.
She smiles, but shakes her head.
AVALINA
Me?
(laughs)
God, no. A client. Wants to propose
in the sky. Gave me two hundred to get
the flowers.
MAN
That will get him something pretty special.
I’ll get on it.
He turns from her. Avalina turns back toward the wood-worked box one last time before turning to follow him.
INT. FLOWER SHOP COOLER – DAY
The man and Avalina stand flanked by an array of flowers on the cooler shelves all around them.
The man holds a bunch of lilacs in his hand. Avalina touches the back of his hand and buries her face in the flowers.
AVALINA
Heaven.
Their eyes meet over the top of the flowers. Avalina smiles, but then looks away.
AVALINA
Smell great, but maybe a little ordinary.
(she points)
What about those?
MAN
Good eye. Star magnolia. That will round
out what we have.
Their eyes meet again. She lingers on his gaze, but is the first to look away.
INT. CHECKOUT – DAY
A beautiful bouquet sits on the counter.
MAN
Ok, no delivery, but I’ll need your
name… for the receipt.
AVALINA
Lark… or A. Just put A.
MAN
Uh oh… the Scarlett Letter. Do tell.
She smiles.
AVALINA
Fine. It’s Avalina. But don’t ask me
to spell it… or tell me it’s unusual.
He looks at her for a moment.
MAN
It’s pretty. It suits you.
(beat)
Address?
AVALINA
Huh? Oh… 18799 Terminal Loop.
He smiles.
MAN
That’s not your address. That’s the
airport.
She laughs.
AVALINA
Feels like I live there sometimes. I’m
a pilot.
He nods.
MAN
Oh, right… proposal in the sky.
(looks into her eyes)
Think she’ll say yes?
Her eyes lock on his.
AVALINA
How could she not?
(beat)
I mean, with a bouquet like that.
MAN
Glad you like them.
She nods.
AVALINA
I do. Surprisingly perfect.
She looks away.
INT. FLOWER SHOP – DAY
Holding the bouquet, Avalina pushes open the door to the shop.
MAN
Avalina?
She stops.
MAN
My name’s Sky. Maybe you’ll see me
around.
AVALINA
Pretty likely… Sky. Taking the client
up in the air this afternoon. Lots
of sky to see.
He laughs.
She looks at him one more time.
AVALINA
But seriously, thanks for the help.
SKY
Always aim to please.
She touches the outside of the pocket where she’d slid the crystal. Then, she lets the door close behind her.
The way it’s written, I’m assuming Sky will make an appearance again. If that’s not the case, this scene would have been much shorter.
There were challenges in adapting this. Avalina operates in “internal dialogue” quite a bit. Had to find ways to work things in…imply thoughts or memories. Some things got dropped. Some things got changed. The scene in the flower shop was shortened overall, but I think hit the major beats.
I’m not saying that’s how every screenwriter would adapt those pages… just my take.
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