From Free Lance Writer:
"A middle aged man sits be side central park writing on his lap top. He works from a park bench where he is surrounded by bound and ready to sell stories and scripts.
His attire suggests a preference for loose comfortable clothing. His ball cap reads, FLW. A sign stuck to the bench reads ‘Tales for Sale’.
The documents around him are bound in clear fronted binders which display a title page. Titles such as, ‘A Dangerous Island’, ‘The Ladies of Gaisler Road’, ‘New York Stories #1’ and ‘#2’ are within reach. A back pack containing more copies of each is below.
He thinks and writes, and he writes and thinks, and he writes. Occasionally rises to walk around. He talks to himself and drinks water. He watches people pass, but he stares past them lost in thought long after they have left his field of vision.
A young lady wishes to disturb his routine.
Jazz
Sir?
TK
Yep?
Jazz
Are these your works? Are you Mr. Wallace?
TK
The one and only, I hope,
Jazz
You hope?
TK
Yep, I've been wearing this skin and have been for years. If I'm not me, I don't know who I am.
Jazz
Ah yes, well, uh, very good, ah, very funny.
(She pauses, picks up a copy and reads)
New York Stories # 1
TK
That's a good one. Three short sagas; ‘A Baseball Story’, ‘Guerrilla Croquet’, and ‘Gambling On Me’. All native New York stories.
Jazz
How much are you asking?
TK
Just 15 dollars. And it comes with a $5.00 rebate.
Jazz
A rebate, on short stories?
TK
Sure, why not? If you enjoy reading them and want to read more, just bring that copy back to me and I’ll sell you the next one for only $10.00.
Jazz
Well, okay. What if I like it?
TK
If that’s the case, you’ll probably want an autographed copy, for only $5.00.
Jazz
So now that’s $20.00. You asking $5.00 for signing your work?
TK
My young and ambitious lady, let me point out that you are buying an original printing of an un-proofed manuscript, prior to mass publication, signed by the author. If that’s not worth $20.00, then you wouldn’t know literary value if it sat on you.
(She looks skeptical by lifting one eye brow but opens her bag and pulls out a money fold. She peels off three 5 dollar bills and hands them over)
TK
I thank you miss. I hope you enjoy your park bench.
(As she opens the cover and begins to read, the author returns to his work. On the small lap top screen we see)
“Lance has been imprisoned for 35 years by his own lack of imagination and self confidence.
He has tried to escape many times only to find his efforts thwarted and dragged back to confinement.
Once he was out and about for almost six months. But one day he was seen and then seized.
Only his personal courage and a slowly developing sense of self worth have helped him stay afloat.
Today starts the rest of his story. The story of how a man can break the bonds that bind him.”
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
(He is known to other locals. He knows most others by name, or a nickname. A shambling man lopes along, stopping short and announces.)
Loper
Hey you, writer man. I see you!
TK
Hey there Loper man. I see you too.
(The shambling man lopes along with a wave of thanks. Celia is stands by and watches)
Celia
He just wanted to be seen. That was nice of you.
TK
Nice don't cost nothin’. If he can see me, I can see him.
Celia
I have a thing for you.
TK
Hallelujah, Celia I feel the same way too. I was just waiting on you-“
Celia
Hold it right there stud. We’ve bounced that ball before.
(She pulls out a manuscript. He looks at it, and looks at her.)
TK
I like the metaphor. I thought we shot and scored.
Celia
Tru Dat. About this thing here.
(She pauses, and looks at the manuscript, then holds it out to him,)
Sign it please.
(When his breath comes back, he takes the script and opens the cover.)
TK
Got a pen?
(She hands him one and a five dollar bill. He ball caps the bill and signs the title page. As he hands the book back she hands him another twenty.)
Celia
I’d like a copy of # 2, signed, if you please.
(He whoops as he ball caps the bill and does a little dance. He take a copy of New York Stories # 2 from his back pack. He signs it and bows as it is given. Celia bows in acceptance and pockets the book.)
Gimmee a ring if you want to drop by, T. K.
(The author smiles and waves and then gazes on in a thought or in a memory that takes a few seconds to wear out. Then he returns to his bench, takes off the ball cap and extracts the bills. The cap goes on his head and the money goes in his pocket.)