My screenplay

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It doesn't matter if you're good. Just write. And thart's thew only way you can improve. And it doesn't hurt to dream

Interesting premise.

My take on it- you can be given superhuman powers and a god/goddess like bod- but still be crippled by a wounded soul- and feel not good enough.

It strikes me as a drama, but it could be comedy as well.

Work on it.

Perhaps you should work backwords. How would you resolve the story?

Whether or not it's got a chance, I think it's f*n awesome.

You sent me a message and was curious for my thoughts on your story... My conclusion is mixed. You have some interesting concepts here....

PROS:
- genetic engineering, and background of the corporation behind it.
- theme of redesigning a human and how that changes the core of who one is.
- James Holden sounds like an interesting character with potential... work on his background...

CONS:
- Forgive me for saying this, but Eva's character needs some realism.
- introduction... the last 2/3rds of the movie/show have great potential, but the 1st 3rd appears empty on the surface. You actually need to simplify the beginning... I would even suggest focusing on one event in Eva's life that acts as the motivation.


If you are having writer's block been there done that, and I hate it. I've written enough to find a method of writing and telling stories that 99% of the time guarantees I'll never have writer's block. I wrote an essay a while back which I'll post it (here). I hope you find it helpful.

Well nothing beats credibility like these two things...
1) life experience
2) research, research, research

I can believe you're on the right track with insomnia... lol here's a true life experience of my own which you might find helpful as an example....

I moved out to Los Angeles after graduating from film college. The fifth month of living there I started having terrible insomnia as a result of not being able to get a job, troubles with my family, and loneliness (friends and romance). Money was an issue and I even went hungry a few times before having to rely on a food stamp program so that I could eat. This continued for two more months, and life only got worse. When my cousin was having a wedding in New York and I was invited I welcomed both the vacation and chance to see my family. It was good for the brief two days. I reconnected with my parents, and was very sad that I would have to leave them once more and head back to the hell hole of my life in LA. That night I went to bed with the insomnia consistently reminding me of tomorrow's departure. I am not entirely sure what happened after that, but I never suspected that I would never see LA again. Screams twisted through out my thoughts, and helping hands blurred in front of my out of focus eyes. I was lost for what seamed like a drunk man's minute. When I gathered my entire mental faculties I had come to the full realization that I was now sitting in a hospital. My mother told me the horrifying experience of having seen her son foaming at the mouth and lie on the floor unconscious. Apparently the insomnia and stress in my life had triggered an epileptic seizure. In an instant I had fallen to the ground with enough force to break my right arm. I realized that we can't control everything... if I had fallen at a different angel it would have been my neck that broke. In the moment I thought it was the worst thing that had ever happened to me and that I had reached a new low in my life. It was within the following hour that my thoughts turned. I came to believe that I needed to drastically RE-IMAGINE my life. I never went back to LA. Instead I moved to Toronto with a new passion for life and for my own abilities. I realized life is too short and delicate to waste time doubting ones self or live in harsh conditions wishing for a better tomorrow. Some how I've changed for the better....

... lol, does that help.

You know, if there is one thing that helps me visualize my screenplay, it's music. For example, in the scene in which Eva begins to slip between consciousness/unconsciousness following her mental breakdown, Pink Floyd's "Comfortably Numb" starts playing. When applied to the scene, it just makes me think about the amount of psychological and physical torment Eva's been put through.

I've finally got around to writing a decent introduction. Here it is:

FADE IN:

INT. BEDROOM, EARLY MORNING

The ceiling fan does its work with breakneck speed. Below it is a large, comfy-looking bed with white sheets. Underneath those sheets is a girl, sleeping. She is eighteen years old, with short, dark red hair and creamy white skin. Her eyes slowly open, revealing them to be brown. Her name is EVA PARKER.

Her eyes turn to her right, and subsequently she turns over. Vibrant rays are shining through the plastic blinds of her window. She gets up, and walks toward them, naked. Eva slightly lifts up one of the blinds with her index finger. She peers through. Neon from buildings across the street is burning like a manmade sun, and headlights come and go. She quickly drops it for obvious reasons.

Curious at what the time is, she turns around and gazes at the digital clock on her end table. It reads 3:00 AM. Not again, she thinks to herself.

CUT TO:

INT. KITCHEN, EARLY MORNING

Eva sits at a round table. In front of her is a glass of milk and a note scribbled on loose-leaf notebook paper. Taking a sip from the glass, she bobs her apple. The milk’s going sour. Eva could tell. It has a bland taste, like that of a decaying orange. She eyes the letter and picks it up with her right hand. She reads aloud the contents:

EVA: “Gone to L.A. See you in a few weeks! - Mom”

Los Angeles. Certainly no better than here, in the Windy City, Eva thinks. This is the first time I have the house to myself, and I’m already feeling empty inside.

INT. BEDROOM, MORNING

Eva gets dressed for her daily education. After donning her jeans and white t-shirt, she slides on her wristwatch and olive drab coat. Eva wonders why she is wearing it today; the weather report said it was going to be in the lower 70’s. Oh, well.

CUT TO:
INT. GARAGE

We are in utter darkness. The motion-detecting garage door begins to open. Light shines upon Eva’s preferred means of transportation: a large, white motorcycle. She walks toward it, her hand caressing its smooth exterior.

I hit a snag on the screenplay again. I have to rewrite the introduction a bit to make the scenes longer, and I don't know what the next scene will be. I had this idea of showing Eva riding her motorcycle through the streets of Chicago on the way to school, contemplating how rough the city is nowadays, but I think that's so cliched that you could hear Wang Chung's "To Live and Die in L.A." playing on the soundtrack.

I'm debating whether I should have Eva narrate the story. She would be musing philosophically on the events as they occur, but I don't want to give away her thoughts to the audience as if they were a herd of idiots (which they probably are). In my opinion, the screenplay would be better off without it.

Recently downloaded Celtx. Now I'm stuck on a scene in which Eva gets a nagging from her English teacher for slacking in class (chalk it up to her insomnia). I just can't come up with good dialogue to flow out of the character's mouths. So far, the screenplay has been "silent". My psychologist told me to just write the scenes first, but I think that's against the usual method of creating a screenplay. My dad has told me a million times that I should just write, no matter how awful the result is, and I'm not falling for that. I don't want to end up being a hack writer.

The concept is good.
And your father's advice was good. You write whatever crap you have to to get the story laid down. Then and not before, you start editing. Also, know that you have no choice in music, director, or casting. You might suggest, but good luck with that.
Consider your first draft an outline. Also consider that you don't have to be any good at this stage in your life. And even if what you wrote were brilliant, you would still hate it because you wrote it. It is a wretched stage of life, but it does pass.
Your desire for instant perfection is cursing your writing.