We did it!

Thanks to everyone who had a hand in helping us bring home the prizes!  And also to each of you who has wished us well and supported us throughout this project.

It was a heck of a ride -- especially the drive home yesterday, which began at 5:00 a.m. from Providence and finally saw me cross the New Hampshire state border about 11:00 a.m.  Six hours to travel what normally takes me about, uh, er, much faster then that. (Can the state police give me a speeding ticket if I post how fast it usually takes me to drive that distance?)

Feel free to surf over to our Smoky Quartz blog to see the run down on all the prizes -- including the top one: "Best Public Service Announcement."  While our spot can't quite yet be seen on the web, it will begin airing in the Rhode Island market next week.  We'll post the link as soon as it's ready.

For an even more in-depth report of how the team came together, see the News Release at the NH Film & Television Office blog.

Cheers!

"Drag" a micro-fictionalized, recast excerpt of the screenplay adaptation PLOWING UP A SNAKE

"Drag" a micro-fictionalized, recast excerpt of the screenplay adaptation PLOWING UP A SNAKE 

"Drag" by Artist Lisa Rae Winant

Image used by permission of the Artist

11 x 17.5/oil on panel

It's an early-autumn day like any other in upstate New Hampshire: chilly, breezy, and fragrant.  Well, fragrant if you happen to enjoy the scent of wood smoke billowing from every chimney in the village.

"You don't smoke," Clay admonishes his cousin's widow.

"Not those stale, nasty cigarettes Hatch likes," Marjorie responds.  "But a smooth, carefully hand-rolled cigar..."  She pauses as she takes a drag, "...is like the gentle caress of an accomplished lover."

A corner of Clay's mouth rises, though in truth he's uncomfortable hearing a woman speak so bluntly, so seductively.  It is, after all, the mid 1950s and Clay's been a one-woman man in a small town all these years.  Until now.  But what’s adultery stacked up against the multiple murders that have recently plagued this sleepy hamlet?

He settles back into his chair and swallows his scotch--nearly choking on it.  As he struggles for air, he manages to sputter, "Soda...there's no soda in it."

"There's supposed to be soda in it?" Marjorie asks.

Clay wonders if she's hurt by his reaction.  Guessing she is, he says, "No, no.  Scotch this good doesn't need soda."  He sips gingerly the second time around.

And as he and Marjorie settle into their coy game, outside the razor-thin windows the first snow begins to fall, bringing with it an appearance of unearned innocence and silence echoing the eternal silence that has already frozen their river-bound valley town.

(A micro-fictionalized, recast excerpt of the screenplay PLOWING UP A SNAKE, an adaptation by Dana Biscotti Myskowski of Merle Drown's novel of the same name.)

"Make-Up" 
micro-fiction by dana biscotti myskowski

"Untitled" by Lisa Rae Winant, 28x12 oil on panel, used by permission of the artist.

The blood-red convertible was cold to the touch.  She managed a smile for the cameras, but it was all fake.  She’d just won this car on some silly game show her friend had dragged her to.  She wished she could see him now, but even squinting didn’t work, she couldn’t see five feet beyond the stage, the lights were so bright. 

She loved him.  She wondered if he knew.  Didn’t matter. He was gay from birth.  That’s probably why she loved him so. No complications. Well besides his frequent feminine-like mood swings.  He was probably nursing a wounded ego even now—hurt that she’d been called down to be a contestant instead of him. 

Her fingernail caught on the side mirror and snapped.  She looked at the jagged edge that instantly returned her to her first road trip across the country with GG, her great grandmother who drove despite being nearly legally blind. 

It began as a blissful journey.  She, then only fourteen, had already reached her adult height and, sporting a full double-D, looked every bit the part of a university co-ed.  She enjoyed being mistaken for a college student whenever she told others she was a freshman.  Wearing the logo of the college that held her small town together helped too.  People were so quick to assume, never mind the warnings not too. 

Somewhere on the journey GG nicked a goat that had escaped a farmer’s barnyard, sending them skittering to a jolted stop, one wheel dangling above the chasm of a drainage ditch.  While the goat head butted the car in anger—or perhaps glee, she was never sure which—she and GG assessed their own wounds: a scratch for GG where an extra key had scraped her thigh, and a broken fingernail for her when her hand hit the dash at an odd angle.  It seemed only natural that she should drive the rest of the way.  GG never drove again.

But when more than a thousand miles later she struck the child who raced into the road, dashing from behind a taco truck while she checked her mascara—damn thick-lash lying bastards—GG never moved so fast, scrambling into the driver’s seat before anyone arrived.  They attended the funeral and flew home again.  Took a cab between local stops.

She climbed into the new car now, only because the Host insisted she should, but she knew she’d never drive the bloody car off the lot.  Maybe she could sign it over to her friend to make amends.

(Note: Micro-fiction is an assignment this week for my Media Writing Class, which is why I am publishing this story I wrote for last year's New Hampshire Writers' Project Literary Idol Competition.  I landed the coveted top spot; that's right, New Hampshire: I am your Literary Idol.  Feel free to bow...tee hee.)

It's a Wrap!

More than 40 Actors joined us for our afternoon/evening shoot for the 7DayPSA Competition.  Thanks to all the patient actors, moms, dads, and chaperones!

And a HUGE thank you to our incredibly talented crew.  Many folks asked how long we'd all been working together; when I looked at the clock to answer __X__ hours, people were surprised.

Also thank you to the Boys and Girls Club of Concord, which is where we shot.  The folks there are incredibly friendly and generous.  And the gym was a perfect set.

While I'm handing out shout outs, I want to say hello to a previously anonymous blog follower:  Hey, Allison!  Glad to hear you're stopping by occasionally.  Looking forward to meeting you one of these days!

Okay...back to my paperwork and backseat editing here at Hatchling Studios.

Cheers!