Screenwriting
Will Roane writes many things, but mostly screenplays. Here are some of these those things.
$400
Screenplay, Comedy, 16 pages
“Worth Every Penny.”
A southern belle in the big city gets a little more than her outrageous price for illegally renting out a lavish apartment (that doesn’t belong to her) to a clueless Frenchman on the Fourth of July. Tell you what, the fireworks ain’t the only thing that goes “Boom!”
This script won Best New York Short Screenplay at the New York Screenwriting Awards. Request your very own free digital copy of the thrilling, hilarious $400 by simply emailing me!
Piano Fulla Money
Screenplay, Drama, 90 pages
“It’s Out There.”
Hampton, an angry, bitter old piano mover teaches the trade to Jim, his trainee, an aspiring pianist. As generations clash, each man grapples with choices to make about their lives inside and outside of the job.
This script won an Honorable Mention at the 2023 New York Screenwriting Awards. Request your very own free digital copy of Piano Fulla Money by simply emailing me!
Pandemic Post
“Walt Disney’s Fun-Time Carousel”
Short Story
Children, there once was a man. A man named Walt Disney. After graduating from school and working a few odd jobs, Walt had just enough money to buy just one ride: a carousel. His very first carousel.
“I’ve sold many carousels,” said the salesman. “Too many.”
Walt worried not. “I’ll eschew equine ubiquity,” he said, “For all the animals of God.”
Walt assembled his carousel near Delray Beach, Florida, crafting all the animals of the world from solid blocks of wood, one by one. As he worked, he named each and every animal, and his heart filled with love as his hands sanded his creations smooth and painted them pretty.
Walt placed his favorite animal, the lion, next to his second favorite, the grizzly bear. To the lion, he gave no obvious prey, but Walt meticulously carved a great big salmon mid-flail in the bear’s gaping jaws.
Just as he selected a fine-pointed brush from his satchel to touch up the tips of Douglas the grizzly bear’s curled claws, he suddenly realized he could leverage this carousel into four-score more. “They’ll only depart my carousel to arrive at another,” Walt whispered into Douglas’s gleaming amber eyes.
Walt opened his carousel to widespread acclaim. The crowds came flocking. The newspapers raved. Walt Disney’s Fun-Time Carousel quickly became the most successful carousel in not only Delray Beach, but the entire nation, with lines for miles along Walt’s perfectly manicured white-picket-fence, which penned in all those spinning, snarling animals.
As the sun finally set, the last squealing children finished their go-arounds while their parents bought them expensive Walt Disney’s Fun-Time Carousel T-shirts, souvenir cups, and tabletop versions of the most popular of the various beasts.
“Thank you,” Walt said. “No, thank you,” they gratefully replied.
His pockets heavy, Walt strode to the conductor's box, admiring his knobs and levers, and shut off the lights. Weary, Walt was about to jump down off the carousel platform and begin the journey home when he spotted the lion, and smiled.
“I haven’t named you yet, and what’s more, I forgot to ride my own carousel,” Walt said to the huge feline, his long fangs frozen bare, his mighty roar ever silent.
“Tomorrow, I will.”
As he journeyed home, he longed for a car, but remember, children, Walt was at the beginning, just like you and me. He’d had no money for a car before; he’d saved only for his carousel. Now that his pockets jangled, he wished there was a dealership open, but all the automobile salesmen in Delray Beach, and even the surrounding towns of Boynton and Boca Raton, had already gone to bed. So Walt walked home, all twenty miles, one last time.
“I wonder what sort of car I will buy tomorrow?” Walt wondered aloud.
In the dark of the next morning, Walt oiled the machinery, and checked all the little light bulbs, and squeegeed all the mirrors. When the first patron came along, a boy, alone, Walt jumped down from the platform to greet him.
“You’re early, aren’t you?” Walt said. “Hoping to catch some worms?”
“I’ve no money,” said the boy. “But may I ride your carousel?”
Walt’s smile faded, and he slowly shook his head at the boy’s imploring eyes.
“No.”
Walt sat down on the edge of the still carousel and watched the boy retreat sadly.
“Nothing can be done. This is a business,” Walt said to himself. “Not a charity.”
Just then, the sun peeked over the horizon, and Walt stood up. He breathed deep the cool air, strode to the conductor's box, and with the flip of a switch, the music played, the lights twinkled, and Walt Disney’s Fun-Time Carousel opened for its second day of business.
Soon enough, parents arrived with children, and the carousel (not to mention Walt’s pockets) began to fill quickly. Walt squinted as he scanned the horizon. He couldn’t see the end of the line of parents, holding their little children’s hands.
“Spin us around,” cried the children. “Around and around and around!”
When all the children were on their chosen animals, and their parents in place along the white-picket-fence, Walt stepped into the conductor's box to activate the magic of Walt Disney’s Fun-Time Carousel. As the world began to spin, he exited the booth to carefully make his way among the rotating menagerie to the lion, which he was calling “Leo” in his head for now, though he knew that name to be way too on the nose. Amid the delighted screams of the children, no one heard Walt congratulate himself.
“You’ve done it, Walt. You’ve done it.”
But when Walt came to the lion, he found its back occupied, not by a paying customer, but by the little boy from before.
“Little boy,” Walt said, “Where are your parents?”
The boy replied only by hugging the wooden mane tighter, and for the first time in the story, Walt’s patience began to wear.
“Little boy,” Walt said again, “That lion happens to be my favorite of all the animals in my carousel, and I forgot to take a ride yesterday. Would you please let me take my place upon the lion?”
“No,” said the boy.
“You could ride on this grizzly bear here,” Walt said, “See? His name is Douglas, and he’s caught a fish.”
“He killed that fish,” said the boy, quietly.
“Well,” reasoned Walt, “It is just a fish. There are many, many fish. He only killed one fish. One fish doesn’t matter very much.”
“I don’t think so,” replied the boy.
“Well,” insisted Walt, “You haven’t paid to ride my carousel, little boy, so you’re lucky I am offering you a ride on a different animal, instead of throwing you off.”
“No,” repeated the boy.
“I’ll make you a deal,” offered Walt, “After this go-around, I’ll show you how the conductor's box works, how I control the carousel. How about that?”
After a moment, the boy replied “I already know how the carousel works.”
At this recalcitrance, Walt decided he no longer wanted to ride the lion, no longer wanted to ride the carousel. Not on this go-around, at least. Not next to this little boy, whether on the lion or not. Turning his heel, Walt instead huffed back to the conductor's box, swaying slightly with the turning of the carousel.
“I’ll show that little boy,” Walt muttered, “I’ll shut this carousel down right now.”
But when Walt arrived in the conductor's box, he found he could not pull the levers. He discovered he could not turn the knobs. Worried, he tried to open the door to get out, to check the pulleys and pistons. But he found he could not throw the latch.
Walt stroked his chin, and wondered whether the carousel’s warranty had run out. Soon enough, he noticed that the delighted screams of the children had ceased, and out of the little window above the control panel, he could see that they were all clutching tightly to their animals now, just as the little boy had done. Walt could dimly hear their desperate pleas:
“Let us off! Let us off! Let us off!”
Then, he heard, muffled, the sound of the loudspeaker. Glancing over at his microphone, he saw the little button was pressed, the little light had turned red. But Walt spoke not, for he was beginning to fill with dread.
“Attention,” Walt’s voice boomed as the carousel spun faster and faster, “I have decided on a new policy for my carousel. You must each surrender all your money. When you have gathered the funds, I will surrender your children back to you.”
Along Walt’s picket fence, the parents rummaged around in their pockets, searching for the exit price. One frantic parent dumped a gunny sack out, pummeling another parents’ feet with potatoes. All the while, Walt Disney’s Fun-Time Carousel kept on spinning.
Walt, for his part, pleaded with the door to open, begged the levers and knobs to respond to him. “Why, God? Why? Why?” he cried.
The parents’ cooperation was swift, their resolve singular. They passed around the gunny sack, and it bulged with tender. Then, the frantic parent grasped the sack by its neck, and with three heavy spins, gathered the momentum to toss it onto the platform.
Walt felt the heavy thud, and sighed with relief when he felt the wind-down of the carousel’s motor. He thanked God as the machine ground to a halt.
The children fled, crying, into the outstretched arms of their parents, receiving kiss on top of kiss and hug on top of hug. Walt did not leave the conductor’s box. He hid in shame, hoping everyone would leave, but the little boy, atop Walt’s lion, did not budge.
There, in the silence, both waited. All who had been waiting in line left, sickened at the thought of putting their children on Walt’s carousel. The sun went down, and the little boy remained.
“Why won’t he leave?” Walt asked himself.
With a gulp, Walt turned the lock of the conductor’s box and stepped out. He crept up to the little boy atop his lion.
“Why won’t you leave?” he pleaded.
“I won’t leave until you pay me,” said the little boy.
Looking down, Walt realized his hand now grasped the neck of the gunny sack. He gave it a tug. It was too heavy to lift.
“It doesn’t work like that,” Walt said. “You leave now!”
“No,” said the little boy.
Suddenly, Walt didn’t want to be on his carousel anymore.
“Well, how much do you want?” said Walt.
“All of it.”
At this, the carousel began to spin faster and faster, and Walt let go of the gunny sack as he sank onto Douglas the grizzly bear. The little boy dismounted Walt’s lion, and glided over to Walt. Leaning down, just before he disappeared with the money into the balmy Florida evening air, his tiny voice whispered in Walt’s ear.
“You get to ride the lion now.”
“Walt Disney’’s Fun-Time Carousel” — a short story published March 2020 by Pandemic Post.
Spork Press
In 2010, Spork Press, an independent literary press based in Tucson, Arizona, published two poems of his online. You may find them archived here.