Me, Myself... Monologues, Part 2 (Bonus Sample)

Picking up on my last post about writer's block, it's also true that when I'm in a writing mood I write! So here's another sample monologue as a bonus.

Again, if you're looking for an original piece written specifically for you please contact me on rwhyde3.0@gmail.com to organise.

The Chair

There is a space across from me. An emptiness. An absence of something. No, not something… someone. An empty chair that sits there accusing me. It says, “you’re not good enough, you’re not worthy, you are damaged, you are less than.” Its silence screams a thousand barbs that I cannot shake, that I cannot banish from my psyche.

I want to shout at it. I want to yell and rage, kick and scream. Fill the space between us with my outrage, my disappointment, my sadness. It just stares back at me, unmoved, unmoving, cold and judgemental.

I try to imagine who else could be perched there - someone famous perhaps. A celebrity whose face everyone would recognise. They’d wonder why such an esteemed person was there with poor, anonymous me. Whisper excitedly as they wait for their overpriced lattes in ridiculous, napkin-wrapped glass. Ring their friends to say, “You won’t guess who I just saw” before taking a sneaky picture with their smartphone to prove the fact. All too soon our table would be crowded with well-wishers and autograph hunters.

The chair hasn’t moved. It remains resolutely unfilled and unimpressed.

Try as I might I can’t conjure a Star because that’s not what I want. Nor do I crave the company of astronauts or politicians; writers or inventors; reality show contestants or models. There’s only one person I wish was sitting there.

They may as well be on the Moon.

Sometimes I think she’s only a manifestation of my imagination. Like those childhood friends we occasionally manufacture in periods of solitude; who come out to play when there is no-one else to occupy our thoughts, our time… our dreams. They represent our most hoped for desires no matter how farfetched and crazy.

Yes, I am crazy. Why did I ever think she could be made real?

I want to yell and scream. But I know I won’t.

I want to slink away and put aside the humiliation and rejection. But I know I can’t.

I want to stay and fight for her. But I don’t know how. The Moon is an awfully long way away. And my mood is heavy and earth-bound.

The space where she should be mocks me. The message on my phone saying she won’t be coming cripples me. The casual glances of pity or disdain from strangers unravels me. I don’t know what to do. I am paralysed by confusion and doubt. And still the chair sits there empty.

I don’t hate you. I could never do that. But nor can I claim to understand you. Not in this moment. Not here and now. Not in front of this fucking chair.

© Richard Hyde, 2012

Me, Myself... Monologues

I often see actors on social media asking if anyone knows of good (contemporary) monologues for auditions or their show reel. Occasionally I even get asked if I can recommend scenes or monologues. As a writer, my response invariably includes:

"You could always have one written for you."

Yes, if you're looking for a good monologue I can write one specifically for you!

Here's the deal - for $120 I will write an original monologue of around 3 minutes in length based on:

- a scenario; or

- a theme; or

- a character type;

that you specify. PLUS I will also do one polish based on your feedback.

Please contact me on rwhyde3.0@gmail.com to organise.

Below is a sample monologue:

The Birdcage

I hate it when people ask how things are going. I can hear it in their voice, the faint disapproval, the condescending tone. They are waiting to hear that it’s all too hard, that I made a mistake, that I’m sorry. It doesn’t matter how tough things get, how desperate times are. I will never give them that satisfaction. Never.

I couldn’t wait to leave home. To do my own thing, to live life on my own terms. It was like someone had left the door open to a bird cage. I was free to explore the world outside the bars, the rules, all the restrictions. What a revelation! I flew all the way to the other side of the country. To find exciting new possibilities, a bright shiny future, a better me.

Or so I thought.

Now I know sometimes the bars are there to keep the predators out. The users, the posers, the people who take advantage. The guys who crush your dreams.

The ones who make you sell yourself to pay the rent. The clients who make you feel less than what you really are.

Their horrid breath, the sweat, the callous disregard.

I will never ever give them that satisfaction. No matter how tough things get. When they ask, I smile sweetly and say everything is fabulous, more than I ever could have hoped for. You’re the only one I dare reveal the truth to.

I wonder if anyone else can tell… if she can tell? Forever leaving messages, forever sending gift packs. Another newly knitted jumper. Never money. She says she’s proud of me. I wish I could say the same.

Then there’s the boy. He said he would follow me. Give up his job, his friends, his ambitions, all for me. There’s a time that used to make me smile. Now it terrifies me. He wouldn’t understand… the choices, the desperation… the guilt. 

I often dream of going home.

But the cage is always easier to flee than it is to return to.

© Richard Hyde, 2012

Another Show Reel scene ...

... and this one is probably my favourite in the writing of it. The brief was to keep it simple as the actress was inexperienced and quite young. So a no frills father-daughter scene that is still a little different in terms of subject matter. Directed by Mark DeFriest and Produced by Debbie Thoy.

Compare & Contrast

A while back, I wrote a few short scenes for Wizard Corporation's elite show reels for actors. Here is the one scene - Evaluation - interpreted in two different ways, the second of which I've only recently seen. Interesting the difference a change in the gender of a character makes ...