EMILY

NEXT SOLO SHOW IDEA: "B.P.K - Baptist Pastor's Kid" - one woman (duh), experiencing a service at her home church. Production would include VO recording of the service, prayers, New Testament lessons, hymnals - A woman is visiting home from NYC - she's the pastor's kid. She is in some high-pressure job/ what is the job she has completely acclimated to the city versus small-town Virginia, and so she clashes with everyone else. - Enters in the middle of the first hymnal --- stru

Him: ...I liked taking care of you when you were hung over. I like having sex with you, but more than that I like not having sex with you. Just having you here makes me feel warm. I like how bashful you get when you bring me home after a night out, even when you know it's a sure thing. I like the way you lie about us sharing a cab. I used to like how no one knew what was going on - we had a secret. But now even you don't know what's going on. Her: what's going on? Him: I love

Questions for expansion: Why would they put them so far back? What's their reason for not letting anyone move? What happens if you move? ----- Bunch of people stuffed on to a train. Several seats, but everybody is piled into the back. One woman, asleep in one of the back rows. She has a couple beer cans at her feet, another in her hand. She drops the one in her hand which makes a racket and wakes her up. Everyone looks at her disapprovingly. She stretches, then decides she wa

Just an idea that I want to expand... A woman abandoned her family when she was 27. She had had the child when she was 20, felt trapped by her forced marriage and his family. - where did she go? - she returns because her son is graduating high school and she wants to see him. ©2017 Emily Dalton

The older I get, the more I have to fight my urges. It's like I'm reverting into a child. I'm sitting on the subway and a guy stands in front of me, his crotch just about a foot away from my face, and I find myself thinking 'how ducking easy would it be for me to just reach up and stroke him? Would it turn him on? Would he freak out? What is a normal human response to that?' And I have to actively remind myself, no you can't fucking do that. Or I'll notice an attractive woman

this counts... He texts you and suddenly all that "nope, I'm gonna play his game and I'm not texting back right away - fuck that guy he doesn't have the time for me then I'm not gonna give my time to him - if he wanted to be part of my future he'd be part of my present and I DON'T NEED HIM" - all that? Goes flying right out the window. You are alive. You're fucking ALIVE. You feel your blood, you feel your ovaries, you FEEL YOUR TITS INSIDE YOUR BRA, all because he was thinki

A: THERE'S TOO MANY! B: WHAT?! A: THERE'S TOO MANY OF THEM! WHAT DO I DO! B: Throw bacon, bro. A chucks a load of bacon at a giant horde of zombies out the window. They pull back just long enough for him to get the window shut B: Nice. A: Dude. B: Bro. A: That was...stellar! *they high five* B: Yes, dude. I highly admired your ability to zone in on your chill factor, and not let something as menial as the undead mess with your brain, man. You got this. A: Yeah, dude. Thanks f

To be expanded upon BIG TIME.... Location: hotel room Harold: MAGGIE! Maggie: oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck Harold: hold it to his neck! Maggie: fuck it's everywhere! (Proceeds to put rags on man who is bleeding profusely on the bed) Harold: watch your language and push down hard! Maggie: it's not stopping! Harold: sit on him and hold it down Maggie: I don't wanna! Harold: Margaret Emily Jones! Maggie: OKAY GOD (Harold tries to call an ambulance) Harold: hello, yes we need - there'

Inspired by Margaret Atwood's THE YEAR OF THE FLOOD - to be built upon!!!! 1 staring out a window, a drink in his hand. He is visibly shaken. 1: I can't believe it. So many years workin' - slavin' away. That's what I been doin. For them. For these people. ..for my people. Slavin' for them, to care for them, for my home. And now... I can't leave 'em. I can't and I won't. 2: what're you blatherin' on about? 1: the flood. The flood's comin', brother. 2: oh Jesus THE FLOOD, the f

Spotlight on a woman wearing a tutu fairy-style wedding dress. She's slumped into a loveseat centerstage. Her makeup is smeared, tears streaking her face, a half empty bottle of champagne in her hand. She's having a day. There's a bluetooth speaker next to her playing a sad/ angsty song. She takes a swig. She's a mixture of depressed, horrified, and yet relieved. There's a small table next to her, an ash tray and a joint currently smoking. She reaches over and takes a hit. It