INT. NYC APARTMENT BEDROOM- DAWN, DECEMBER 29th SAT.
[EMILY is slumped on a cluttered desk. Cellphone on her hand, pencils and pens in old soup cans, the typewriter page is blank, and coffee cup is spilling off the table. She stares at coffee dripping to the floor.]
ANGLE ON HER FACE
I wish life as an author could be easy. I am daily plagued by workweek, distractions, and my archenemy: writer’s block. So far, writer’s block is going up my peeves list.
[phone rings; EMILY answers it.]
Hey, Jake. It’s pretty early, like what, six am?
Aw, Em, did I really arouse you from your beauty sleep or that gorgeous mind of yours? It’s really not that early though. It’s six forty-five. And New York never sleeps, ya know. How ’bout we talk things at good ole’ Starbucks around the corner.
Will be there. Good ole’ Starbucks. I seriously need some caffeine drive. I pulled an all-nighter trying to get ideas, and wonders of wonders- nothing came.
You know nothing comes out of that. Twenty-four, with an English degree from college, two nicely selling novels, and you are losing out on writers’ block. Must be serious. Stay where you are. Jake-ster on the move!! (ends call)
What I get from a hot, goofball writer boyfriend from Manhattan. (turns to empty page) I will get you, writers’ block, you may be celebrating now, but I am going to bring out your Waterloo. Soon it will be wintertime for you and spring time for me.
[EMILY stares outside window, at the snow falling as the dawn starts, starts humming “Jingle Bell Rock”. Tries to remember Christmas when she was a kid]
EXT. NICE FARMHOUSE IN MIDWEST, USA- AFTERNOON, CHRISTMAS DAY
CLOSE UP ON FRONT WINDOW
[YOUNG EMILY’s nose is pressed against window; draws snowflakes in the frost with her forefinger, then we follow as she runs from the window to the kitchen. “Jingle Bell Rock” plays from a distant radio]
INT. SMALL KITCHEN/DINING ROOM
MONTAGE OF SHOTS
[MOMMY is near the stove busy cooking stew, and checks the oven if the apple pie is ready. Humming “Frosty the Snowman”.
YOUNG EMILY throws open the door. She is jumping excitedly as she steals a few cookies from a tray on the eating table. Shoves cookies into her mouth very quickly.
MOMMY is shaking her head as she checks the oven again, cursing under her breath.]
YOUNG EMILY(pointing at the window)
Look, Mommy! It’s snowing! It’s snowing! Can I go out, pretty please?
Em, you’ll catch your death in such a cold, cold day. Negative fifteen degrees they say! Why won’t you play with your presents that daddy gave you, hon?
But, Mommmmy, I already played with my new doll. I want to go outside in the snow. (crosses her arms)
Alright then, hon. Just don’t lose your mittens!!!
EXT. NICE FARMHOUSE IN MIDWEST USA- TWO MINUTES LATER
ANGLE ON FRONT DOOR
[YOUNG EMILY bursts out of the door. We follow as she runs into the front yard. She bends down and prepares to build a snowman. She hears whistling ten feet away from her. She looks left at the sound.]
ANGLE AT YOUNG EMILY’S FACE
YOUNG EMILY (smiles)
Dylan, you rascal!
ANGLE AT DYLAN
Merry Christmas, Emily. Look, I got my new winter coat. (Spins around to show her). Jealous, huh, a real deer leather and deer fur coat! Real fancy, isn’t it, Emily?
BACK AT YOUNG EMILY’S FACE
Ha, my granny has one just like it. It’s probably fake, anyway. How did your dad let you go play out here, when he grounded you?
He didn’t. Dad has gone to the market today, and it usually takes him hours to go and return. My mom can’t leave the house because she’s still weak from her pneumonia, and she let me go as long as I stay near the house.
So then, you wanna build a build a snowman with me? Or a snowball fight first?
[DYLAN throws snowball on YOUNG EMILY’s arm. Then she throws a snowball back. Giggling, they pelt each other with their snowballs, back and forth. Suddenly the doorbell rings. EMILY is sucked out of her memory.]
INT. NYC APARTMENT BEDROOM- DAWN, DECEMBER 29th, SAT.
ANGLE IN FRONT OF EMILY
EMILY(shocked, feels an idea coming on)
Cha-ching, I believe I’ve got it.
[Doorbell rings. We follow as EMILY rushes downstairs to answer it.]
EXT. NYC APARTMENT- TWO MINUTES LATER
ANGLE ON FRONT DOOR
[EMILY rushes out of the door, and hugs JAKE. JAKE nearly drops his two Starbucks lattes in his hand, but hugs EMILY.]
What’s up, Em? Finally conquered writers’ block?
OMG, Jake, I have so much to tell you…
[End of Part 1]