first day of drama writing class

So, it was my first day of class today in my Intro to Dramatic Writing. This being a class not on writing "dramatically" but writing for drama, theater, or screenplays. Well, seeming as this is an abridged version of the class, he's not having us write a theater script (which is good because I wouldn't want to do that), but instead having our final be us writing a tele-play for a sitcom or other TV show. So, now my big problem is coming up with an idea that's good enough. The class is comprised mainly of film studies majors, and I'm the only one in there that's a publication management major. Ironically, there are a finance major and an accounting major. Well, anyway. So, the first assignment was for us to write a monologue. I've never written a monologue before in my life. What I did come up with is as follows::

Well, maybe you could say I'm bitter. Maybe, but I'd probably attribute my scowl more to the problem of this itchy, cheap, fru-fru netting that some designer thought would be an excellent under piece for a skin-tight-in-all-the-wrong places sort of dress. Let's face it, I look like an angry traffic cone. Right next to my fellow traffic cones all lined up just so, shortest to tallest, so hopefully the bride will be sure not to veer off the straight path toward certain doom. How long have we been standing here? If the groom sweats any more through his rented tux they'll probably not let him return it. An outdoor wedding she said. Oh lovely he said. Now he's regretting it. Perhaps he thought outdoors in the early spring? No no. Definitely not summer he thought. Wrong. If only I could drop these stinkin' flowers and wipe my hands on this dress at the risk of leaving a large sweaty handprint in the silk. If I shift my weight from foot to foot just slightly I might be able to catch a breeze from my own swaying. The itch from the back of my leg inches it way up like a caterpillar crawling up the stalk of a flower, just as a drizzle of sweat slides down my back. Great, that is the last thing I need to to deal with. Ah, and there she is the blushing bride, more likely sun burn than blush. Five minutes late and as on time as it gets, as usual. I got her a watch for her bachelorette party. Of course my other sweaty comrades to my right got her more naughty things for the night after this shindig is finally over. How much do I want to bet she's wearing the black lace teddy under that perfectly white dress instead of my watch? How much? Clearly there's no accounting for practicalness. She takes those measured steps, so precise... so... rigid? Yeah, she's freaking out. I watched her practice this walk for days. Yet here she is worried about tripping over a petal. And the groom is tearing up. It might be a bit touching if it wasn't for the fact that he definitely does not need more moisture added to his face as his brow is wet enough to be a slip and slide for ants. She arrives. At long last, and adoringly looks at her drenched and sticky fiancée with all the love in the world. Ugh. Sort of makes me want to gag. You could say it's because I'm bitter. Maybe, but it's more due to the dry mouth that's causing me to nearly choke on my own tongue. It's not that I'm anti-wedding or anything, it's really just that the bride's choice of establishment under the eye of mother nature completely disregarded the evil step-child, you know, her son. Yeh, it's corny, but give me a break. I'm the one dying out here in hell's wedding procession. Well, that's all well and good. Let her have her musky man and her tempting teddy. That's fine. I don't even care. I'm just a traffic cone in the parking lot of life. And who is she? She's the "just married" car. Of course. I'm bitter.

So that's what I've managed to come up with. Tomorrow we present them to the class (it's a workshop oriented type structure). We'll see how everyone else likes it. I think it's fabulous, considering I've never written one before. Who knows, maybe I completely missed the mark on what a monologue is supposed to be. We'll find out tomorrow.