INTERIOR, HOTEL ROOM - DAY: Sarah, twenty-nine, stares at her laptop while sitting in an uncomfortable chair at a desk that juts out of the wall and oddly separates the “kitchen” from the “living area.” There are papers scattered around and a printer set up behind her laptop. She is scrolling through the Craigslist job postings for Boulder, Colorado. She is scowling. She throws her hands up in frustration.
SARAH: (yelling) Damn! Why doesn’t anyone need a writer?
Sarah shuts her laptop and gets up to stretch. She walks over to the sliding glass door and opens it. Her scowl melts into a smile.
SARAH: Well, thank goodness it’s warm and sunny at least. Unemployment and sunshine go well together. Yeah. I’m talking to myself again.
She gathers her handbag, laptop, throws her sunglasses on and leaves.
CUT TO: INTERIOR, COFFEE SHOP, DAY: Sarah sips an iced latte at Amante Coffee. She’s typing quickly on her laptop.
SARAH’S INNER MONOLOGUE: Hi there. I’m a homeless writer, literally and figuratively. My fiancé got an awesome job that moved us here from Seattle. We’re currently living like nomads at the Residence Inn, which is why I say figuratively. And, I lack a space to create words and ideas of genius as a writer—the literal part. I’m hoping your advertising agency is in need of a writer that is proficient in writing print, television, radio, collateral, outdoor, and jokes.
SARAH: (mutters) Hmmm, too pathetic or is it funny in a cynical way?
INNER MONOLGUE CONTINUES: I promise I won’t pitch a tent or a cot at the office. I welcome both freelance and full-time writing opportunities. Attached is a PDF of my most recent work. I hope we can get together and discuss how we can make each other’s lives better.
Sarah stares at the screen and sips her drink as she re-reads the e-mail. She smiles and hits send. She continues writing, shivering as she is sitting under an air vent. Sarah looks around. The woman at the next table, in her early 40s, notices Sarah’s interest.
FEMALE: Aren’t you freezing?
SARAH: (startled) What? Oh yeah, it’s weird. I …
FEMALE: Oh my god, your hair is beautiful.
Loving a dose of flattery, Sarah turns to thank what could possibly be her first friend in her new city.
FEMALE: (talking fast and stroking her hair) You know I tried to get my hair that exact color and I made the mistake of trusting the ladies at Sally Beauty Supply to match the color and I learned not to do that and to only use twenty and not forty and then mix slowly, oh that’s the key—mix slowly. Is yours real or do you color? Oh, you must color. That gorgeous color can’t be real. I remember when I was your age, my hair color used to be radiant red. I was dancing in Moscow at the time and all the women had red hair, so I did to. Wait, was I in Moscow or Asia? What was I even saying? Oh yes, where do you color your hair?
SARAH: Um, I just moved here from Seattle, so …
FEMALE: Seattle, oh I’m sorry. You must hate our small little town. Although, I’m really involved in the arts here, and my brother’s best friend is in that band Sparklehorse, so he’s a rock star and we hang out all the time. Well, Boulder’s not so bad.
Sarah fakes a bathroom break. When she returns the woman has gone. She sits down and looks at her list of things to do. Five out of the ten advertising and design agencies she wanted to e-mail were checked, as was grocery shopping, contacting a realtor, and finishing a freelance project. She shuts down her laptop and leaves.
CUT TO: INTERIOR, HOTEL - DAY: Sarah and her fiancé wake up to a train’s whistle as it rumbles over the track behind their hotel. Sarah locates the remote control and flips on Good Morning America.
SCOTT: (sleepily) Good morning, love. What’s on your agenda today?
SARAH: (yawns) You know. The same. I’m gonna get up in about five minutes and do some yoga stretching. Then I’ll drive you to work, come back here, workout for thirty minutes, hit the free breakfast bar, and then check e-mail and be disappointed that I didn’t receive any replies.
SCOTT: (hugs Sarah) Oh no. Is the joblessness getting to you?
Sarah shrugs. A tear escapes rolls down her cheek.
SCOTT: (hopeful) You’ll get some good news soon. You’re a great writer. I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to be patient. You’ve only been here a few weeks.
He kisses her, rolls out of bed and walks to the shower.
SARAH: (yells to him in the shower) It’s just hard with you at work, and having all the time in the world to just think about jobs, ya know?
