A STORY THAT WOULDN’T LEAVE ALONE
Some scripts you wrestle into shape. Others… they quietly unravel you while you’re trying to write them.
This one was different from the very beginning.
It arrived as a spec script from a brilliant writer/director, with a strong central idea — but instead of tracing the original lines, I found myself slowly dismantling it, piece by piece, and rebuilding it into something far more internal. Far more unsettling. And far more… me.
The journey wasn’t straightforward. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever rewritten the third act of a screenplay so many times in my life — not because it didn’t work, but because I kept uncovering deeper truths the characters were hiding. Especially the protagonist. He wasn’t just grieving. He was living in the ghost of what he lost.
What began as a psychological drama soon evolved into something deeper — a layered family story about what holds people together even when they drift apart. At its heart, this became a film about how much a family needs each other to stay afloat — even when one of them has emotionally disappeared.
This is a story about presence, absence, memory, and guilt — but not in the ways we usually tell them. Every character carries a wound. Some show it. Some bury it. Some don’t even know it’s there until it explodes into the room. The screenplay flirts with silence, leans into hallucination, and plays with emotional withholding in ways that made me both uncomfortable and strangely fulfilled.
At its core, it’s an exploration of how grief, when unprocessed, can become a kind of architecture — building rooms we live in, long after we should have left. I was fascinated by the idea of a man who hasn’t just lost his mother… but one who hasn’t let her go. That subtle difference shaped everything.
And let’s not forget the child in the story — quietly drawing her emotions in her art book. That subplot, in particular, shook me. Sometimes children say more in silence than adults ever do in monologues.
Now that it’s wrapped — and I mean really wrapped — I feel both emptied and enriched. Like I’ve said goodbye to someone I never really met… but somehow knew intimately.
This script didn’t come easy. But it came honestly. And I think that’s what makes this one special.
The title is still under wraps for now — but the screenplay is ready. And when it finds its audience, I hope it sits with them quietly… the same way it sat with me.
I can’t wait for you to meet it.
More soon.
