Bill Clay
Writer
Tier: Urban
Active 1895 days ago
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Samples: 2
Biography
"We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives." -Toni Morrison
My name is Bill, and I am a writer for both print and screen.
I am experienced in writing fiction, non-fiction, poetry, short stories, and screenplays. Working in new genres and formats is something I look forward to, as I am always trying to challenge and improve my craft. Writing is something that gives me great joy, and my passion for it makes time disappear.
Writing, storytelling, and expressing myself creatively are things that I have done innately since I was in grade school. Yet once I attended college, I started to take myself more seriously and realized it was something I wanted to do for a career. I recently received my degree from my state's flagship university, and I am looking to put my education to good use.
I am comfortable writing in all kinds of niches and am always looking to broaden my horizons. I am excited by the opportunity to work with you and create together. Let's make it happen!
Non-Fiction, Biography & Memoir, History, Humor & Entertainment, Parenting & Relationships, Religion & Spirituality, Travel, Self Help, Politics & Current Affairs, Comedy
Content snippets
Lost Highway Analysis
David Lynch has made a place for himself in Hollywood by challenging and captivating audiences with his mind-bending experimental narratives, surrealist imagery and expressionistic aesthetics. Yet out of all his films, Lost Highway (1997) seems to be the most enigmatic and open to interpretation, even though Lynch is extremely averse to explaining what his films mean. I will, however, attempt to draw some kind of analysis out of the subtext of the film, and there is a lot to work with. This is partially due to the fact that this is a film noir (or neo-noir since it is somewhat contemporary)...
The Last Home on the Range
EXT. KANSAS FARMLAND-1870S-evening A ramshackle wooden farmhouse sits between a dirt field and the dark and barren woods. A river runs near the farm and into the trees. The winter sunset burns blood orange on the horizon. ELIZA COLLINS (13) digs a grave in the front yard. EXT. COLLINS FARM-FRONT YARD-CONTINUOUS Eliza stands in the grave, her work nearly done. Covered in mud and clearly exhausted. She shovels a few heaps of earth out of the hole, then stops. Groundwater pools at her feet, and several dead locusts float on the surface. She uses the shovel to climb out of the hole....
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