Inner monologue

ME: Okay, Emily. Time to write some pages.

EMILY: Okay. Let's just put on these headphones so I don't hear the special ed math teacher's lesson and can listen to inspirational tunes like "Toxic" and "Wanted Dead or Alive" as I make up some story goodness.

ME: Okay. Also try to put some ABBA in there. I'm in the mood to listen to "Rock Me."

EMILY: That's a good one. Rock me, show me that trick now roll me, show me that kick now you can do magic, baby! And I can't-

ME: Emily.

EMILY: -get enough of it! Rock me!

ME: EMILY!

EMILY: What?

ME: PAGES.

EMILY: Oh, right. Okay just let me get some water. Oooh look! John Rogers posted something new today! Let's check that out!

ME: Later.

EMILY: Why are you such a bitch?

ME: PAGES.

EMILY: Fine.

ME: Fine.

EMILY: These pages suck. I should delete them and start over.

ME: No.

EMILY: Why not?

ME: It's your first draft. It's going to suck and you can't stop that.

EMILY: But there's still like 15 pages where nobody kicks anybody's ass or blows anything up!

ME: That's okay. When you're done you can go back and blow up that church if it will help.

EMILY: Oooh I should do that now!

ME: NO.

EMILY: Why not? That sounds like way more fun than all this stupid dialogue.

ME: You know you can't just have two hours of explosions.

EMILY: Oh my god that sounds awesome. Screw this. I'm gonna start a screenplay about an explosion that spreads through town. Let's see.... Fade in. Exterior, small town in America, night. Shit explodes.

ME: Stop it.

EMILY: You never want me to have any fun.

ME: I want you to sell a screenplay and make a ton of money so you can buy a house.

EMILY: You make that sound so boring.

ME: I'm not boring.

EMILY: Yes you are.

ME: No I'm n- Hey stop stalling. Write your dialogue.

EMILY: Fine.

ME: Fine.