I'm curious in trying my hand at adapting literature but don't quite know how to do it right or get started. I'm looking for narrative advice and not practical(copyright issue etc) as I am aware of the troubles of adapting copyright work. I simply need a couple of good guidelines to think about whenever I sit down to adapt something. Hope I'm clear.

I already have two scripts I adapted from my favorite writer, William Burroughs. Have at look at them while formulating your guidelines.

Thanks

“Meeting of International Conference of Technological Psychiatry”

from

“Naked Lunch”

by

William S. Burroughs

Adapted by

Ralph N.J.

Dialogues and Directions

by

William S. Burroughs



Int. Operating Theater

The scene is cold and gray. Several rows of conferents look down the amphitheater at Doctor “Fingers” Schafer standing on a platform in the center.

Doctor Schafer
Gentlemen, the human nervous system can be reduced to a compact and abbreviated spinal column. The brain, front, middle and rear must follow the adenoid, the wisdom tooth, the appendix....I give you my master work: The Complete All American De-Anxietized Man!

We hear a loud metal door opening and closing. Enter The Man carried by two Negro Bearers who drop him on the platform with bestial, sneering brutality. They wait by the door.

The Man wiggles.

The conferents look down in disgust. Strange digesting sounds and a loud roar are heard off-screen. Waves of green smoke fill the room. The conferents hold their noses.

Doctor Schafer
Clarence!! How can you do this to me?? Ingrates!! Everyone of them ingrates!!

The conferents start back muttering in dismay. We hear:

Conferent #1
...I’m afraid Schafer had gone a bit too far...

Conferent #2
...I sounded a word of warning...

Conferent #3
...Brilliant chap Schafer...but...

Conferent #4
...Man will do anything for publicity...

Conferent #5
Gentlemen, this unspeakable and in every sense illegitimate child of Doctor Schafer’s perverted brain must not see the light....Our duty to the human race is clear...

A fat, frog-faced Southern doctor lifts his head up from a mason jar full of corn juice.

Southern Doctor
We must stomp out the Un-American crittah!

He advances drunkenly off-screen in direction of the thing.

Southern Doctor
(O.S.)
Fetch Gasoline! We gotta burn the son of ***** like an uppity Nigra!

Negro Bearer
(to his colleague)
Man he done see the light

FADE OUT

FADE IN

Int. Courtroom

Judge
Order in the court!

The D.A rises to face the jury.

D.A.
Gentlemen of the jury, these “learned gentlemen”...

He points to the familiar faces of the conferents at the plaintiff stand.

...claim that the innocent human creature they have so wantonly slain suddenly turned himself into a huge black centipede and it was “their duty to the human race” to destroy this monster before it could, by any means at it’s disposal, perpetrate it’s kind....Are we to gulp down this tissue of horse ****? Are we to take these glib lies like a greased and nameless *******? Where is this wondrous centipede? “We have destroyed it”, they say smugly....And I would like to remind you, Gentlemen and Hermaphrodites of the Jury, that this Great Beast-

He points to Doctor Schafer at the defendant stand.

D.A.
-has on several occasions, appeared in this court charged with the unspeakable crime of brain rape....In plain English-
(he pounds his fist on the rail of the jury box)
-in plain English, Gentlemen, forcible lobotomy!

The Jury gasps. One member dies of a heart attack. Three fall to the floor in writhing orgasms of prurience.

The D.A. points dramatically to Doctor Schafer.

D.A.
He it is....He and no other who has reduced whole provinces of our fair land to a state of bordering on the far side of idiocy....He it is who has filled great warehouses with row on row, tier on tier of helpless creatures who must have their every want attended....”The Drones” he calls them with a cynical leer of pure educated evil....Gentlemen, I say to you that the wanton murder of Clarence Cowie must not go unavenged: This foul crime shrieks like a wounded faggot for justice at least!

A loud roar and crashing sounds are heard coming from the court entrance.

All turn their heads to the chaos.

Voice
(O.S.)
Man, that mother ****er’s hungry! I’m getting out of here, me.

The Negro bearer comes crashing through the door out of sight.

A wave of electric horror sweeps through the conferents.

They storm the exits screaming and clawing.

Fade Out

This message has been edited. Last edited by: ralphnj,

« The Dream Cops »

by

Ralph N.J

Based on a

short story

by

William S.Burroughs

Fade In
Int.-Apartment-Morning

Loud knocking, the agent rushes over to the door, turns the key.

Three cops, two in plain clothes, one in uniform, barge in.

The uniformed cop grabs the agent and handcuffs him.

The agent looks over to one of the plain clothes cops. The fat one chomps on a cigar.

Agent

The cigar’s too long, a dream cigar. You can’t touch me.

Fat cop nods to uniformed cop who smiles with a snarl.

Fat cop hits agent across the mouth, lips bleeding.

Fat Cop

You have some peculiar dreams. Besides, we can dream too...sleeping with a ******.

Agent looks over to the bed to see a young Negro lying there, lice crawling out of his hair.

Fat Cop

All right, let’s see your arm.

The Agent, handcuffed, struggles to roll up his sweatshirt sleeve.

Fat Cop

Wise guy, eh? You’re the wisest prick I ever walked in on. Let’s see your arm. Your short arm.

He grabs the agent’s belt and, with his other hand, rips open the agent’s fly, buttons falling off.

He kneels down and holds something between his fingers which we don’t see.

He turns over to the skinny plain clothes cop in the kitchen taking the number on the kerosene stove. He too has a cigar in his mouth.

Fat Cop

Sixty percent of them are Jews.

Agent

I’m not Jewish.

Fat Cop
(to Agent)

Sure, I know. You ****ed one of those characters eats glass and razorblades and circumscribed yourself. Not Jewish!

He laughs. The skinny cop, looking up from the stove, laughs back. A gold filling falls out of his mouth.

Fat cop signals to the uniformed cop to un-cuff the agent.

Fat Cop
(to Agent)

Watch your step.

All three cops leave the room laughing.

Fade Out


Fade In
Int.-Apartment-Morning

The agent gets out of bed rubbing his jaw.

He lights the kerosene stove, looks down at something.

Through the flames, we make out a gold filling.

Fade Out

The End