Michael Gaither

INT. A SUBURBAN HOME - MORNING

The CLICK, CLACK of typing.

A small office, light streams in from a large window in front of which a tall thirty something sits. His hair is short, a military high and tight. He faces away from the window at two monitors on a large desk. This is MICHAEL, our writer.

The CLICK of his keystrokes stops. Michael looks at a photo on his desk, picks it up. A young boy sits on the floor, blond hair, blue eyes and a goofy smile. This is BRENNAN.

Michael places the photo in its place. Leans back in his overstuffed leather chair. He looks at a large clock on the wall.

MICHAEL
Ten, already a block. Great start
to the day Mr. Gaither.

He leans forward in his chair. Stands, walks to a coffee pot on a table near the window. On the wall in a wooden frame, backed with green felt, colorful military ribbons and medals surround a black nameplate with white print, “GAITHER”.

Michael turns, walks back to his desk. Behind him, next to the framed medals, a degree, “B.A. ANTHROPOLOGY presented to Michael Gaither.”

Michael sips his coffee, sits, and puts the cup aside.

The CLICK, CLACK of typing.

FADE OUT:

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Soldier in the US ARMY – Screenwriter – Father of a son with Cystic Fibrosis

I earned a B.A. in Anthropology from the University of Memphis and joined the military in an effort to reduce my acquired college debt.

I write because I’m in love with storytelling. It has a certain power over us, a mystic quality. An singular art expressed in many vibrant forms.