Sage Sweetwater releases Night of the Foal: The New Riders of the Purple Sage as her fifth lesbian pulp fiction dime store format to accomodate television and filmmakers' interest and current marketing trends in the lesbian genre. Dedicated to C.G. McGovern-Bowen & Blue Sleighty.
Not letting obstacles throw her off the trail, Sweetwater publishes lesbian pulp western storytelling in a new format. Sage Sweetwater's consistent high quality lesbian pulp western fiction represents the early years of the western pulps. Expect Night of the Foal: The New Riders of the Purple Sage to be confronting issues of the American Western frontier as it was, set in modern day through poetic prose. Sage Sweetwater's lesbian western character development is exclusively written for movie and television drama. Her prolific quill has caught the attention of filmmakers and screenwriters globally. This is only the beginning for the Western pulp lesbian in her frontier sagas. Sage Sweetwater is a creation of a resourceful writer who knows what her audience wants. She is a strong-willed lesbian woman of the modern West.
Sage Sweetwater's Authors Den Erotic Lesbian Western Poetry Turned into TV Series! Jett Durango! Now in production! Adapted from Sage Sweetwater's soon-to-be-released Night of the Foal: The New Riders of the Purple Sage. Dedicated to C.G. McGovern-Bowen and Blue Sleighty.
* * * * * * * *
Jett Durango
Teleplay by Timothy O. Riley and Shay Dillon
Based on Poetry by Sage Sweetwater
TV PILOT -- 1st DRAFT
EPISODE ONE -
Night of the Foal
EXT. A FIVE AND DIME STORE IN ABILENE CIRCA 1889 -- DAY
Its sign reads 'Last Stop 5c and 10c'
INSERT --Abilene --1889
INT. FIVE AND DIME STORE -- SAME
A young girl (maybe fourteen) is perusing a periodical stand.
CLOSE ON -- A penny dreadful's cover -
It depicts a wild woman in buckskins shooting down a bad guy on horseback.
The title reads -- 'Jett Durango'.
She picks it up, thumbing through it.
ON -- Her face --
Her eyes widen.
A wide grin stripes her features.
________________________________________________
VARIOUS SCENES SAGE SWEETWATER SHARES WITH JETT DURANGO FANS!
________________________________________________
CHARACTER NOTE: (Jett Durango is in her mid twenties. She is striking in appearance. Her long fiery red hair frames a finely sculptured tanned face -- highlighted by bright green eyes. She wears tight buckskin trousers, a dress shirt, a fancy silk vest, snake skin boots and a long leather slicker. She has a distinguishing knife scar under her right eye).
The scene dissolves into dust thrust up by a horse in full gallop.
PULL BACK -- EXT. SAME -- MORE DUST
SUDDENLY -- There is a rider on a fast horse.
Another rider's mount hits the body and the steed crashes, sending them both flying.
The posse heads after Jett down a ravine.
The chase continues as --
JETT (V.O.)
When you have a crazy posse after
you...With a half crazed priest as
the sheriff on yer heels, it's best
to hide. I have a price around my
neck. I'm innocent -- and I have
bullets to prove it.
SHOT --
Jett peals off over a grade -
TITLE INSERT -
JETT DURANGO
EXT. AN UGLY BOARDER TOWN -- AFTERNOON
Jett languidly saunters into town On 'Great Gold'.
She tethers her horse and enters a bar.
_______________________________________________
INT. AN EQUALLY UGLY BAR -- SAME
It is chaos, filled with talk, music and mayhem.
Rats can be seen scurrying behind the bar backboards.
Jett approaches the bar.
JETT
(inquiring, thirsty)
I'd like some water...You got any fresh water here?
A bar ruffian calls out from a poker table, snuffing out his smoke -
RUFFIAN
(sniggering)
Yeah, get the bitch some water.
Jett turns and gives him a nasty stare...
RUFFIAN (CONT'D)
So, what do we have here?
A dusty lil' tumbleweed...rolling into town?
(to the bar-keep)
She needs something -- but it ain't water...
(looking around)
She needs a poke in her rear.
There is laughter from the patrons.
The laughter eggs him on and the ruffian continues with more bravado.
He slides his seat back and approaches her, looking her up-and-down, pleased with what he sees.
RUFFIAN (CONT'D)
(insistent, in Jett's face)
I think she needs some whiskey first.
More laughter erupts from the room.
RUFFIAN (CONT'D)
(to the bar-keep)
Set em' up, grandpa.
The bar-keep abides and slides down 2 generous shots.
RUFFIAN (CONT'D)
(forceful)
Drink up tumbleweed.
JETT
Look, cowboy, I've had one hell of a day.
I would advise you to back up.
She shoves him out of her space.
RUFFIAN
(insulted)
I would advise you to drink up.
Jett shoots back the shot of whiskey, slapping the shot glass down on the bar.
JETT
(snarky)
Satisfied?
The ruffian makes a move to grab Jett’s breasts.
Suddenly --
Jett takes her whip from her bullet belt and proceeds to disassemble the bar with fancy whip tricks.
She knocks down shot glasses...She snaps out chandelier candles.
She throws the whip around the ruffian's neck and pulls on it.
He chokes, as he spews bloody spit from his mouth.
A few of the ruffian’s cohorts shift in their chairs as if to take her on in the ruffian’s defense.
Jett whirls around, as a they rest their hands on their guns.
JETT (CONT'D)
(to the ruffian and bar patrons)
Back off---or die.
The bar's personality turns to that of rapt silence -- and disbelief.
Jett releases her whip from the ruffian's neck.
She wraps it and returns it to its place on her gun belt.
The ruffian falls to his knees, coughing and gurgling.
JETT (CONT'D)
(to the barkeep, grinning)
Now, how about that glass of clean water.
A burly man in the crowd looks up from his poker game.
He smiles broadly.
POKER PLAYER
Give the girl what she wants for Christ's sake before she rips us all a new asshole!
The bar erupts in laughter.
Jett raises her water glass to the bar patrons.
_____________________________________________
INT. A 19TH CENTURY TRAIN CAR -- DAY
TRACKING -- UP THE ISLE -
The train-cab is packed with dusty sundry versions of frontier humanity.
They all bump around to the rhythm of the tracks.
ON -- JETT
She is deeply leaning back in her seat.
Her flat-brimmed hat is angled down over her eyes.
She is sweetly snoring.
ANGLE DOWN ON -
Jett's ebony and pearl gun, nestled in its holster, flashes in the sunlight.
OVER TO --
There is a young girl, across the isle, staring at her.
OVER TO --
Jett is sleeping -- dreaming -
PULL IN -
JETT (V.O.)
(matter-of-fact)
Those who know me -- know I'm no
Judas. I don't betray friends or
those that have done me kindly.
It's true...I killed a man...a man
of the cloth, but he deserved it...the
rapist bastard...Now I got a deranged
rawhide-preacher and his band of cutthroats
ridin' me down. They'll never catch me...
not in a thousand years.
DREAM SEQUENCE -
A beautiful bucolic pristine churchyard is full of regular Sunday attendees.
The Pastor greets the members as they leave the service.
He calls the parishioners by their names and is at his pious best.
A 12 year old Jett is in the background roughing around with the boys in the field.
She outdoes the biggest strongest boys at roping a stray chair.
JETT (CONT'D)
(victoriously)
Haw! Top that one!
The Pastor glances over at Jett and shakes hands vigorously with Jett's father, Abraham.
(Character Note: The Pastor is in his mid 40's and unusually tall. His face has been deeply scarred by smallpox. He dresses in a black suit, white collar and a large flat brimmed leather hat. He has an authoritative air about him and is somewhat unapproachable).
PASTOR
You have a robust daughter Abraham.
(lightly)
I do hope she is minding her place as a Godly
young woman. It must be hard raising a daughter
without a mother. We all miss your wife...
she was a beautiful soul.
Abraham smiles graciously.
PASTOR (CONT'D)
Why don't you leave Jett here today
to help with tidying up the sanctuary.
Sister Foster will be here and it
would be nice for Jett to spend some
time in female presence. I will
bring her back home around supper time.
ABRAHAM
I think that would be nice, Pastor.
(Abraham beams with approval)
Jett could use the soft touch of a woman.
PASTOR
(smiling broadly)
There you have it. We'll see you around sunset.
ABRAHAM
Fine, fine. See you then.
Abraham calls Jett over.
A disheveled Jett runs over smiling ear to ear.
Jett's white Sunday best is covered in red dirt from roughing around with the neighborhood boys.
______________________________________________
EXT. FULL SHOT- OMINOUS FACE SHROUDED IN A LEATHER MASK--LATE AFTERNOON
PULL BACK To
expose a posse of a half a dozen riders.
SHOT ON-- MASKED MAN
CHARACTER NOTE: (His tormented features are only hinted at under his mask. He is dressed like a man of the cloth... in black, white collar and large flat brimmed leather hat.)
The masked man inhales deeply through his nose as if he were blood hound catching the scent of his prey.
MASKED MAN
We're on her trail boys. I got a rope with her name on it.
Double penalties for her sins...
Masked Man spits on the ground and it lands on a dead horseman laying lifeless on the dry sand.
The sound of flies buzzing around the corpse fill the audio.
MASKED MAN (CONT'D)
(looking at the dead corpse)
You're either with me or against me.
There ain't no ridin' the fence...
Let's ride....
ANGLE TO:
EXT: FULL SHOT LATE AFTERNOON-- SKY -- CONTINUOUS
Buzzards circle in the sky above...
EXT: DENSE FOREST--NIGHT
Jett is bent over a camp fire with a wool blanket draped over her shoulders.
She stokes the coals with a short branch.
(V.O.) JETT
Nights can be cold... and lonely.
What the hell am I doing? Am I on
some crusade or am I just running...
How many people do I have to kill to
find a little peace?
Jett seems to suddenly remember the satchel from the miner on the train earlier.
She pulls the branch away from the fire and momentarily snags it in her long red hair.
She carelessly tosses the branch to one side.
She laughs softly to herself as she pulls out the satchel from the pocket of her slicker.
JETT
I'll be a son-of-a-bitch. That old miner wasn't kidding.
Jett looks into a satchel full of gold coins.
JETT (CONT'D)
Hot damn! I'm gonna get me a hot
bath and a warm bed tonight.
Jett smothers the fire, gathers her gear and mounts Great Gold.
JETT (CONT'D)
To the nearest watering hole Gold.
One of the posse is hit and flies off the back of his horse like a rolling marble.
Gold Run Productions, LLC.
Sage Sweetwater, Tim Riley, Shay Dillon, Paul Kraushaar
Sage Sweetwater is professionally represented in Entertainment Law and Show Business.
Andrew J. Contiguglia*
Esquire, Entertainment Law
Contiguglia/Fazzone, P.C.
400 S. Colorado Blvd., Suite 830
Denver, Colorado 80246
*Colorado and New York
Phone: 303-780-7333
Fax: 303-780-7337
Email: ajc.ajcpc.com
Web sites
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Excerpt
Night of the Foal
midwife called
away in the middle
of the night, foal
in the barn, breech
birth, Bureau of Land
Management knows she's
gay, witch's runes bloodline,
inheritance, her mother's
jelly jars, guitars, curry
combs, pictures of strays
without homes, rodeo halters
in the tack trunk,
she cries
for firebrand,
a whiskey shot,
a taste, hot, whisper
escapes her throat,
telephone rings, she's
out, rain pours, she's
wet, truck wipers on high,
she's stoned on firebrand's
gay blade, the moisture drops
she made, the landline dropped,
neon dim, bartender asks
her to ensure they won't
eradicate mustangs,
orphaned filly, midwife
sees turquoise beads
dancing, seducing dance
filling herself with the
pole, christened stripper
on stage, firebrand's
passion embedded between
her thighs, completed
application, feral
need, smoke the weed,
sagebrush filled basin,
the grass remembered,
controversy led
to the feral law in
1959, the firebrand,
lips on fire, whiskey
beyond the soft phase,
midwife's hips raise
higher, "harder" she
hears the firebrand,
voice of wild desire,
more than she can stand,
bartender takes her truck
keys, drives her home,
firebrand's screaming,
drops to her knees, witch's
cauldron boils, 'o waning
moon, thy divine light I
take, with salt, with
firewater, for lust's
sake, with altar as anchor,
this latex I bury, I begin
the flow'...
midwife called
away in the middle
of the night, foal
in the barn, breech
birth, Bureau of Land
Management knows she's
gay, witch's runes
bloodline, she cries
for firebrand, a
whiskey shot, telephone
rings, she's out,
I...
Copyright 3/5/2008 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist
______________________________________
Io's Fire
Eye-O's foal
born to New England's
daughter, fiery magnetotail
out of the womb, stirrups
resolve, kicking up dust -
destiny bound for the aurorae,
New England Futurity, foals of
1898 - cosmic fodder of Gish
Bar Mons, volcanic lust,
satiate,
find me
in the magnetic
field plowing Ionian
fire, sowing desire, tear
my black pants away from my
flesh, thrust, don't stop
until passion's tilled,
enter this angular moment,
reins and bridle
absent, harness present,
my bent knees find no need
for the stirrup, do you know
I'm Jupiter's fire?
Copyright 2/1/2009 Ms. Sage Sweetwater
______________________________________
The Ballad of Sweetwater
the man
spit tobacco
juice on my boot,
another man at the
lumber company refused
me nails, my lover is
coming in on the rails,
Friday's banker man
said, "don't lend money
to your kind" - newspaper
man said "my press won't
print your stories, my
readers aren't blind,
you plainly offend" - my
lover is coming in on the
train - I rode in the cold
rain, my horse knew the
livery stable man would
sell us grain,
morning service
train whistle Christian
brethren epistle, rode
through the horse's
hock-high thistle,
man's tobacco
leaf harvest drowned,
his muddy boots in the
ground, wet socks sunk
in clay, I rode by, let
my cigar ash fall upon
his cold, bare
feet in the rain,
"Gay can't help you
today,"I said,
"Fucking my woman in a
perfumed dry bed" - my
lover is coming in on the
train,
man's lumber pulled
away from the nails,
catching roof leaks
in milk pails, I rode
by, my horse's shoes
nailed tight, "Gay
can't help you today,"
I said, "Fucking my
woman in a perfumed
dry bed" - my lover
is coming in on the
train,
banker man's
straight mortgage
deeds stained watermark,
farmhouses flooded,
barns dark, I rode by,
pussy pays the lady,
"Gay can't help you
today," I said, "Fucking
my woman in a perfumed dry
bed" - my lover is coming
in on the train,
newspaper man's
printing press
halted - god, all
the rust, newsprint
soggy, I rode by,
my stories told in
movie, "Gay can't help
you today," I said,
"Fucking my woman in a
perfumed dry bed" - my
lover is coming in
on the train...
The Ballad of Sweetwater...
I...
Copyright 12/13/2007 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist
______________________________________
New Riders of the Purple Sage
occult of
the pitchfork
tines twitching,
water witching,
forked stick tight
in my hands, passionate
demands, my wrists twist
in the meadow's mist, palms
up, divining rod searching
for her wet, 1896, long ago
teacher passed out rulers
and forked sticks, wrote
on the blackboard, Herodotus
willow dowsing, in the Bible,
Moses used a divining rod to
strike a rock and call forth
water, I am getting hotter,
in the Book of Shadows,
Firebrand used a witching
fork to strike a flint,
pre-dawn crowing of a cock
and call forth the black
sheep daughter, in harness,
Percheron shod,
windswept with
lust and tombstone
dust, my witcher stick
arched down over the
pasque flower, thunder
and lightning striking
those who question my
method, blazing my name
on the pages of Western
history, cemetery cellar
full of Mason jars, bins
full of my stashed whiskey,
earliest grave date
1812 - latest 2009
black sheep
daughter, I smell
your aroma in the
air, my wrists twist
in the meadow's mist,
palms up, divining rod
searching for your wet,
I traverse the soil,
hand-wrought square-head,
nail pussy! she remodeled
the land twice over, snake
hides, bees and very white
honey, wild grape vines,
occult of the pitchfork
tines, 1896, long ago
teacher passed out rulers
and forked sticks, wrote
on the blackboard,
New Riders of the
Purple Sage - it is
a land abounding with
the flesh of the buffalo,
beaver fur is our
lodestar,
black sheep
daughter, I
feel your thighs
pounding, I hear
you coming, ghostly
trees reaching out
of the mist, firebrand
kissed, you lean into
fuck like strong horses
leaning into the collar,
my wrists twist in the
meadow's mist, palms up,
divining rod searching
for your wet,
I...
Copyright 2008 Ms. Sage Sweetwater, firebrand lesbian novelist
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