https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/119256/

Must be +16 cause I dont want my script to be ruined, but ill make an exception if you a great writer and you -16 (you'll need to make a sample script).

Age
Experience
You own Story AND script

I'm over 10 and under 13 (I'd like to keep my exact age private), and have written this. I have endless amounts of time to work on it this Summer.

If I have been accepted, please leave a comment on my profile, as I am having a glitch latley where I am not updated on topic posts.

Good luck with your project!

thank you

I could help with either being an editor or writing the script.

I am under 16, but over 10.

(I'll add a sample of my writing below)
To prove I actually have talent, I'll add a few things below:
I'm a writing ALP (Advanced Learning Plan)
I have won a few contests before

SAMPLE WRITING:

I checked my watch, sighing when I saw the time.
A quarter to one.
I stared blankly at the face, watching the hands tick sharply. Each movement caused a small yet firm sound, creating a soothing melody.
I laid my chin in the palm of my hands, imagining a song and tapping my fingers to the imaginary rhythm.

My head snapped up when I heard a loud cough.
My teacher stood, an eyebrow cocked.

“The answer, Miss Collins?” He tapped the board behind him.
I did the equation quickly in my head.

“Twelve and four tenths, sir.” He nodded in approval, continuing the lesson.

My mind wandered as soon as he said the first word. Who was I kidding, I knew all this stuff.
I barely needed school, but had to keep going. I couldn't skip anymore years, as I was already 16 as a senior. My parents wouldn't let me skip anymore, they thought I was ‘missing out on the school experience’.

What, awkward teenagers trying to solve simple equations?
Woohoo, sign me up!

I wasn't too happy with them. I could be doing other things, instead here I was, sitting in a classroom listening to a lesson I could teach better than the professor.
Oh goody.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the bell finally rung, signaling the end of not only class, but of school all together.

Well, for the weekend anyway.

I released all the happiness that the weekend brung with a simple sigh, basking in my own little glory as the class filed out of the room while talking about plans.

“Mia!” My short little blonde friend ran towards me, causing me to look up. “Come with me!”
She seemed really excited, as she pulled me up from my chair and out the door at a record speed.

Leading me through the hallways, she pushed through the small crowd that had formed against a wall.
In the middle of a well-used billboard was a strikingly noticeable poster. The edges were crumpled and someone had drawn a few mindless scribbles in it, but nethertheless, it still held my attention at the same high level it did before I noticed it's little flaws.
It was a contest, to write an essay. The prize was a trip to a cluster of islands off the coast of America. Hawaii, I think.
The essay was to write about what life is to you.

“Do you think you can do it?”

I looked back at my friend. Her eyes were wide with hope.
“Please? For me? We can go together! It comes with two tickets.”

I sighed. A little essay wouldn't hurt, would it?

“Sure, Jess.” Her face brightened up.
I smiled back at her, though my smile didn't touch my eyes. She didn't seem to notice.
I really didn't want to go, as I had an extreme fear of water, but its worth it for Jess.

A few years earlier she had been in a severe case of depression. And believe me, I did not want that to happen again. Every new scar I noticed on her skin felt like a punch in the face.
A reminder how bad of a friend I must've been.

Eventually it went away, I don't know how, though. One day she was crying in my arms, the next all the scars on her body disappeared, along with all of the painful memories.

Like new.

Magic.

As grateful as I was for that, I didn't want them to come back. I could almost hear the fear in the back of her mind, scraping its way up, struggling to make her fall back down again.

Yet it never came through.

I managed a smile at that.

Jess pulled on my hand again.
“C'mon! Lets go to the coffee shop, you can write there, right?”

I nodded.

“Great! My treat.” She winked, placing a hand over my mouth before I could protest.

I smiled devilishly.

“Last one there's a rotting egg!” I took off down the street, Jess on my tail.
The coffee shop was only a few blocks from here, we went here all the time.

Jess sped up to me after a while, and we jogged in harmony.
Eventually we came across a large sign. In brown cursive it read, ‘A Sprinkle of Happiness’.

We walked inside, the bells attached to the door jingled as we pushed the heavy door away.

The barista took our orders, and while Jess waited to get the coffee, I opened my laptop on one of the small wooden tables across the room, sitting on a cushioned red stool.
I stared at my reflection in the black of the screen. My dark brown scattered across my shoulders, tickling my cheek. I blew the strand away.
Looking at my reflection seemed so strange, like the person on the other side was a different person. My emerald eyes had a twinkle, seeming so full of hope, much like Jess's innocent blue ones.

But I guess that's how it is.
Small city girls with big dreams. I just hoped I had the chance to fulfill them.

I always wanted to be a writer, take people away from the hardship of life with a book. Transfer them away, possibly change their lives.
That was my goal.
Jess wanted to be an artist, and she was good. Her brush swiping over the canvas in strokes filled with emotion, one glance at a painting was enough to make you cry.

Jess came back over the me, peeking over my shoulder at the laptop. She frowned when she saw it was still off. Poking at the power button, she scolded me.
“Hey, write!” She flicked my nose.
I scrunched my face, swatting her hand away.

“Alright, alright. Go… paint or something.”
Her face lit up and she took a sketchbook and charcoal pencil out of her pack, sketching out a picture.

For the rest of the evening I did what I loved, bickering ever so often with Jess.
I thought through everything; the world's aspirations, the dedication to reach those goals, and I did what I felt I was meant to do.

I wrote.

(Sorry, At the end I kinda derped out. This text isn't revised yet, so be warned.)