Hi everyone,
I wanted to share a scene from my novel, The Evidence, to get some feedback on the comedic tone and pacing.
This is a dark comedy scene where Jack, a trauma surgeon, is called to the hospital in the middle of the night—only to find his brother Mark in a... very unexpected situation.
What I love about this scene is how it balances absurd humor with genuine family dynamics. The dialogue between Jack, his parents, and his siblings feels real, even as the situation becomes more and more ridiculous.
I'm looking for honest feedback on:
Pacing — Does the scene flow?
Dialogue — Does each character sound distinct?
Humor — Does it land, or does it feel forced?
Full novel available upon request. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 8 The singing Patient.
Sarah lay wrapped up in her bed, a small quiet spot in the peaceful house. The soft colors of her blanket seemed to soak up the gentle glow of the nightlight that made a soft circle of light around her. Her tiny chest moved up and down with the slow, steady rhythm of childhood sleep, her face calm and unworried. One small arm was wrapped safely around Barnaby, her much-loved teddy bear, whose once-fluffy fur now showed the matted proof of countless nighttime hugs and whispered secrets.
The door to her room creaked open with barely a sound, and Jack peered inside. The sight of his sleeping daughter always made him feel calm, a steadying force in his often-troubled life. He stood there for a long moment, his gaze soft and lingering, taking in the quiet innocence that came from her. With a gentle sigh, he turned, pulling the door almost closed behind him, leaving just a tiny opening, enough to let the comforting glow of the nightlight spill into the dark hallway.
He turned towards the master bedroom, pushing the door open with a bit more force than intended, only to be met with a surprising sight. Rachael emerged from the shadows, a playful glint in her eyes. Any words Jack might have uttered were lost as Rachael stepped forward, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him into a passionate kiss.
The dimly lit room, bathed in the soft glow of the moon coming through the window without curtains, became their private safe place. Their lips met with a familiar urgency, a silent language of wanting and connection after a day apart. Their bodies moved together, a warm hug that promised deeper closeness. The air buzzed with a strong energy, the years of their relationship having only made the electric current between them stronger.
But the fragile bubble of their intimacy was suddenly broken by the insistent buzz of Jack’s phone on the nightstand. Rachael pulled back slightly, her eyes pleading, “Don’t,” her voice a soft whisper against his lips. But the phone screen showed “my mom.” A wave of guilt and disappointment washed over Jack. He knew he had to answer.
Reluctantly, he reached for the phone, his fingers brushing against Rachael’s hand, a silent apology passing between them. He answered, his voice low and tinged with hesitation, the earlier passion now overshadowed by a feeling of bad things to come.
“Hey, Mom,” he said, his voice softer than usual.
His mother’s voice on the other end was trembling, the urgency cutting through the static of the line like a sharp knife. “Jack, you need to come to the hospital. It’s your brother.”
Jack’s heart sank, a cold dread gripping him. “Mark? Is he okay? What happened?” His voice tightened with worry, the image of his often-careless younger brother flashing through his mind.
His mother’s voice was strained, almost breaking. “I can’t explain this over the phone, Jack. You need to be here ASAP.” The raw emotion in her tone sent a fresh wave of anxiety through him.
“Okay, Mom,” Jack replied, already moving, pulling away from Rachael. His voice was tense but determined. “I’m on my way. I’m hauling ass.”
He turned to Rachael, his face filled with disappointment and frustration. The weight of the unknown hung heavily in his eyes, his lips parting as if to say something – anything – to explain the cruel interruption. But the words caught in his throat, replaced by a silent, apologetic look that said more than he could voice.
“Honey, I’m sorry…” he began, his voice low, “but I need to leave. Right now.”
Rachael’s brows wrinkled, concern flickering in her eyes, replacing the earlier excitement. “What happened? Was that your mom on the phone?”
Jack was already pulling on a shirt, his movements quick and upset. “Yeah… it’s about Mark. She wouldn’t tell me what’s wrong. I just—I hope he’s okay.”
Rachael watched him dress, her face a mix of worry and understanding. “Call me, okay? Let me know what’s going on.”
Jack nodded briefly, his mind already racing ahead. Under his breath, frustration and worry mixed in his tone. “out of all the nights… it had to be this one. Last time, it was monsters. I wonder what it is this time!” He grabbed his keys and headed for the door, the promise of their interrupted evening hanging heavy in the air.
***
Jack pushed through the automatic hospital doors, the familiar, clean smell of antiseptic hitting his nose. Before he could even get his bearings, Emily, a striking nurse with sharp, smart features and a warm, though currently amused, smile, stepped directly into his path.
“Back so soon?” she asked, her eyebrow slightly raised in playful curiosity.
Jack was out of breath, his voice tight with a lingering urgency from his mother’s frantic call. “Hey, Emily, my brother Mark. Admitted tonight. Where is he?”
Emily paused, her face changing to one of understanding, a hint of amusement on her lips. “Mark Jackson? That’s your brother?”
“Yeah, that’s him,” Jack confirmed, his voice strained, his worry for his brother clear. “Where is he? Is he okay?”
Emily let out a small, nervous laugh, a mix of surprise and what seemed like unwilling amusement in her tone. “Oh, shit—he’s in Room 3. Good luck.”
Jack frowned, a knot of confusion and a growing sense of dread tightening in his stomach. “What the heck is going on…?” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible.
He rushed down the hallway, his long steps covering the distance, nearly bumping into Ken, a seasoned surgeon with his usual knowing smirk firmly in place. Ken’s eyes widened in a mix of amusement and disbelief as he saw Jack.
“Hey, Jack,” Ken chuckled, shaking his head slowly. “You’re not going to believe what your brother did this time.”
Jack stopped dead in his tracks, his voice a tight mix of frustration and genuine worry. “What did he do, Ken?”
Ken, already walking away, tossed the words over his shoulder with a broad smirk. “You’ve gotta see it for yourself.”
Jack stepped into Room 3, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the strange scene.
His dad, Jackson, his hair now more silver than dark but his posture still strong and straight at sixty, stood near the window with his arms crossed, a slightly amused shake of his head the only outward sign of his reaction. Beside him stood Valerie, his striking mother, her face a carefully controlled blend of concern and held-back laughter. Cindy, Jack’s sharp and no-nonsense younger sister, stood slightly apart, her arms crossed, her face a mix of shock and complete disbelief.
And on the bed, grinning like a satisfied cat, lay Mark. A suspiciously large and stiff bulge tented the blankets over his lower half. Jack froze, his eyes narrowing, his medical training struggling to make sense of the absurd reality before him.
“What the hell is going on here?” Jack’s voice was low, disbelieving.
Jackson sighed, shaking his head again, a dry amusement in his tone. “You’re not gonna believe this one, son.”
“Believe me, Dad,” Jack said, his voice laced with annoyance. “I’m a doctor—I’ve seen it all. So, what’s so urgent? Clearly, he’s not dead.”
Jackson threw his hands up in the air, his voice a mix of frustration and disbelief. “Worse than death—your brother took some Viagra’s!”
Jack’s eyes widened, his voice dropping to a stunned whisper. “Oh, Shit.”
He pointed a disbelieving finger at the noticeable bulge under the blanket. “Is that… what I think it is?”
Valerie, her face serious, shook her head slowly. “Yeah, son. That’s a whole lot of… erection.”
Jack turned to Mark, his voice sharp with professional concern overriding his disbelief. “Mark, how many did you take?”
Mark, still grinning like an idiot, replied with a carefree shrug. “I took six… or seven. I lost count.”
Valerie turned to Jack, her initial amusement replaced by a flicker of genuine concern. “Is he going to die?”
Jack sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I hope not. There ain’t a Casket big enough for him… and no underwear ever kept that monster in check. but if he dies and God forbid we have to bury him with no underwear.”
Cindy, who had been silent until now, finally broke her stunned silence, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and disbelief. “I… I can’t believe what I am seeing right now.”
Mark, not understanding how serious the situation was, grinned playfully. “What you’re seeing? That’s called living. You’ve gotta take risks, sis.”
Jackson smirked, his tone dripping with dry humor. “Yeah, well… that’s exactly why I married your mother.”
Valerie raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow, her tone sharp but playful. “Excuse me? So, I was a risk, huh?”
“No, honey,” Jackson corrected smoothly. “The years I’ve spent with you? Every second’s been priceless.”
“Priceless, huh?” Valerie replied sarcastically. “Like that time you tried to put together the crib and it fell apart in the middle of the night?”
Jackson chuckled. “Hey, that crib was like our life—unpredictable but worth it.”
“Unpredictable?” Valerie countered playfully. “More like a never-ending roller coaster.”
Jackson’s tone softened, becoming thoughtful. “Look at us all here together. It’s amazing how it all began with just the two of us.”
“Oh, I remember how hard we worked to make Jack,” Valerie teased, a nostalgic smile on her lips. “Endless nights, and he still didn’t wanna come out!”
“That tiny, shy sperm fought his way out, and now look at him—my big boy,” Jackson added, teasing but with a clear note of pride.
Cindy, her patience clearly running thin, cut in impatiently. “Can we focus? We’ve got a crisis on our hands!”
“crisis? Please,” Jackson scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m more entertained than I’ve been in ages. The last time I was this amused, oh yeah, it was when you were conceived.”
“Oh, darling, that night! Magic. Candles, music, the air just crackled,” Valerie remembered, a dreamy look in her eyes.
Cindy rolled her eyes, her sarcasm thick. “Oh, here we go again. I wonder who’s been popping Viagra this time.”
Mark chuckled from the bed. “Man, they’re total relationship goals. I’m ready to find a wife, like, yesterday.”
Jack sighed, rubbing his temples tiredly. “I need a drink.”
Their family chatter was interrupted by Mark, still grinning from his lying-down spot. “Hey, Dad, what about me? How was I conceived ?”
Jackson chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, you? You were a happy accident.”
Valerie playfully swatted Jackson’s arm. “Don’t listen to him, Mark. You were… planned spontaneously.”
“Planned spontaneously? That’s one way to put it,” Jackson teased, a twinkle in his eye.
“It was a rainy night,” Valerie recalled, a nostalgic smile returning. “Your dad surprised me with dinner, candles, and… well, let’s just say dessert was very sweet.”
“And nine months later, out came Mark—our little bundle of chaos,” Jackson finished with a grin.
“Chaos? I prefer to think of it as living life to the fullest,” Mark declared with a wave of his hand.
Cindy rolled her eyes again, her sarcasm dripping. “Yeah, and now we’re all here dealing with the consequences.”
Jack muttered, grabbing his head. “I need a very strong drink.”
“Welcome to the family, son!” Jackson clapped Jack on the shoulder, his amusement still clear.
Cindy grabbed her bag. “Alright, I’m out. Early morning calls.”
“I’ve got this,” Jack said, his tone firm. “You all go home. I’ll make sure he stays put. No one’s safe with him around.”
Jackson pointed a knowing finger at the bulge under Mark’s blanket. “You sure you’re gonna be okay with that thing hanging around?”
“I’ve got this,” Jack insisted, a tired determination in his voice. “Trust me.”
Valerie approached Jack, her earlier amusement replaced by a soft concern. “Son, if anything happens—anything—you call me, okay?”
As his parents and sister were about to leave, Mark called out from the bed, his grin still firmly in place. “Hey, Dad, help me find a wife! I’ve got this,” he gestured suggestively to the blanket, “to share, and I don’t want to keep it to myself!”
Jackson chuckled, shaking his head but with a wide smile. “Consider it done, son.”
“Bye, Mark,” Valerie said, a fond shake of her head accompanying her words.
The door shut behind them, and Jack sank heavily into the nearest chair, exhaustion finally catching up with him. Before he could even settle, the door burst open again, and Emily strode in, her sharp features framed by a raised eyebrow.
“Jack? You’re still around?” she asked, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.
Jack shrugged, a tired smile touching his own. “Looks that way.”
“You’re tired. Go home. I’ll keep an eye on him,” Emily offered, her tone surprisingly sincere.
Jack grinned wryly. “No way. One more thing goes down, and this place might as well be a brothel.”
Mark turned his head towards Emily, his grin widening. “Come on, let her stay. She looks fun.”
“Not happening, Mark,” Jack said sternly, shooting his brother a warning look.
“Come on,” Mark pleaded earnestly. “I swear we’re only gonna talk.”
“Talk? Sure. And then what?” Jack replied, his doubt clear.
“Anyway, see you around guys,” Emily said, a knowing smile on her lips as she turned to leave.
“Bye, Emily!” Mark called after her cheerfully.
The door clicked shut, and a temporary silence settled over the room. Mark, his playful grin firmly in place, looked around, his eyes gleaming with playful energy. Then, he started to sing, his voice surprisingly loud and off-key
♪ Baby, I’m burning, can’t cool this fire
♪ ♪Took too many, now I’m climbing higher
♪ ♪Bro’s by my side, eyes full of worry
♪ ♪ Trying’ to stop this midnight fury
Jack, who had slumped further into the chair beside Mark’s bed, rubbing his temples in tired resignation, froze. Mark’s singing stopped him cold. His head snapped up, his eyes wide with a mix of horror and disbelief.
“You got to be kidding me right now!” he muttered under his breath, his voice horrified.
He shot out of the chair and rushed to the door, flinging it open. His eyes scanned the quiet hallway, searching desperately. At the far end, he spotted Emily walking away, her coat draped over her arm.
“Emily!” Jack called out urgently, trying to keep his voice down.
Emily turned, a concerned look on her face. “What’s wrong? Is it Mark?”
Jack grabbed her arm gently, pulling her closer. “Yes, it’s Mark. He’s—” He glanced back into the room, lowering his voice secretly. “—he’s singing.”
Emily blinked, her face completely confused. “Singing?”
Jack nodded sharply, his voice tight with desperation. “Yeah. And if he starts… getting ideas, I need you, I don’t know, to sedate him or something.
Emily raised a doubtful eyebrow, a wide smirk now on her lips. She crossed her arms, clearly amused by Jack’s growing panic. “sedate him ? For singing?”
Jack gestured wildly towards the closed door of the room. “It’s not just singing! It’s—” He paused, struggling to find the right polite word. “—it’s that kind of singing. You know, the kind that leads to… other things.”
Emily’s smirk widened, and she shook her head slowly, clearly enjoying Jack’s discomfort a lot. “Oh, I see. So you’re saying your brother’s got a little… stage fright?”
Jack groaned, running a hand roughly through his already messy hair. “This isn’t funny, Emily. I’m serious. If he starts—”
Before Jack could finish his increasingly frantic plea, Mark’s voice drifted out from the room, louder and even more excited than before.
♪ Medical healing,
♪ ♪ Got me reeling,
♪ ♪ Can’t stop this feeling,
♪ ♪ Need your healing — oh yeah
Jack’s eyes widened in true horror. He grabbed Emily’s arm again, his grip tightening slightly in his desperation. “Please. Just… do something.”
Emily chuckled, clearly enjoying the absurdity of the situation, but she finally nodded and stepped past Jack into the room. Jack stayed in the doorway, watching nervously as Emily approached Mark’s bed with a calm, professional manner that hid the ridiculousness of the request.
“Alright, Mr. Jackson,” Emily said, her voice calm and professional. “Let’s keep the concert to a minimum, okay?”
Mark grinned up at her, completely unfazed by her presence. “What? You don’t like my voice?”
Emily smirked. “Oh, I love it. But I think the rest of the hospital might not appreciate your… excitement.”
Mark laughed, clearly enjoying the attention. Jack watched from the doorway, his shoulders tense, ready to step in if things escalated into the “other things” he so desperately wanted to avoid. Emily shot him a reassuring glance over her shoulder, her face now calm and composed.
“Relax, Doc,” she mouthed to Jack, a playful smirk still lingering. “I’ve got this under control.”
Jack exhaled deeply, running a tired hand over his face. He muttered under his breath as he finally stepped back into the room, keeping a careful eye on his singing brother.
“Too old for this nonsense,” he mumbled, rubbing his tired eyes.
while Emily attending to calm mark Jack went out of the room and pushed into the small, sterile hospital bathroom and slammed the door. He leaned over the sink, the cold porcelain the only thing keeping him grounded. He looked at his reflection—the “World-Class Surgeon”—and saw a man who had been seconds away from paradise, only to be interrupted by a six-Viagra concert.
JACK: (Whispering to the mirror, teeth clenched) “Why is this happening? All I wanted was to be with my wife. That’s why I married her! If this goes on… if one more person talks to me about ‘spontaneous planning’ or ‘midnight fury’… I’m done. I’m quitting. I’m joining a monastery. I’m gonna be a priest. At least they have some peace and quiet!”
Will Berend getting a mentor review and submitting to a festival with your first script is already ahead of where most first time writers are. For next steps beyond festivals script coverage from a pr...
Expand commentWill Berend getting a mentor review and submitting to a festival with your first script is already ahead of where most first time writers are. For next steps beyond festivals script coverage from a professional analyst can give you a fresh perspective on what is working and what still needs attention before it goes out more widely. Happy to share more about what that looks like if it would be useful.
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Congrats on getting your first screenplay done. I’d say keep getting feedback as you rewrite, but also start building a list of people who work with your type of film. The outreach can take time, so don’t get discouraged if you don’t hear back right away.
2 people like this
Congratulations Will Berend - that's fantastic. And it sounds like you're already doing all the right things. I will echo what Joshua Young said and perhaps let it breathe for a short while, then come...
Expand commentCongratulations Will Berend - that's fantastic. And it sounds like you're already doing all the right things. I will echo what Joshua Young said and perhaps let it breathe for a short while, then come back to it. You'll likely notice things you'd change. Then send it out again. Consider submitting the first 10 pages to script services and see where that lands. After you've done that, submit to your mentor once again.
1 person likes this
Will BerendCongrats on finishing your first script and getting it under 120 pages — that rewrite grind is real! Sounds like you're already doing a lot right with outreach and festival submissions.
If y...
Expand commentWill BerendCongrats on finishing your first script and getting it under 120 pages — that rewrite grind is real! Sounds like you're already doing a lot right with outreach and festival submissions.
If you ever want another set of eyes before your next round of submissions, I offer script formatting, editing, and honest feedback to help scripts feel industry-ready. Happy to help if it's useful — wishing you the best with the biopic!
Congratulations, and first and foremost copy-write it with the WGA east or west. Try to analyze feedback properly. I always ask if it had impact, if you get a chance from an executive to read it. But...
Expand commentCongratulations, and first and foremost copy-write it with the WGA east or west. Try to analyze feedback properly. I always ask if it had impact, if you get a chance from an executive to read it. But make sure it’s really done first which takes time. Maybe we all make that mistake. Good luck with everything and your stories journey.