Monologue Rough Draft

So I did a very quick rough draft to have an idea of what I want to talk about. I think I have to cut a lot of "my son" because I repeat this a lot of times; it is good to repeat them, but not this much, but this is just a rough draft so it's okay; I am expecting on doing a lot of changes to it on Monday. I have added there a lot about before and after that I feel is not quite important and I can cut down, but for now, it is a good start. I like the end of it and I like the sound of desperation in her words at certain moments because that was her; she was a very introvertive person that didn't really stand up for herself, so she is quite calmed down, but there are certain parts where it is good to see the desperation she is hiding within her. I am not a fan of my monologue right now and I know I have to made a lot of changes, but it's a good start for now and I hope on Monday I can perfection it much more and really condense it to what is important and to what is going to affect and emotionally transmit to the audience which is what I want, and I do not feel I have reached this yet.


Here's my rough draft:

My name is Christine Collins. On March 10^th 1928, my son, Walter Collins disappeared. I had promised him that I was going to take him out that day, but my job called me at the last moment and I had leave. I felt something was wrong from the moment I shut the door behind me. When I came back, he wasn’t there anymore. I called the police but they told me they had a policy that you had to wait 24 hours for the police to look for him. I stayed awake all night; but he never came. A 5-month investigation led to a boy being found in DeKalb Illinois. They told me and all of you that this boy was my son; he is not my son. When I first saw this boy I knew he wasn’t my son but the agent insisted that I was in shock and that the boy had changed in this past 5 months because of the trauma. He told me: Mrs. Collins, he has nowhere else to go. So I convinced myself that I was in shock and that this boy was my son, but when I took him home I noticed that this boy was circumcises while Walter wasn’t. I put him against the wall to see his height; I measured Walter every month and this boy was inches smaller than the last time I had measured him. I went directly to the police, but they weren’t listening to me. They told me that trauma could affect the growth of children and his spine could have shrunk. I didn’t understand why they weren’t listening to me; that boy was not my son. They kept telling me that I was running away from my responsibilities as a mother. No I am not, I am even taking care of that boy there, but they had stopped looking for my son. I have given the L.A pd every opportunity to admit their mistake and renew the search for my son since they refuse to do so it forced me to bring my case public and I hope this will make them open their eyes and bring my son home to me. The department has made a terrible mistake and they have to please help me find my son before its too late. They are wasting time when they could be looking for my son; I don’t understand why they are ignoring me; why they keep telling me that that boy is my son when I am the mother; I know who my son is. When I finished with the press, that’s when they called me and told me I was a troublemaker and a liar and out of nowhere they took me to the L.A psychopathic ward calming that I suffered from paranoia, delusions of persecution, and dislocation from reality. I couldn’t believe what was happening; I felt so betrayed, so useless. But after some weeks passed the pastor of my church was able to get me out. I am here because I wanted the truth to be known and what this police department has done to me and to my son. But the only thing I care about now is finding my son; I beg them to please renew my case and start looking for my son. I can still feel him, please, I beg you, I just want my son back.

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