Why You Should Use a Treatment to Pitch Your Book or Screenplay Idea

There are many devices and documents a writer can use to catch people’s attention and demonstrate their ability. One of these devices is a treatment.

This document is usually about ten to twenty pages long. The treatment I wrote for my feature film screenplay “Love Never Dies” is 17 pages long. The document describes only the major characters, (protagonist and antagonist)  and perhaps a few secondary characters. It describes the major plot points, events in the story that force the protagonist and antagonist to act or react while pursuing his/her main goal. Some dialogue can be included as well.

This treatment has been read by some agents and producers in La., but just because they read it doesn’t mean they’ll request my screenplay or decide to invest in me. The desired reaction after someone with decision-making power reads the treatment is a request for the screenplay. In my case, the subject matter of my story did not fit the current needs of the industry.

I’m curious to find out how many of my readers would like a look at this treatment and then my first screenplay in a trilogy. I hope to hear from you.

-Geoff-

PS: Because of the value and power of this document, I am asking those who wish to read it to register. Just a simple matter that shows me you are interested in taking a look at my writing and story telling abilities. I’ll email you the password to read the entire treatment.

Summary of Love Never Dies

This is a story of love, death, history and war, where love transcends earthly boundaries and spans lifetimes; where Alexi Kowalski, a young peasant boy, fueled by love and honor will affect his homeland’s future.
Alexi and Katia are soul mates whose love will guide them to reunite after reincarnation. Their lives will see trial, anguish and separation. And redemption.
We begin within moments of Alexi and Katia’s demise. They’ve escaped deadly combat with enemy Russians and bob helplessly in a rowboat on a lake. They relive years of endearing moments shared before their eighteen-month separation. A sharpshooter sights the two, takes aim and fires.
We now revisit what has led them to this place.
The date: winter 1854. The place: Terraminsku forest, Soviet-ruled Poland.
Ambling along a path en route to Katia’s cabin, Alexi is followed by mounted Cossacks. He escapes and ends up at Katia’s doorstep.
Alexi convinces Katia to join him in an innocent scout of a forbidden region of the forest, the swamp. A powerful Russian prince, Leonid, has tracked the two, and watches as Katia falls into the swamp and nearly drowns. The prince desires Katia, confronts Alexi and a looming trilogy of power, will and love has formed.
Change permeates the forest. Alexi’s father, Pietrov has had enough persecution and decides to take his family away. Pietrov secures illegal travel papers but Alexi is compelled to rally one last time against his country’s oppressors. He refuses to say good-bye to Katia without a fight.
Alexi chooses one stormy spring night to revisit the swamp and teach the Russians a lesson. He comes close to Leonid’s camp, but falls into quicksand and is saved by a Polish freedom fighter, Ludmilla Petrashevsty. Ludmilla leads Alexi to the cabin of renowned Polish poet, Zygmunt Krasinski.
Leonid and his Cossacks close in, and Alexi and Ludmilla escape. Krasinski is captured, and Polish freedom fighters (with Alexi in tow) wage equestrian battle in the forest by the swamp in the pouring rain. Krasinski is rescued, and Alexi has had his first taste of battle.
Prince Leonid is incensed by this misstep within his domain. He plans retribution. Will Alexi’s village suffer?
Alexi’s plan to dispel the Cossacks didn’t work. He sits Katia down and tells her their lives together are over. He vows to succeed in America and prays his inner strength will return him to her arms. She promises to wait.
The Kowalskis’ cart their belongings out of the forest, to a dirt road, toward a small town and train station fifty miles away.
After disposing of his family’s lifetime of belongings, Pietrov’s false papers are accepted on the train, and the family rumbles toward the North Sea, eight hours away. The dreams and telepathy between Katia and Alexi persist, hers of savior, his of rivalry.
A tiny sloop, their home for nearly three months, bobs off a rickety pier. They climb the plank and then descend thirty feet down a ladder – and enter the hold – dark, cold, and incessantly moving.
Out at sea, Alexi is handed pencil and paper and appointed the voyage’s journalist.
His new job forces him to assess the society and condition in which he finds himself.
He reads an inspirational letter from the poet, Krasinski, and finds the courage to venture up top, to the deck, where he butts heads with the ships’ skipper, Billy Bang.
Billy takes Alexi on a dangerous shark hunt. A shark is caught, bites Billy, and Alexi ties a tourniquet around Billy’s leg, saving the old salt – for now.
Throughout the crossing, Alexi interviews and observes fellow travelers and sailors. He begins to realize his responsibility – to himself, those around him, and those he loves.
Alexi still dreams of Katia, and it seems the further they drift apart, the more they merge in spirit.
Just after the skipper, Billy Bang succumbs to his wounds, a birth is announced, and the frail newborn lifts his head around the dreary hold – and Alexi scribbles it down in his journal, witness to all.
The ship finally docks at Crystal Garden, quarantine station and last stop before the New York City streets. Alexi tries to view his adventure from on high. He senses a shift, an impending growth within, like a wave nearing a ship at sea.
Love and death. Fear and bravery. Heart and head. He writes in his journal that he now knows these are conflicts he will confront as long as he is strong enough to answer his call. And across the sea, Katia wonders if her love will ever return, as she sees her small village coming apart at the seams.

The above description is a condensation of my first novel of three. In the next two novels, Alexi will become entangled in New York gangland society, flee out west, and eventually sail back to Poland alone, where with a new friend and sidekick, he will pursue and rescue Katia from Prince Leonid.

Another Sample of Love Never Dies

The next few days were uneventful. Alexi walked to work, punched his time card at the enormous factory clock, skirted disaster around the big thudding machine, and made small talk with his coworkers. He had made two deliveries, and earned fifteen dollars.

On a Sunday, Alexi was on his way to the hideout when he passed Stephanova hanging around outside the beauty shop with a few friends. He slowed his walk, and the girls giggled among themselves and stared as he passed.“Hi, Alexi,” one of the girls shouted as he passed the group. He raised his hand and kept walking, hearing the giggles of the girls fade as he continued. Farther down the sidewalk, Alexi passed a fellow by himself, Tom, leaning against a building, eyeing the girls and gnawing on a toothpick. Tom didn’t notice Alexi; he was enraptured by the small crowd of girls.

A shiver ran down Alexi’s spine as he passed Tom, so he slowed his stride for a moment, and decided to turn around and observe. He crossed the street, and walked the other direction, chancing a quick glance in the direction of this lecher. He strolled a few blocks, and stood at a busy street corner, glancing back at the group of girls and Tom watching them. The girls were too caught up in their conversations to notice they were being watched  —  by Alexi, or Tom leaning against the nearby building.

Alexi stood there frozen, hoping for a cue as to how to proceed. He felt like a wolf sizing up its pray. He allowed the activity and energy of the busy avenue to wrap him in its cloak. Tom took the toothpick from his mouth, tossed it into the street, and began walking toward the group of girls.Alexi’s blood thudded through his veins, and his face burned. He glanced around and saw Fred coming out of a nearby store. Alexi turned and approached the boy, who looked at him with recognition as he approached.

“Go get the fellas,” Alexi said as he leaned in toward the boy. Fred turned and ran down the sidewalk, dodging the strollers, drunks, and prostitutes. Alexi watched Tom walk to the girls, speak to them briefly a moment, and lead one away down the sidewalk.

Alexi felt the urge to kill within him. He clenched and unclenched his fists, and squeezed the gaslight pole he leaned against and watched the alley where Tom had the girl. He bummed a cigarette from a person walking by and lit it, hoping it would help him pass the time until Fred returned with the gang.

Just as Alexi threw down the spent cigarette, Fred ran up to him, out of breath, and turned around. Alexi looked down the sidewalk. The boy had brought four others, aged fifteen to twenty-one. The boss was among them. “Where’s Scott?” he said. “Church, with his mom and sisters.” Alexi turned his gaze to the alley across the street. The fellows looked. Alexi spoke over his shoulder, “That alley  —  he took her into it. That’s where he raped my sister. Wait a few minutes then we hit him.”

He looked at Stephanova talking with her friends. “I want to make sure he’s the guy, then we go, okay?” They all nodded. As Alexi spoke these words to the gang, he wondered where the words came from. He wondered why he was disobeying his father. He felt guilty, dirty, and wondered if there was some way he could undo his command to Fred to “go get the fellas.” But, the love and compassion he felt for his trusting and naïve sister as he looked at her with her friends brought a lump to his throat and an ache to his heart.

“Give me a cigarette,” Alexi demanded. The boss stepped forward, and handed him one, lighting it for him. Alexi put the cigarette in his mouth, and made his way across the street. He dodged a few wagons and horses and arrived on the opposite sidewalk. He walked up to Stephanova, and got her attention while the other girls clammed up and looked him over. “That guy, the one who took your friend over there,” he pointed toward the alleyway with his thumb. Stephanova stiffened up, and gave her full attention to Alexi. “Is he the one that…?” Stephanova looked to the sidewalk, then to her friends, then she met Alexi’s stare. She nodded. “He paid me,” she said softly. “That doesn’t matter,” Alexi said, then turned away from her and nodded to the gang across the street.

They all crossed the street and in a minute were at his side as he quickly walked down the sidewalk toward the alley. No one spoke. A few boys looked to Alexi for direction. He rounded the corner and entered the alley, the gang filing in behind him. Tom was twenty feet down the alley, around the corner of a protruding doorway. The girl was on her knees, her right hand firmly grasping his pole.

Alexi put his arm out straight, and the gang stopped in its tracks. Tom hadn’t noticed that he was being observed, but the girl slowed the action of her right hand, and glanced over at the boys. She moved her head back, and Tom grasped her by the hair to coax her to resume. Alexi slowly walked forward and met Tom’s half-closed eyes, which in a minute opened wide while he attempted to push away the girl and put his penis back in his pants.Inside his body, Alexi wrestled with the choice of lunging out or slowly advancing.

He felt no need for decorum while Tom tried to use both his hands to get rid of his awkward erection. Alexi’s inner turmoil made him seethe, and he stood there for a few seconds, feeling his inner energy rise. It rose through his feet and his legs, to his gut, where it expanded, and he felt sick to his stomach, but he remained, his gaze finally resting on Tom’s eyes, where Alexi saw terror.

Alexi moved forward to Tom, in his face in a second, feeling Tom’s puffy breath on his cheeks. He reached out a hand, put it to Tom’s neck, and clenched. The gang had moved up behind him, and stood ready with adrenalin coursing through their veins. Alexi, his hand to Tom’s neck, his crew behind him decided it was time to talk. “So you think you’re hot, mister.” Tom tried to gulp for air. “You think you can grab girls off the street, take them back here, give them a few bucks, and have them suck you off.”

Tom tried to gulp air again, but his windpipe was constricted, and he reached up a hand and began to squirm. He was afraid for his life. Alexi’s hand tightened at Tom’s  throatand Tom had all ten fingernails scraping at Alexi’s hand, trying to escape. Then Tom decided he must fight or perish. He brought a knee up and connected with Alexi’s groin, and Alexi released his grip, and buckled from the blow.

“Get him guys,” the boss commanded. The seething gang advanced on Tom, and held nothing back while they slammed their fists into his face, his chest, his gut, and made him double over.Alexi slowly rose, and saw the boss slam his own fist into Tom’s face. Tom’s head flew back into the brick wall, and he still continued to try to fight back.

As blood poured from his nose and mouth, the boss grabbed Tom by the hair, held his head steady, and brought around a brutal right hook that threw Tom’s head into the wall again. Alexi heard a crack, like melon splitting, and Tom’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped down, unconscious, like a felled tree. As Alexi watched, horrified, the gang members punched Tom’s face, and slammed their fists into his jaw, even though his arms now lay limp at his side.

The fear that coursed through Alexi’s veins brought him to his feet, and he tried to pry the boss from Tom, but was thrown back in the dirt. The boss continued to pummel Tom’s limp jaw until his knuckles were raw and bleeding, and then Tom was nothing more than a pile of bones, and blood seeped from his eyes, his ears, his head, and his mouth.

Alexi rose, and stood next to the gang as they looked with hatred at the dead boy. They all moved back a few steps. Alexi turned his attention to the girl who had stood and watched the mutilation. Another surge began to rise up in Alexi’s body, and he surveyed the scene. He felt the shock that comes from witnessing such raw violence. He remembered the battle at Terraminsku river, but felt that was different.   “How do you like that?” the boss said. “I didn’t think we were going to kill him,” Alexi said. “Too bad now,” the boss said, straightened his clothing and sauntered from the alley.

Alexi knew he had to tend to evidence, the body. He was the leader now. He looked around, allowing his thoughts to come to him, like fish nibbling at bait. He breathed deep and turned to meet the eyes of the boys in the gang. He lifted an arm and waved at the boys, who moved into a group, and looked to him for guidance. “Let’s get him out of here,” Alexi said.

As a spider’s web can be dispersed by a stiff downpour, the minds of the boys in Alexi’s small gang began to clear and to come back to life, and one of the older fellows stepped forward and spoke. “Maybe we should get a carpet or a big box and put him in it.” Alexi pondered that idea for a moment, and said, “Good, a box or a carpet.”

With a small task at hand, the fellows in the group shuffled around, looked to each other for direction, and began to disperse. The older fellow who had mentioned the box or carpet moved toward the bloody mess on the alley street and knelt down, looking the body over and thinking to himself. He stuffed one hand into the dead boy’s pocket, and then the other, and brought out a small bundle of dollar bills and a key. He inspected the items, and  then turned to Alexi who was looking right through him. “Should we split it?” he asked. “What?” Alexi said, snapped back to the reality of the incident. “Split the money.” He counted out the money. “He has fourteen dollars. Maybe we can each take a few for ourselves.”

Alexi thought for a minute and nodded. The boy rose, peeled back four dollars from the bundle, jammed them into his pocket, and handed the rest of the money to Alexi. Alexi looked down at the money in his hands, and counted it. He had ten. Alexi looked up from the dollar bills, reviewed the alley, and hoped that all this mess surrounding him would turn out to be a dream.What have I done, he asked himself.

He glanced around the alley, hoping for some answer to his question, but none came. He looked down at the mangled mass of bloody flesh on the ground, and knew that his life had changed forever. A chill ran through his bones, and he invoked a silent prayer, sent to any nearby angels who may have the power to intervene, that if he should ever make it out of this trouble, he would devote his lifetime to answering and fulfilling the angel’s needs.

He tried to propel his thoughts to another place, a place where his only thoughts and worries were of the possible punishment he might incur if he wandered home late for dinner, or with torn pants. He longed for the time and place of relative innocence, of nature, birds, wood ducks, beaver, and bear. He felt that if he could just retrieve that state of mind, that feeling, if only for an instant, that it would refresh his taut body and tormented soul.

He felt a sense of urgency, a need to change, to start fresh, and put his current life style and forthcoming demons behind him and at rest.The fellows returned to the alley, lugging a flimsy cardboard box, and dropped it down into the dirt at the feet of the dead boy.

Alexi was yanked back into the present and had to respond to life’s immediate needs. “What do we do now?” little Bobby said as he tipped his cap back on his head and gazed up at Alexi for leadership.“Put him in the box,” Alexi said, with a face that put the boys into immediate action. They grabbed Tom’s floppy arms and legs, and shoved the rumpled bloody mass into the box, and one of the fellows in the group took a role of tape and wrapped up the package at the loose ends.“Now, put this in the river, and we can all go back to our daily business,” Alexi said, and the big, bulky box was hauled away, and only a bright puddle of blood was left at Alexi’s feet, and he kicked a bunch of dirt into the puddle, and all evidence of the crime was covered.

As Alexi turned and headed out of the alley, set foot on the sidewalk, and aimed his feet toward his family’s apartment, he felt like weeping, and so avoided the gazes of the cute girls who stood giggling in front of the beauty shop.

A Little Taste From Love Never Dies

By Geoffrey Zimmerman

“My men — I’m got. He’s bit me, the son of a whale. Quick, Raymond, or he’ll have all of me.” Raymond plunged the dagger into the shark’s neck, and brought it around, releasing gushing quarts of blood into the dingy.

“He’s still got me, Raymond. He’s taking my leg.” The shark held fast to Billy’s leg, even in death.

None aboard knew what to do. Billy grasped his leg with both hands, and tried to pry it loose, but only sliced his leg deeper.

***

The sailors aboard ship had witnessed the shark’s capture, seen Billy haul it aboard the dingy, and now commanded Alexi, Bertram and Raymond to row the dingy back. Spry, wiry sailors stood atop the yardarm, tested the block and tackle, and threw ropes into the sea, ready to hoist the dingy.

Bertram and Raymond took the oars, and feverishly rowed against the choppy sea toward the ship, fifty yards distant. Alexi moved across the center bench, placed his feet atop the quivering shark, and surveyed the injury done to Billy’s leg. “Is it bad, my son? It feels like he’s decided to eat my leg for lunch.”

“Give me your sash,” Alexi commanded. Billy laid back, unwound the sash from around his waist, and handed it to Alexi.

Alexi placed his hands directly alongside the shark’s enormous mouth and bloody teeth – he saw clumps of Billy’s leg held in the animal’s mouth, dripping blood – one open gash pumped blood at regular intervals into the shark’s mouth.

Alexi wrapped the sash around Billy’s thigh, and cinched it tight. “This will keep you from bleeding to death,” he said. “It’s bad then?” Billy said, becoming lethargic and pale. “Yes, but when we get aboard, they’ll do more.”

“The ship’s surgeon is a drunkard,” Billy said.

“I’ll be with you,” Alexi said.

“My dear boy, you’ll see me to the end, won’t you?” Alexi nodded.

***

The sailors hoisted the dingy in minutes, and dropped it to the deck. The ship’s surgeon, Walter Riley, a sailor himself and experienced with birth, death and all matters medical, hovered outside the mob. The sailors crowded the dingy, gawking. Some shouted, “Get him off the boat,” “watch that leg,” “beware the shark’s teeth.” A few sailors helped Alexi, Bertram, and Raymond pour the shark and Billy onto the deck. Billy said little; only cursed when he was moved. The circle of sailors opened, allowing Riley to approach. His eyes were riveted on Billy’s leg. He set down his bag, knelt at Billy’s side, and inspected the wound. “Let me have your knife,” he commanded Bertram. The sailors stepped back a few feet as Bertram handed the bloodied twelve-inch knife to the surgeon. The sailor’s eyes widened as Riley hefted the knife, and moved toward Billy.

Some sailors were fascinated, others turned away, and some newcomers were moments from throwing up. They believed the surgeon was preparing to remove Billy’s leg on deck, and would toss it over the ship’s bulwarks to the circling sharks below.

Riley instead pointed the long knife like a needle at an area just beneath the shark’s milky eye. He placed both hands on the knife’s handle, settled and braced himself – and pushed. The knife sounded as if it were penetrating dense wet sand. He twisted the knife, blood ran from the gash, and spread across the deck to the sailor’s boots.

“Come here, boy,” he commanded to a nearby sailor. The wide-eyed boy knelt on the deck. “Put your hand in that gash I just made, and spread the hole.” The sailor secured himself on the deck, and did as the surgeon asked. Riley placed a hand on the shark’s upper jaw, the other on the lower, and as the sailor’s hand disappeared beneath the shark’s eye, Riley spread the shark’s jaws.

“Take Mister Bang from that shark,” he shouted. Bertram and Alexi grabbed Billy under the arms, and slid him across the deck.

“Onto the litter, boys,” he said, and the ring of sailors opened so Billy could be propped onto the cloth and pole litter. Alexi grabbed one pole, Bertram beside him had the other, and Raymond and another sailor held the other two.

“To his quarters,” Riley said. Riley pulled himself to his feet, and staggered behind the loaded litter, wiping his bloodied hands on his pants.

My Inspiration for "Love Never Dies"

Love Never Dies Book I Background from JointVentureLightning on Vimeo.

I have always been intrigued and moved by life stories.

I saw The Story of Miss Jane Pittman years ago, and it got me thinking: why do these stories end when the person dies? I believe in reincarnation and soul mates. I am naturally romantic, have been in some very heavy relationships that just didn’t seem fated to work out. Timing, geographical hurdles, and culture all conspired to impinge on what I had believed would become romantic bliss.

I write what I know.

Several times throughout my life I have left lovers with the purpose of making my fortune, to return and prove my love to my awaiting sweetheart. I’ve been disappointed.

My stories in the “Love Never Dies” trilogy all carry the thread of adventure, journey, and destiny.
Book One highlights the male protagonist’s physical journey, trials, and return to his beloved.
Book Two highlights an inner journey that the female protagonist must undertake.
Book Three is designed to entwine the two threads, placing both characters together in an inner and outer journey that leads to inseparable bonding – uniting the two soul mates at the very end.

Being a romantic I feel the need to add true love, dedication, and commitment to the list of literary works, instilling in the reader the importance of these values… especially in today’s “me first” culture.
– Geoff

Romantic Adventure Novel "Love Never Dies" Now Available Online

Hi.

This is Geoff. Thanks for stopping by my new web site.

To show my appreciation to all of you wonderful fans out there, I have decided to make the first 29 Chapters of my new romantic adventure novel available by FREE subscription.

You can read the Prologue to get a little taste of the story then simply subscribe to continue getting chapters every few days or so. It’s totally free to subscribe.

Here’s a sample of what the critics are saying.

Captivating…
I found myself both entertained and captivated following a ‘preview’ reading of “Love Never Dies.” Geoffrey Zimmerman created characters that take on a life of their own and leave you wanting to know more. He wasted no time allowing his readers to get to know Alexi and Katia. Time will be well spent with this reading and encouraging this author to share more of his warmth and talent. For a love story that will allow you to feel their passion I highly recommend a copy of this book!
–by Tonya Welch

I respect your privacy and promise to never sell, rent or trade your contact information with anyone. So go ahead and take a look.

Also, I have published some of my short stories and poetry on here for your reading pleasure.

Be sure to check back from time to time as I hope to be adding plenty of new content and perhaps even some audio versions of “Love Never Dies.”

If you can’t wait for the first 29 chapters to arrive by e-mail then you can download the entire 497 page book for just $14.00 with PayPal and begin enjoying the complete novel right away.

Thanks again for stopping by.

Sincerely,

Geoff Zimmerman, Author