|This is me at about the age when I created the screenplay.|
After I finished writing, I went around the neighborhood soliciting children for auditions. I awarded parts, held rehearsals and goaded the 'actors' into memorizing their lines. I also designed all of the costumes culled mainly from my mother's endless craft and sewing supplies.
One of my favorite characters was a speaking tree. I convinced the tallest twelve-year-old boy with very red hair to play the part. I wrapped a leopard-print beach towel around him (as bark) and had him hold a bright pink parasol (for blossoms). He did it willingly! I think I must have had great powers of persuasion back then.
I cast the youngest kids in non-speaking roles as "villagers." Their parts involved milling around and mumbling to each other at specified intervals, usually when the main characters came into "town." My little brother even agreed to be one of the villagers.
I advertised the production and convinced the parents (and any other adults I could find) to attend. On the big day, I set up rows of chairs in our side yard and rigged huge sheets from a clothesline to hide the set. The show began, I directed the kids, they performed beautifully and everyone received tremendous applause from the audience.
Although the play was a rousing success, I felt the script hadn't been "exactly" followed. I was very hard on myself and broke out in tears. I ran from the set, tripped, fell on the patio blocks and skinned my knee nearly to the bone. Alas, the budding writer/director/producer, was too young to realize that simply putting on the show was the best experience of all!